Chp. 1 Something Unexpected

Shifting in my uncomfortable, tatty, bed sheets, I opened my eyes to another dreary day in Ymir British Columbia. The cold morning and the intense light streaming through my window was what woke me. I stretched out on the bed, wincing slightly as my bruises were still tender. A sad thought came upon me; I used to appreciate the light and cool mornings, because of their ability to wake me up before school started. I rarely appreciated anything anymore. Life meant nothing to me anymore, not that it mattered to me much more before it happened. Before he died; my dad. The only person I could talk to… but even come to think of it, he didn't even really know me. No one did.

Although, my dad had been my savior from many things; including my mother. Life had turned even more horrible than it was before, after he died. And the main reason for my horrible life was my mother- or, as I called her most of the time, Cynthia. She had such a pretty name for such a vile creature. She had abused me since I was five to this very day. Dad was the one to stop it. But now, without him here to stop it...

Sometimes she didn't even have a reason to do it, even though it was wrong to do, in my eyes, anyways. The only person that had actually cared about me had been taken cruelly last year next week in a car crash. I had stopped grieving over dad's death a few months ago. I was just severely depressed now. Well, more depressed then before, anyway. Grieving would do no good. It wouldn't bring him back.

Why couldn't it have been Cynthia? And thinking that would be a cruel idea to anyone else, but if you were me, you wouldn't think it so cruel. The reason she was so evil to me was because I always her "mistake". She had always regretted not getting an abortion when she found out she was pregnant, as she always reminded me. My dad was the one who made her keep me when he found out. And that was why she always beat me without a hint of regret.

My dad had been the only one who I could talk to. I didn't even have one friend at high school. Everyone tended to avoid me. Or they tortured me. I was the freakish klutzy kid to them at school. Oh well. Everything would be fine, I hoped, when I moved out and got an apartment far away from my mother and the other stuck-up kids at school. That wouldn't be a problem, either. I had been saving pretty much all my life for that day.

"Marie! Get up!" Cynthia's screechy voice yelled from behind my door. Her voice pulled me off my train of thought.

I sighed, and yelled back, "Fine!" meanwhile planting my face in my pillow. Great, I had to face another depressing day at the Salmo Secondary School. It was most likely only like that to me.

Everyday for the other students was make-fun-of-the-klutz-day. And the klutz was me.

I sighed in frustration before hoisting myself out of bed to get ready for the day. As I got up, my bruises ached. I ignored it; I was to use too it by now.

My alarm clock read 7:45 AM and school started at 8:05 AM. Cursing under my breath I realized I would have to be really quick, since it took almost ten minutes to get to school. I lived all the way out on the outskirts of town, and everything including the school was inside the town. You could barely see the house from the road. Our house was practically encircled in trees, so it almost seemed like we lived in the forest. It was hard to understand why my mother wanted to live out here. From my understanding, she liked the sun a lot, and the ancient trees around us provided lots of shade; almost blocking the sun out.

I snatched a change of clothes out of my little mahogany dresser that took up half the space in my room, and sprinted to the bathroom. My room had to be the smallest one in the house. Even the kitchen was bigger than my room. It connected with the living room, making it one wide, and open space right when you came in the door. But I never complained about how small my room was; I couldn't with the view I got from my window.

Hastily, I left my room and sprinted through the living room slash kitchen to the bathroom. As I laid out my towels and clothes for after my shower, I quickly inspected my face. The big green-blue blotches that covered most of my skin were fading. Good. I really hated having those bruises, and I really loathed using cover up. They were always tender, and I could hardly move without feeling pain shoot to the area that had a bruise on it.

As soon as I had jumped in the shower-tub, the scalding hot water relaxed me. I loved taking showers. It was one of my favorite things to do besides reading, listening to music, and going to school. It was really weird for a kid to like school, I had always thought. But it was just another way to stay away from my mother. That's pretty sad, if you ask me.

