Chapter one: Teenage Frustration (Thirteen's view)

What a repetitive and seemly vague occurrence, a yearly ritual to all of those my age. Why on earth am I trapped between these walls, listening to all these idiots go about their mating rituals and have my ears grated by scraping chairs, the tap of heels and the shrill of my teachers marker on the board. Fuck I hate school and yet this morning, I was forced to attend. What a dreary Monday, a day which proves the saying Mondays truly do suck, especially the first Monday of the year.

I woke up (well was woken up by my alarm) before the sun was fully up, 6 o'clock sharp. Stumbling out of bed half hung over, half sleep deprived I dragged myself to the shower and before starting my routine pruning. Drying my hair, I blow strands in my eye, swearing I attack it with straightening irons and gel. Slapping on some eyeliner and shuffle to the kitchen and die just as I land in front of my cereal. Seriously if this isn't enough information for you to know I'm not a morning person then I give up... talk to me in a few hours or better yet, go away completely.

"Mr. Matthews," the woman in a poorly shaped ugly skirt suit who claimed to be my teacher glares at me. Great first day and my home room teacher already hates me but seeing as I've never seen the woman before (believe me I would have remembered someone with hair like hers and lipstick stained teeth) she's discriminated me purely on rumours; so much for equality being present and definitely not in the school system, where everyone just attacks each other.

"You called," I push long spiked deep red and black hair out of my right eye, my dead straight fringe hanging over my left. I watch her, my grey eyes, sparkling in defiance.

"If you wish to complete you last years of schooling Mister, you might want to show some respect," she snaps at me, trying to humiliate me in front of the class. Little had she realised that she was playing with more than the fire she expected.

Chuckling, I put on a flirtatious smile, "But Ma'am I was thinking about you."

"W-why I never!"

Smirking, I bit my bottom lip rings to control my urge to laugh loudly in her face. She had turned the same colour as her teeth and now she was going darker in rage. Oh I was one hell of a fire, I knew exactly what to do to get the best reaction from anyone and everyone.

"I've never been so offended in my life, such disrespect from a student," she snaps louder, trying to regain control. If it wasn't for the fact she looked 40, I would have to say she was straight out of university. Still wet behind her ears but from that reaction the old hag hasn't been laid since forever either. She's as innocent as a sweet pup.

I glance around to see the students of my class sitting quietly as they watched the show.

"Matthews, come with me." Our principle calls from the doorway. I raise my eyebrows innocently, my piercings disappearing into my hair. "I'll sort him out Mrs Pall." That bitch is married, I gag.

"It was pleasant meeting you Ma'am." I sugar coat my words, my honeyed act not fooling anyone, especially the man at the doorway.

"Now Thirteen!" he demands. Wonderful isn't it. The name my mum decided for me.

My mum's parents are as liberal as one can be; hippies to the core but my other grandparents are such pleasant people. Against my parent's relationship from the beginning and when I unexpectedly developed one collage summer, they shipped my mum off to my Nan and Pops'. When I was born my 'dad' came back, proposed to my mum and they left. They left the shame, they left me. Hardly to be seen again. It is not that I don't love my 'rents, they raised me, I've lived a brilliant life but nothing can fill the void. My parents made me bitter as soon as I was old enough to realise that everyone else had Mum's and Dad's and I had my Nan and Pops, that the people who visited once a year at my birthday, were my parents and all the clothes on my back as a kid were from large checks sent to my 'rents who lived happy but back then our farm wasn't as rich as it is now. They managed to make a break about twelve summers ago and got some really good stock and boarded some well bred horses. From then our fortune rose but we still took the child payments since it probably didn't dent my biological parent's wealth. Nan and Pops wanted to always remind them and I agreed but it wasn't enough with the payments and the fact my 'rents were always supportive but... I'll tell you my sordid emotions later.

School sucked. I was the weird kid who preferred reading and writing to playing in the mud and teasing girls. In the holidays before high school, I got my out grown hair dyed red and chopped into spikes, the piercings followed and more and more kids moved further from me. By the end of the first term my sarcastic, charming personality developed from the quiet hermit I was in primary school. Later on, on my 16th birthday Pops took me to get my first tattoo, a small rose no bigger than my fist on my shoulder. The roses blood red petals frayed at the stem, its life wilting and the words carpe diem etched onto a single fallen petal. Cliché I know but it was the first of my drawings I wanted permanently inked on my skin, it held meaning, a reflection of my life at the time. Of course I got more later on that year, a cross behind my ear, barb wire around my wrist, my Nan and Pops' name cursive with a heart around my bicep... all of them on my right side. The side not shadowed by my long fringe, the arm not wrapped in wrist bands and bandages... my unmarred side, marked with my ideals.

