I yelled as a football collided with my head and sent my neck jerking forward. Whipping around, I swiftly picked up the assailing object and lobbed it back at the perpetrator, the ball hit his face with a thud, and all seemed silent in the usual chaos of Carmel High's hallways to hear the sickening crunch as Erik Johnson's nose broke.

Oh shit. This won't end well…

Me, Damien Alexander Ashton-Kristopher Adrian Summers just broke the Quarterback's nose. I'm dead.

The looks on his friends' faces say that they're going to jump me later, I know, I used to be part of that group, making those same threats to the social outcasts who annoyed us.

As soon as I heard the bell for lunch, I went to the food court and went straight to the Taco Bell stand and got my favorite—tacos!

After I finished my meal, and had someone so kindly dump their food tray down the back of my shirt (note bitter sarcasm) and got to feel how wonderful spaghetti feels rolling and sliding down my back; I had a lovely chat with my agent in the janitors' closet.

Why the janitors' closet? Well, I don't want everyone to know that I'm a model, a blow to my ego that I'm not willing to take. After our lovely screaming match over the cell, I opened the door and found that a crowd had gathered and everyone was staring at me.

"Why the hell were you just screaming about not wanting to take your clothes off for the camera anymore, dude?"

"Is someone making you do stuff you don't want to? Like, is someone forcing you to…ya'know?"

I rolled my eyes, people were so nosy! "Fuck off!" I said, and walked down the hallway, hiding my cloudy blue eyes with my dyed-black hair.

I was now considered one of those 'damn emo kids,' they everyone makes fun of. Of course they made fun of me, they thought that the reason I quit talking to them was because I was 'too good' for them, or so Seth Hodges spread around. He's the one who threatened to reveal my modeling career to everyone at the school.

I wasn't popular in the U.S. I made sure of that. Canada and most of Europe was a different story. My agent had just brought to my attention that I had promised to go to a photo-shoot in southern France in six weeks, staying over there for a month.

Huffing, annoyed, I made my way to AP French, greeting my weirdo teacher, Mrs. Carter with a slightly afraid "Bon après-midi, Mme. Carter. Je vais travailler à ma tâche d'hier. Je l'aurai fait vers la fin de la classe. ((Good afternoon, Mrs. Carter. I'm going to work on my assignment from yesterday. I'll have it done by the end of class.))" She nodded and didn't look up from the book she was reading,

Once everyone was in class, Mrs. Carter stood up and motioned towards the door, and a girl and a boy, approximately sixteen or seventeen entered the classroom. Obviously twins, they had exactly the same face, only the girl's was noticeably more feminine, she had tan skin, bright blue eyes, and blonde hair; the boy had dark hair (it didn't look dyed, it fit too well with his demeanor), bright green eyes that looked slightly disturbing next to his stark pale skin. They looked like they'd be classified and made fun of as us 'emo freaks,' though they carried themselves with an air of arrogance as if they already owned the place.

As disturbing as that was, the more disturbing fact was that they were both beautiful, the girl in the type of 'goody-two-shoes' kind of way like one of Heaven's angels; but the boy looked like he'd sooner beat you up than say hello, like an angel that was cast to Hell. If you believe in Heaven and Hell, that is. I do, but whatever.

"C'est Adrienna et Leon Klein. Ils se sont récemment déplacés ici de France. Ne vous inquiétez pas, bien que, si vous ne pouvez pas parler français fluent, ils parlent anglais couramment eux-mêmes. Essayez de les accueillir au lycée de Carmel, la Californie est tout à fait différent que le Bordeaux. ((This is Adrienna and Leon Klein. They've recently moved here from France. Do not worry, though, if you cannot speak fluent French, they speak English fluently themselves. Do try to welcome them to Carmel High school; California is quite different than Bordeaux. ))" I continued to study the pair discreetly, wondering why they'd move from Bordeaux to Carmel. This place was nothing special, just a bunch of idiot surfers and jocks and ditzy girls whoring around.

"M. Des étés, je vous ai mis responsable de les mettre au courant du campus d'école et du local, aussi ((Mr. Summers, I put you in charge of acquainting them with the school campus and the local area, too))." Shit, just what I need, some new kids following me around like lost puppies. Perfect.

Rolling my eyes, twitching my slender nose that was adorned with a small silver stud, and running my tongue over the inside of my bottom lip, playing with my lip rings (a habit I've developed since the third day I had snakebites), I yawned, too, to show my disinterest, but knowing full and well that it wouldn't get me out of the task, I replied, anyway. "Naturellement, mon plaisir. Quoi que. ((Of course, my pleasure. Whatever.))"