I washed my hair quickly with my favorite lavender scented shampoo, washed my body, and then stepped out of the shower. I wrapped the towel around me securely; I already missed the heat of the shower. Wringing out my long, black hair, I then proceeded putting on my big, baggy black clothing. I felt, I don't know… comfortable, I guess, in them.

My appearance matched my mood. Faded, dull, depressed.

I was brought back to reality by Cynthia shouting, "Marie! You're going to be late!"

Why she was even bothering to tell me, I hadn't a clue. From what I knew, she didn't care about what happened to me. But I took the hint, and hurried up. I quickly applied my black eyeliner and mascara, giving my eyes a smoky appearance.

The contrast between all the black I was wearing, including my hair, my pale white skin, and my dull green eyes was striking. But I only noticed that the first time I put it on, it was regular now, and I thought I looked rather plain and boring anyways.

I dashed to my room, picked up my book bag, and put my hair up in a pony tail before I ran through the living room kitchen as quickly as I could. I passed Cynthia on my way out, but didn't bother saying "Good morning." or "Good-bye." in my haste. I slammed the door on my way out, and cringed at the sound. The brief glimpse I got of her pretty, always-perfect face was sour. I also saw right before the door crashed into it's frame that she was already glaring at me with tired eyes, her corn silk blond hair done up in a bun that told me she had just gotten up out of bed. It brought me back to my senses. Cynthia was going to be angry at me for this later, if she didn't have anything else to scold me about or use as an excuse to beat me.

But this couldn't bother me for to long, since I had about ten minutes to get to the school. I got into my old, rusted Toyota Corolla; thinking that my car probably wouldn't be able to break the speed limit enough to get me to school on time. The highest this car could probably go was eighty, and I never pushed it farther than that, in fear that it would break down. But, to my surprise, as I sped down the highway my car reached a hundred without protesting. And that got me to school on time. My day was going pretty well so far.

But I still had to rush to my first period: english. I scrambled out of the car and ran through the rain to the school building. The rain was sheeting within mere seconds, and I was soaked before I got to the building. That's Salmo weather for you. There can't be a weather condition that isn't harsh or intense.

I barely made the final bell when I got to class. Mr. Jefferson just rolled his eyes. I had done this way too many times for him to care anymore. I sat down in the far back right corner of the room, behind the tall kids. I always sat as far away from other people as I could.

Class dragged, and I was thankful for that. I know it would be annoying to the other students here, but I liked it. The longer I had to stay at school, the longer I got to stay away from Cynthia.

I also liked the classes themselves, though. Well, most of them. Biology, english, and art were my favorite subjects. They were the only ones that caught my interest. I either hated or thought the class was boring if it were any other subject. The one subject I just hated without question was trigonometry… and gym.

I was really good at art, english and biology. But my teachers said my "creativeness" came out in art and english. But, today, english was boring. I had been handed a reading list, and I had already read everything on it. Although I loved reading, I had no books. So I signed out a new book that I hadn't read every day. I was the only student who did this, and I had the librarian awestruck.

We were supposed to be reading Romeo and Juliet, Wuthering Heights, Dracula, Pride and Prejudice… yup, I had read them all. And they were all very good, too. When the only things you enjoyed in life were reading and listening to music, you had a lot of time on your hands.

After english, I had trig.

As soon as the bell rang, I trudged off to trig. I was in a sulky mood even before I had gotten to the door. I just really hated this class. And the teacher, Miss Willow, made it even more unpleasant. She always picked on the kids who didn't have their hand up, or just sucked at the subject. That wasn't a problem for me, because I was excellent in trig. But I still hated the subject. It was too boring, and standard. Although I didn't put my hand up, Miss Willow knew not to bother me. I was the smartest student, and I was also the most unsociable one, too.

I sat in my usual seat in the back, where I sat with no one else.

Just then, a new guy sat down a few seats away from me. I stared at him curiously, wondering how he could even dare to get this close to me. He was a few seats closer than the normal radius people kept from me. He stared right back.