"Right away Sir," I salute him, picking up my bag I stride past our school's leader. The decorated Principle Sanders. He was highly praised by being so young and have lead the number 1 rated high school in the state for the last three years. The thirty-two year old man was a prodigy himself, completing his high school by the age of sixteen and his teaching degree by the age of twenty but man I hated him. Elliot Sanders, my next door neighbour of the last 4 years and close family friends of my 'rents since he was a child, the son of my Nan's best friend who unfortunately passed away last year due to bone cancer. With that, he was pretty much their second son after me and the only reason I still attend this prestigious school, Saint Lucas Private Academy. It is a prim and proper school where the rich, snobby, and downright bitchy socialites of country Housit attend. And of course because we are so far from any city the school is one of the three schools in a tiny 10'000 person town where 80% attend the two public schools and the rest of us are stuck in this boarding school, some have come 100 kilometres or further to be here because of its reputation. I on the other hand would rather be a 30 minute drive away on my grandparent's farm. But since I live so close I lucky can go back every weekend, if I was to stay here every day of term the police would be looking for a mass murderer.

"You only arrived today; don't make me send you home so soon."

"Oh would you, pwetty pwease send me back," I bat my eye lashes at him.

"I'll meet you in my office, Mr Matthews." I turn to walk away, "And I expect you to be there or I will call your guardians."

"Whatever Dude," I sigh, taking gum out of my compulsory uniform slacks.

"That's Sir," he growls.

"No need to call me Sir," I smirk, blowing a bubble in his face.

"Go and your uniform better be back in order or you will be cleaning all the desks in the school on top of what you're receiving today."

"Whatever makes you feel like a man, Sir," I turn and walk quickly down the corridor to that familiar room before he decides to take my punishment out of my arse corporally himself right then, instead of the week of detention I would most likely get once back at his office.

"Why do you insist on making a mockery of yourself, this school and ME!" he roared after storming into the office. I would have been sitting there alone for 5 minutes as he did damage control.

"The bitch pissed me off," I glare down at him, finally able to do it since I grew to just over 6 foot, a few centimetres over his reasonable 5'11", over the summer.

"She's a certified teacher. YOUR teacher," he slams his palm on the desk in front of me.

"No she is a stuck up conceited whore, but then I guess she's just your age," I sneer, "An ugly hag to idolise your ugly mug." Ok it was a lie when I called him ugly. Elliot looked amazing for his age, actually he could pass for younger and if he hadn't choose education as a career someone would picked him up with a modelling contract or slept with him for the mere fact they could take it as a self esteem boast.

"Mrs Pall is a fine woman and her husband speaks fondly of her," he sneers back, stressing the word husband in his resort.

"Ew! Who would marry that witch?" Mr Sanders scowls at my immaturity and choice of name for my teacher. "Serious, how ugly is the man?" I smirk.

"I have never met a boy as shallow as you," Elliot sighs, sitting on the edge of his desk now that I wasn't itching to punch him. But he did have a point, I was extremely shallow and had good reason to be, whereas he gets scouted I'm the top model at the company. My beautiful sculpted body from eating an abundance of home grown foods from infancy, muscles strung tight from long days working on the farm and working out my frustration. A light tan on my pale skin, sun kissed by living practically outside my whole life, devoid of freckles and acne and not to mention my strong jaw and dangerous style. Girls and guys fawned over me or avoided me further, I'm gorgeous. Looks aren't everything I'm also mysterious due to the fact one side of my body is always covered and a dangerous challenge with my black piercings, cold eyes and tattoo. Girls love that sort of thing. "Snap out of it, you cannot take life seriously, can you?"

"Just give me my detention slips and let me get back to class," I glower angrily.

"It's your second to last year, Thirteen, you are a senior now, don't fuck it up for yourself and remember your grandparents believe in you." I was about to snap at him to leave my life alone but I was too shocked that the mighty Elliot Sanders had sworn.

"Get me out of home room and I'll try my hardest." I use the opportunity to gain something.

"You have a 1 and a half hour detention in room 20 everyday this week, turn up to all of them and don't upset Mrs Pall further and it is a deal," he replies with his own bargain. He sure likes to test my patience.

"Deal." We shake hands and then he snaps at me to get to first period. What a life I lead.

"Fix your tie Thirteen," he calls out as I leave his office.

"Let as wear actual clothes then. We aren't at a funeral or are you expecting one of us to die!" I resort back like always.

I wander into my English class just as the bell rings, my iPod blaring in my ears, my bag still swung over my shoulder. Everyone else had a locker but I prefer to carry my books for the day and have them with me to use at anytime. Surprisingly this is the only thing Sanders didn't argue with me about. He believed it would ensure I brought books to every class.