"Merci, Damien. N'essayez rien drôle, comme cette plume et le miel vous a mordu a tiré sur M. Butkiz l'année dernière. Je vous avertis ((Thank you, Damien. Don't try anything funny, like that feather and honey bit you pulled on Mr. Butkiz last year. I'm warning you))." Old ladies are scary, especially the ones you hear about as children, you know, the ones who eat kittens and make their very ornate collection of garden gnomes come to life at night? Yeah, that would be Mrs. Carter. Her hair is always frizzy, and she wears these freaky red contacts to freak us out. Let me tell you something: the scary factor is really far up there. I mean, every time I come to class, I mentally prepare myself for her to pull out a kitten and munch its' cute little head off.

Now that you've established that I am a nutcase who is in definite need of being dressed in a jacket that makes me hug myself and put into one of those nice, cozy, white padded rooms at the nearest mental institution; you may have a clearer view on how I see things.

"Il l'a eu venir. Il a voulu m'expulser pour quelque chose que je totalement n'ai pas faite ((He had it coming. He wanted to expel me for something I totally didn't do))!"

"Ugh! Vous êtes un jeune homme ennuyeux, maintenant fermé vers le haut, je te suis parler fait. Stupide ((Ugh! You are a troublesome young man, now shut up, I'm done speaking to you. Idiot))." The class erupted in a fit of giggles and laughter; how middle school, I know. But it's still funny when a teacher calls a fellow classmate and idiot. "Adrienna, Leon; quelque chose que vous voudriez dire ((Adrienna, Leon; anything you'd like to say))?"

It was Adrienna who spoke; "Êtes-vous vraiment des étés de Damien ? Le modèle comme qui est… Monde-célèbre ((Are you really Damien Summers? The model who is like… World-famous))?"

"Le non, ont juste le même nom ((No, just have the same name))."

"Ah, mais toi ressemblent à lui, aussi ((Oh, but you look like him, too))!"

"Je juste ressemble à lui et m'avère justement avoir le même nom. Il est juste une coïncidence ((I just look like him and happen to have the same name. It's just a coincidence))."

"Et votre voix ressemble à du sien, aussi ! Vous devez être des étés de Damien Alexandre Ashton-Kristopher Adrian! Votre anniversaire est le trente et unième octobre, mille neuf cent quatre-vingt-onze. Votre couleur préférée est noire parce qu'elle vous rappelle la nuit, et vous aviez l'habitude d'être l'un des types les plus populaires à l'école ! Je suis comme votre plus grand ventilateur ((And your voice sounds like his, too! You must be Damien Alexander Ashton-Kristopher Adrian Summers! Your birthday is October thirty-first, nineteen ninety-two. Your favorite color is black because it reminds you of night, and you used to be one of the most popular guys in school! I'm like your biggest fan))!"

"Fuck you! I am not who you think I am! Don't be spreading shit around on your first damn day. You do not want to have me as an enemy." I stood violently, clenching my fists, the vein in my neck standing out. If this chick didn't shut up, I was going to be found out. I gave up my social life to keep this secret from getting out; and if they found out that I was a model, my other secret wouldn't be buried too much deeper wither.

Looking around at my classmates, I saw that most of their mouths were hanging open in shock, the others were whispering.

"Oh my God! That would be so awesome!"

"I hope he really is this model guy, it'd be cool to know someone famous."

My mind suddenly was whirling around, it was cool to be a model? Wow, my envision had been of the whole school laughing at me.

"Svp, je n'ai pas voulu dire pour être un ennui, mais je crois toujours que vous êtes les étés modèles célèbres de Damien. Êtes vous sûr vous ne pourriez pas possible d'être lui ((Please, I did not mean to be a nuisance, but I still believe that you are the famous model Damien Summers. Are you sure you could not possibly be him))?"

I sighed, and whipped my hand over my face, still irritated and spoke in French; "Yeah, it's me. I'm the model. I'm Damien Alexander Adrian Summers." For proof, I held up the hair that covered the right half of my face, to show the small but still visible scar through my eyebrow.

"Je l'ai su ! Je l'ai su ! Je l'ai su ! Ah, et d'ailleurs, ne portent jamais jaune pâle avec ces stries bleues dans vos cheveux… pas juste oubliez ((I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! Oh, and by the way, never wear pale yellow with those blue streaks in your hair…Just don't forget))—"

Leon put a hand over his sister's mouth to stop her from speaking; "Je fais des excuses pour ma soeur, elle obtient emporté parfois ((I apologize for my sister, she gets carried away sometimes))."

Then, a very, very rare occurrence happened: my French teacher spoke in English; "Alright, since we've spent most of the class figuring out that we have a celebrity among us, you have no homework now, get out of my class! Allons ! Allez ! "

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, except the annoyance of having Adrienna stare at me in awe, and worst of all, she hugged me. I hate it when people touch me. It pisses me off, but she smelled nice, so it was okay. If she smelled gross, I would have freaked out. I can't stand dirty people.

I hate hobos.