He seemed much older, wiser than he looked. His eyes showed that, and the way his eyes appraised me at the moment was a little weird. It was like he was analyzing me, or something preposterous like that. I was really surprising myself with my observations. But they were all true. And right now, I was most likely ogling him like I could see most of the other immature, flighty girls were in the class. I turned my head back to the front of the class, perplexed and disgusted. I was also reminding myself lightly, because I didn't really need it, that I would and should be staying away from everyone and anyone including the mysterious newcomer.

I gave him one last glance before I looked away from his eyes, which were still staring at me, and turned my attention on the teacher, trying to ignore the fact that he had, and still was –I could see it from behind my black curtain of hair– gazing at me. It was almost impossible to ignore, and I only doubled my attempts at disregarding the fact.

It seemed like the period stretched on for days, yet I knew it was only an hour. All I wanted to do was get out of there, because I wanted to get away from the creepy guy. He'd been shooting glances at me, and it looked as if he obviously thought I couldn't see through my screen of dark hair. But, I did notice it, and it was bugging the hell out of me. All I wanted was peace, and to be left alone; to fade into the background and to never be thought of again. But, what with this new guy looking at me every fifteen seconds, it didn't look like I would be getting my wish. Why did this have to happen now?

Maybe it was just a temporary thing. Hopefully he would get bored and move on after staring at boring old me for too long. With any luck, which I didn't have too often, he would find me uninteresting very soon. I didn't want to feel like a piece of eye-candy for weeks on end. The only comfort I had at the moment was that hope, and I had to repeat it in my head many times just to keep myself calm, and not jump up and scream in the guy's face 'What's your freaking problem?'. I know most people, or, rather, girls wouldn't be that frustrated about a simple problem like this. Most people would be flattered. But I hated attention, especially when a lot of attention is put on me a lot when Janet and her bunch push me, trip me, and various other things to make me fall and make a moron out of myself. It's their favorite past-time and I don't understand how they never bore themselves. It had to be getting old by now, since they've been doing it for all the two-and-a-half years I've been here with them. But they still laugh, as do the other kids, full volume when I trip and land flat on my face, causing more bruises.

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair, trying to let time flow by me so I could get the hell out of here. This brought another glance my way from the new student, and I huffed loudly this time, causing the teacher in front to cluck his tongue impatiently. I rolled my eyes, and glanced at the clock over the teacher's desk every ten seconds, ready to make my move to run.

Luck was obviously on my side today, because the bell rang after my fifth look at the clock, and I had instantly packed up my books and everything else I needed to cram into my bag. And then I ran to the door, swiftly and nimbly dodging somebody's foot, and was out the door, on my way to the next class. Not one look did I spare to see the new guy's reaction, because all of my attention was focused on getting me out of the classroom without tripping and stumbling along the way. Indeed, I was tremendously lucky today, despite the fact that it seemed I had a stalker.

I made it through the now-crowded hallway to the cafeteria. There was no point in me coming here during lunch time, and I didn't know why I bothered to come. There were other, more productive things I could be doing, but I chose to go to the cafeteria and pick apart a lunch I bought and had no intention of eating. What was my favorite thing to do, and always did, was to buy an apple, then make little moon-crescent marks in it with my finger nails. It was always full of craters when I threw it out. It's a good thing people never asked me why I do it because I would either answer that I didn't know or I had an ADD problem. 'Cause it probably seemed like it to the kids who actually paid attention to me. Janet, my main tormentor, would have surely picked it up because she liked to make fun of me at every opportune moment.

Quickly, I purchased all the things that I would pick apart at today's lunch and went to sit at my regular table. And, when I got there, I resumed my food-picking habit. But today, for a change of my monotonous routine, I watched some of the people at other tables, and tried to identify who each person was. I kept my head down as much as possible, so if anyone who happened to glance by my table, which I think would most likely not happen, would not see me looking.

