I bet some of you have read Twilight. Am I right? Go on, you can admit it, don't be shy. You know the story—Edward the sexy stalker, Jacob the loyal best friend with a major crush (or obsession), and of course, Bella the Klutz.
Well, my story is a little like Twilight. It has vampires and werewolves, but mine are better. My werewolves are proper werewolves who change at the full moon, and my vampires don't sparkle in sunlight. I'm no Bella to need saving because I trip over my own feet on a level floor. And I get good grades in my class's with a lot of hard work.
My name is Amy Shrimpton and I am sixteen, and I am going to take you back to when I met the two guys who would become, no, not 'boyfriends,' just friends. Perhaps my two best friends.
My alarm clock bellowed beside me and I very kindly smashed it on the floor, rolling out on top of it with a groan. I had stared at the ceiling, watching a spider, for a long time while my twin brother Chris used the shower.
"Save the hot water," I called out to him, but he didn't hear me. He exited the bathroom five minutes later with a towel slung round his waist, peeked in my door, and grinned down at me.
"All yours, bed head," he said, his white teeth blinding and a glint of mirth in his cornflower blue eyes. Looking at him, I could see why people used to call us 'The Dolls of Barnsville.'
We both had the same straight flaxen hair, cornflower blue eyes, rosebud lips and high cheek bones, alabaster skin and our father's height. Notice I said 'used to call us?' Well, let's just say I got sick of that nickname, and instead of keeping my hair long, I copied Chris in his choice of hairstyle—short and spiked. I also took to wearing some of Chris's old clothes- torn jeans, raggedy t-shirts, that old leather jacket he had grown out of once puberty had given him extra wide shoulders and muscles like a bull. Mom had being pissed, Dad had pretended to be too. Once mom had gone, he had burst out laughing and told me that if I was happy with my look, then he was behind me. We had walked off chuckling to find mom and calm her down.
"Hey, bed head, you taking another trip down memory lane?" Chris's voice asked somewhere overhead.
"Hmmm? What?" I asked.
"Just hurry up, I'm driving today and I won't wait for you," he warned.
Lunch was uneventful, if you don't count my friend Moxy revealing her new navel piercing, Chris swinging from a light (don't ask) and my compliment to a teachers new hairstyle been taken as me making a pass at said teacher. Those three events landed the three of us in detention. Once elderly Mrs. LeBlanc dozed off, Moxy swung round in her seat, grinning.
"So, Amy, you get those tickets to that rave this weekend?"
"I have them," Chris said, bouncing in his seat. Moxy gave me a look.
"You let Chris hold onto them?" she asked. I shrugged.
"After last time, my mum searches my room. She doesn't search Chris's room. He is still her baby boy."
"Hey," Chris protested, pouting. "I haven't been mom's baby boy since Danny came along."
I would have argued, but a sudden knock came to the door, loud enough to wake up Mrs. LeBlanc. Mr Deaton, the Principle, came waddling in on his flat feet, a scowl on his face.
"I get two new prisoners for you," he growled, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at two boys who stood in the doorway. They looked similar enough to be related with their dark brown hair and almond shaped eyes, but where one was tall and lean, with flashing dark eyes, the other was shorter and had larger muscles, and his eyes were deep green. The taller of the two looked solemn, as if at a funeral. The other was grinning and bobbing on the balls of his feet, as if he was hyped up on caffeine.
"Meet James Everett Thomas," Mr. Deaton said, jabbing a thumb at the shorter boy, "and Françoise Talbot. They were a little cheeky with me."
"Hey, we just said to call us Jet and Frank," the shorter of the two protested, while his friend smiled for the first time. Mr. Deaton frowned.
"Looks like they will be joining you tomorrow," Mr. Deaton said, and walked out.
Mrs. LeBlanc fussed over finding them a seat, while Chris, Moxy and I argued over the transport for the rave. Near the end of detention, I started to return the books I had been using for homework. I was at the back of the library when I heard Jet and Frank talking in low voices. I had almost forgotten they were there.
"Jet, you don't understand, I'm not like you. Your kind can learn control. Even when you change you can control your urges."
"Frank, I'm old enough to know that, and I have known you long enough to know that you do have control."
"What if I lose it? I can't have another incident like New York."
"Frank, that was over a hundred years ago, and..." Jet faltered. "Someone's listening in."
I scrambled back to my seat and kept my head down for the rest of detention. When I was leaving, Jet and Frank were looking at me. Frank with anger, Jet with curiosity.
Authors Note: Well, thats if for chapter one. What do you think?