"Nice of you to join us Thirteen." I cringe at my name, only two people call me that Mr Sanders and look up to see my last year's English teacher Mr Miller standing at the front of the class. What did I ever do to that pompous bastard for him to put me with Mr Miller again?! He was the only male English teacher and I'll agree one of the best but he happened to take an interest in my 'talent' and ever since he got his hands on me (metaphorically of course, this guy was as old and useless as my grandparents 17 year old dog) he hasn't stopped pestering me about my writing.

"I wasn't late." I dismiss him and walk over to the far window corner, dropping my bag on the empty desk. My classmates had put up with me for the last 4 years and everyone has had at least one class in that time with me and without fail I always sit in that exact corner of every class.

"Everyone open up your books and write down every English related thing you know and afterwards we are going to have a quick brainstorm of what you've done in previous years," he directs the students and then picked up a thick manila folder off his desk and walked over to me.

"Sort through and work on this, I know where you're up too so you don't have to participate in the class," he speaks softly to me at my table. I open it up to find university grade lesson plans and summative tasks. I raise my right eyebrow at the teacher. "I suggested to Mr Sanders to place you in the advanced year 12 class but he didn't want to disrupt the other year levels as much as you have and anyway, your skill is above that."

"So you're giving me this ridiculous work," I snap just as quietly as he had spoken, "Like hell I'm doing this shit I would rather do what the class is doing." I make sure to keep my voice down, nobody knew of my schooling work, all they knew is that most teachers handed me different stuff and I had 2 extra study periods. In truth I was already doing, Advanced Chemistry, Advanced Physics, specialist Maths, Human and Marine Biology, Continuers French, Continuers Japanese, Stage 7 Piano, Legal Studies and History and Humane Studies AND now they wanted me to do university level English! How much time to they think I've? Or more importantly why do they think I would even care about this shit!

"You'll get an automatic A if you hand in 3 assignments by the end of the term and 5 by midyear. They MUST be at standard and you won't have to take the exam," he mutters back.

"I'll do it, but I don't have to attend the single lesson Friday afternoons and I can bring my laptop to the others if I see fit."

"You're never happy are you?"

"I know you're not stupid enough to think I would let others take full control over me."

"I want to see the assignments you are doing by the end of the lesson and you must have one communicative assignment, one lingual and 2 analytical assignments, the last is of your choice."

"One oral, one creative, 2 essays and my choice, got it."

Mr Miller then walked up to the front of the class and called their attention to see where they are at.

Just as the class was packing up and filing out, Mr Miller grabbed my book. I did what he asked but of course his expression is doubtful.

"I'll talk to Mr Sanders about Friday afternoons." He hands my book back. "I'll see you on Wednesday."

I chuckle to myself; the bastard is actually pleased with my choices, usually he as something critical to say. "Yeah… unfortunately." I walked out with a small smirk on my face. Only to get a few steps to find out I hadn't found out what 3rd period was.

Matthews, Thirteen Home Room 11PA, Mrs Pall Year 11

Timetable

Line 1 - Continuers Japanese

Line 2 - History +legal & humane studies

Line 3 - Study B

Line 4 - Study D Physics teacher on floor

Line 5 - Chemistry + biology

Line 6 - English

Line 7 - Study A French teacher on floor

Offline

Maths - Monday afternoons 3:30 to 6

Piano - Tuesday and Thursday afternoons 5 to 7

Mon Tues Wed Thur Fri

8:45 - 9:00 HOME ROOM ,

3. 10:30 - 11:15 5 7 4 3 1

11:15 - 11:40 RECESS RECESS

1:10 - 1:50 LUNCH LUNCH

6. 1:50- 2:35 3 1 5 7 6

7. 2:35 - 3:20 3 1 5 7 2

I glared at Mr Sanders' messy scroll all over my time table; it looks like I've Science, how fun! I flip over the timetable to find the room number and teacher. The back also had the school morals etc but no one cares about that shit anyway.

"That bastard," I curse to myself, he had picked out all the worse teachers but sadly I cannot seek revenge because most of my teachers took the other classes I needed.

After science the rest of my day was pretty much a bore, I went back to my dorm at recess to call Nan and Pops. and since I'm already fluent in French, so the work set after Recess was a breeze. At lunch I went to the school's gym, using the key Elliot gave me and worked out some frustration and after I spent the time completing my Biology and Chem. Homework before heading to maths the only reason I didn't detention that day. Of course my other days wouldn't be as lenient since he assured that I would be finished before my piano classes.