My attention was immediately drawn to the huge group of tables, all filled right in the middle of the room. The other tables off to the sides are only sparsely filled; the groups that don't involve, or have anything to do with Janet. Yes, the group right in the middle is Janet's group, all filled with Janet and her followers. It seemed like she's totally brain washed over half the school into thinking she's the 'it' girl. She's pretty much like a goddess to the lot of them.

But, come to think of it, she was the standard form of an 'it' girl. Perfectly tanned, skinny figure, bright blue aqua-marine eyes, long shiny blond hair, angular facial features, perfectly arched eyebrows, full pink lips, and her forward and determined, cocky attitude was what made up Janet Menzies. She commanded everything; if Janet told you to do anything, and I mean anything, you would do it without question. And that's exactly what got me into trouble with her on day one.

She told me to do her homework for the whole first week of school, and me with my stubborn attitude, told her no. Now, two and some years later, I'm still paying for it. I don't even think she liked me before that. She shot me glares before that event ever happened, too.

And, speak of the devil; Janet was glowering at me from where she sat, in the midst of her many chatting minions. This was quite normal for her, but there was more venom than usual in her eyes as she scowled at me. This made me wonder idly what she was angry at me for now.

But, all of a sudden, the new guy entered the cafeteria, making everything go silent.

But only for all of ten seconds before Janet was up and walking toward him.

As she walked toward his graceful, yet motionless form, she sneered back at me a few times along the way. What was her problem now? No matter what I did, she seemed to pick it apart until she found something she could hate me for. Sometimes she didn't even have a reason to hate me.

She reached the new guy and her eyes and voice instantly became sweet. I could hear her, even through the loud noises of students. It seemed like she wanted me to hear her; her voice was louder and higher than average.

"Hello, my name is Janet. You're new here, right?" What an obvious question to ask. I only looked at Janet, to see what she would say.

"Hello… I'm Damian Forrester. It's nice to meet you, Janet." From here, it looked like she teetered a little on her feet. My jaw almost dropped. Wow. Janet had never done that before. Her past boyfriends had never been able to do that to her. Wasn't the new kid –Damian– just being polite? This really made me pay attention. I wanted to understand why she had swooned. Could he really have that much of an affect on someone?

Sure, he was good looking. He wore a loose fitting black dress shirt and jeans. His facial features were perfect; angular and sharp. He had pale, pale skin. It was surprisingly paler than mine. Shaggy dark, dark brown locks of hair obscured his eyes that, from this distance, looked black. He wasn't bulky, like a lot of the boys around here. I could see he was muscled, but other than that he was very skinny. Almost like a rail, in a way. His marble-like face was wiped clean of any emotion. He seemed mellow; not at all someone who should or would want to hang around with someone like Janet.

"Would you like to sit with me and my group?" She asked tentatively, yet almost as confidently as she would with any other guy. This was certainly amusing. It was fun to see Janet's attitude wavering against a new boy. I would have to taunt her about that later; I made a mental note to do so. I would probably get beaten black and blue, but it would be worth seeing the embarrassment on her face.

I looked back to Damian's face to see his expression as he answered. He merely shrugged slightly. I could barely make out the, 'Why not?' he muttered. But despite what he had said to Janet, he looked as if he was mentally cursing himself as he walked with her. All I could think as I looked at him was that I hoped he wouldn't turn to the dark side as well.

As they both turned back to walk to Janet's table; Janet throwing a smug smile and a mocking look my way, and Damian his face stoic which seemed to be his normal emotion so far, I went back to unconsciously picking my apple apart again. What a day this had been so far.

It now seemed like Janet was going after Damian; it was so obvious, and besides, who wouldn't?

That was just a generality. Most of the girls he would talk to would probably swoon just as Janet did, when he looked them in the eye as he talked to them.

And Janet seemed to be more annoyed with me than usual. And it was just the beginning of the week. I hadn't even gotten a chance to do anything to her yet.

Peering over at Janet's table once more, I saw Damian sitting right next to Janet, looking just a bit uncomfortable as she started chatting up a storm; most likely talking his ear off. He was surrounded by girls; only a few boys were at the far end of one of the tables with their girlfriends who weren't paying attention to them. All interest was directed upon Damian; either people were trying to talk to him when Janet was taking a breath, or just staring and marveling. It really didn't look like he belonged there, crowded in between a chatty Janet and her best friend, or for a better term, second in command, Chantelle Marks.

If Janet wasn't here, which would be a miracle, Chantelle would definitely be the queen-bee of the school. She was a drone of Janet; almost the same except for she had sandy brown hair, and fair olive-toned skin with deep brown, almond shaped eyes.

The difference between Damian and everyone at the table was striking. He stood out among the fifty or so students crowded around the tables.

Without warning, he shot a glance my way, his eyes gleaming and narrowed slightly, as if he were trying to read my face and figure out what I was thinking. I looked down immediately, not wanting Janet to notice her boyfriend-to-be staring at me, and me returning the stare.

Janet's dating patterns were always the same. She'd meet a guy, date him for a couple weeks, and then dump him. It was just a status quo –she'd most likely never fallen for a guy before. It was as if you had to be with someone, or you weren't cool. And Janet's popularity, if it was possible, only went up after she'd dumped a guy. The longest she's ever been in a relationship that I'd seen was Marcus Andrews, and that was only a month and a half. It's pretty pathetic, if you ask me. Mark moved after that, because after Janet's done with them, she tends to humiliate them somehow. It seems like a punishment for not fulfilling her wishes in a boyfriend or something along the lines of that. Yet, every guy wants to date her. Maybe they just disregard everything besides the fact of how beautiful she is.

At that moment, I really felt bad for Damian. He was doomed to face Janet's wrath, assuming that he would go out with her, which he most likely would besides the pained look on his face at the moment. It probably wouldn't be long until he decided to ask her out. He'd be making the worst mistake he could ever make then.

The bell rang, interrupting my train of thought and signaling that lunch was over. Sighing, I wrenched my chair out, scraping it along the floor lightly as I got up from my table. Grabbing my tray and bag, I made my way to the doors where I threw my uneaten food out and walked quickly through the halls to my next class: art.

It was too bad the day was almost over. I would have nothing to do when I got home, other than finishing my almost-already done homework. I always do some homework while the teacher's talking, so I don't get bored. Maybe being bored is better during the day at school, and that I should be saving it all till night so I have something to preoccupy myself when I get home.

I entered the art classroom, the first one as normal, and headed back to my regular seat in the back of the class. The teacher, a tall, slim, long brown-haired woman in her forties, named Ms. McCall murmured a welcome to me as I took my seat. I nodded, acknowledging her even though I knew she was not looking up from her stack of papers on her desk to see if I would reply.

The only thing I could do while I waited ten minutes or so for the students to enter the room, and for the class to start, was to doodle aimlessly.

Settling into my seat, I pulled out my sketch book and pencil. My hand instantly took action; I just let it fly across the paper, not drawing anything particular design or shape. While I did this, my mind wandered. Usually what ended up on the page was what I was thinking about.

If that boy continued to stare at me… well, I had to come up with a solution, didn't I? A lot of faith was still stocked in the fact that he would eventually lose interest in me, seeing that I would not respond to it -outwardly, that is. But I still needed a backup plan if worse came to worse.

Maybe I could move myself somewhere where he wouldn't find me. I don't think I was that noticeable, but he would be looking for me… There wouldn't be a chance for me to hide then. Should I just go up to him formally, and just tell him to back off? Would that make it worse? It was possible.

In my head, I was thinking this was bit stupid, maybe a little overboard, but I did not particularly like to be stared at –especially for long periods at a time.

Then another, more effective, yet most likely impossible and exasperating idea came to mind. If I could ask Janet to distract him, or later, tell him to stop looking at me, then my problem would be solved. But there was not a shot in hell Janet would do anything for me; although, maybe when it came to Damian…

By the time everyone entered the classroom, I still hadn't figured out what to do. I sighed heavily, thankfully not attracting much attention even though it was the loudest noise in the class, and everyone was now silent and sitting in their seats, waiting for the teacher's instructions.

Maybe he would stop when he became Janet's boyfriend. He wouldn't want to stare at any other girl then, other than Janet. Hopefully that time would come soon, even though I would really hate to see someone like him get crushed by Janet, as many of the other boys have.

Ms. McCall started talking, and I looked down at my sketch. It was a pair of fierce eyes watching me from a dark corner of what seemed to be an alley. My brow furrowed as I tried to understand the meaning of why I had drawn this. I'd never seen this scene before…

"Miss Alexander? Did you hear what I just said?" Ms. McCall's voice was frustrated and annoyed. At the sound of her voice, I looked up from my sketch to her face. She was frowning at me, her lips tight and her toe tapping on the linoleum floor, waiting for an answer. No one so much as looked my way. I supposed they probably weren't listening, either.

"No." My answer was curt and monotonic as usual. Her eyes tightened as I said it, and her face became even angrier.

"Please listen more carefully, then. The next time I call on you, and you don't have an answer, it's straight to the office. Do you understand?" I looked down again, and nodded, wondering how on earth she had plucked up enough courage to glare at me, let alone make a threat. Most teachers knew enough about me to just leave me alone. They were scared of me, I think, and I hadn't a clue why. When I had been in fights before (with Janet at school, of course), although everyone knew, but did nothing about it, I wouldn't fight back. I just couldn't find it in me… But they shouldn't bother me, anyway. I always got top grades, never broke any rules, and always handed my work in on time. I didn't have a single black mark on my record, and they all knew that.

The teacher began to speak yet again, and I didn't heed her warning to listen. My attention drew away from her drawling… to the boy looking at me again. I caught him just as his eyes returned to his table.

This was getting the slightest bit annoying, to put it in light terms. He sat only two tables away from me… sitting next to an agitated-looking Janet. She obviously noticed how he had sneaked a quick look sideways at me.

I looked past him to her, and shot her a serious, pleading look. Her eyes brows furrowed, confused why I was doing this, and I rolled my eyes at her idiocy. I mouthed 'talk to him' to her, and had to quickly, at that matter, because it couldn't be noticed by Damian. She quickly understood and poked him, claiming his attention.

Sighing quietly in relief, my shoulders relaxed the slightest bit. It was sort of a relief that no one was watching me anymore –especially since I'd never been used to being watched, and it definitely bothered me a bit. That had been easier than I had thought. Now all she had to do was keep it up, and I was golden for the rest of the day. Maybe this feeling would last if she would keep doing this favor for me. But that was a vain hope. The only thing I could hope for, but didn't really want, was for him to ask her out. Then all my little problems would be dealt with.

My little maneuver worked, and although it was good for me, I saw it wasn't very good for him.

Janet would not stop talking, even though the teacher must have threatened her she was going to the office if she did not stop talking at least fifteen times. It was funny, and painful to watch, if I put myself in his shoes, anyway. The only thing that kept me from laughing out loud was the expression on his face.

He looked extremely agitated, but it obviously didn't bother Janet much. She just kept jabbering on while he sat there, putting his head in one of his hands and closed his eyes tightly. It looked as if he were trying to calm himself down enough so that he wouldn't stop her talking by strangling her. That would be the world's funniest sight to me. It was a shame he never did it, though.

Class ended, and the new guy was immediately out of his seat. He murmured a quick "Good-bye." to Janet before he rushed out of the room.

I had a hard time trying to stop myself snickering, but it's a good thing I restrained myself because Janet would have stormed over to me and strangled me herself.

Biology was next. I hoped we had something interesting, and hopefully challenging today. I felt like I needed a challenge, besides the people-related challenges I had almost everyday.

I entered the classroom as regularly as ever, took my place beside my almost terrified looking partner Mitchell Chanson, and stared at the front of the classroom mindlessly until the teacher arrived. But the one moment the teacher turned her back to get some supplies from the backroom; it seemed Janet had different partner arrangement ideas.

Janet moved from her lab table, to mine, pushing my frightened little partner out of the way in the process. Janet planted herself right beside me, and stared viciously at Mitchell, who looked lost standing out in the middle of the aisle. He backed away from us, shrugging pathetically and headed over to be partners with Janet's old partner, Conner Andrews. He seemed finally at ease when he had gotten away from me- and Janet.

Janet eyed me darkly from where she stood beside me. I ignored her, and started to pick up the utensils Ms. Waters had given us. We were into the dissecting unit –frogs–, and it really was quite interesting despite how gross it was. Luckily I usually had a strong stomach, unlike some unfortunate girls here. I'd only gotten sick once, and the more I studied it the more immune to it I was. This lab would be fairly simple. Picking up the forceps, and scalpel, I almost began before I saw Janet glaring at me from the corner of her eyes. This was normal, but I knew she was going to say something since she'd gone out of her way to come over here. I sighed.

"What do you want, Janet?" My voice was cold, naturally. But she was in one of her own dark moods, and she didn't seem to be affected by the ever present hostility in my voice.

"You know what." She told me pointedly. I threw a quizzical look her way, and raised one eyebrow. She huffed.

"I've seen the way you've been looking at him." She really began to look furious then. I was really lost now.

"What? Who are you talking about?" My tone was now laced with irritation. She continued to glare.

"You know who I mean, don't pretend to be oblivious." I snickered at her.

"Wow, Janet, that's such a big word for you. 'Oblivious'; how long did it take you to look that one up?" It seemed like she was on the brink of pouncing on me, and ripping me to shreds right then.

"I'm not as stupid as you take me to be, Marie, so cut it out." I pretended to look shocked.

"You know my name," I said in mock amazement. She closed her eyes tightly, and I could tell she was trying to calm herself down. I started snickering again. Her eyes opened, and then narrowed on me.

"You've been distracting me. Back to the subject," She said acidly. I merely nodded, still laughing. She sighed angrily, obviously frustrated by me. Frustrated was probably an understatement. I'd never seen Janet as red-faced as she was then, but I felt no remorse. After all, this was the girl who tormented me day after day with her obnoxious comments and her annoying followers. But right now she didn't have anyone to defend her, so I could say anything I wanted.

"I'm talking about Damian," My laughing stopped as she said his name, and my eyes narrowed. She smiled in response.

"What about him?" My voice had adopted a new, venomous tone. That boy had been irritating me all day today. He'd been staring at me for no apparent reason from the moment he got here, and it was really irritating me.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that you should be staying away from him." I smiled sarcastically at that.

"Oh really? Is he you're latest prey?" I laughed with no humour. Her eyes narrowed, but she smiled slightly.

"Well, I guess you could put it that way. Stay away from him. Got it?" I laughed once more and nodded. But somewhere deep inside I wished I hadn't agreed. Damian didn't look like he would ever belong to anyone, let alone Janet. Especially Janet. They were like polar opposites from what I'd seen so far.

"Don't worry, Janet. That won't be a problem. And trust me when I say that." She laughed bitterly; she still didn't trust me when I said that. Oh well. If I had ever decided to compete against her, anyway, there would be no competition. I was very, very plain next to Janet. As I've said before, she was the 'it' girl that everyone wanted. Well, maybe not Damian, but I wasn't sure yet. It certainly didn't seem like it.

"Fine. Agreed. Now let's get on with this stupid lab, we're not going to be able to get done on time." Her voice was still sour, and with a resigned sigh, I began to work with my enemy to get the lab done before class ended.