It was a glorious morning in Whitechaple, the birds chirping with high sing-song voices and the sun shining down brilliantly from the cloudy blue sky. It was just the beginning of October, some people already showcasing their Halloween decorations, like sheet ghosts, straw-stuffed scarecrows, styrafoam gravestones and cardboard vampires. The smell of fall hung in the air, casting a home-y feeling around the small town. Trees everywhere were speckled with red, orange, yellow, brown and the occasional green leaves. The tall, spaceous victorian style houses made the whole effect complete. Whitechaple looked like something from out of a craft store.

Strolling down the sidewalk was the well known nerdy vampire-slayers of school, talking animatly about the tall, gangly one's newest videogame.

"I swear, it was the most fun and thrilling ride I had ever took inside of a game!" Benny Weir shouted, making hand motions of moves his avatar had made the previous night. Ethan Morgan rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"No way! I though that Overkill was WAY better than last's nights game."

"Nu uh! Overkill was totally shadowed in comparison!"

"I think you're just being a sore thumb."

"What? Why?"

"You only liked Dead Space 2 better than Overkill because you beat me." Ethan said, smirking at his bestfriend. Benny grinned, raising his eyebrows up slightly.

"That may be true, but come on, dude. You have to admit, DS2 was a lot of fun."

"... Okay, fine. Yes, it was incredibly nerve-tingling and I wish I could play it again."

"Ha! I knew it!"

"Yeah yeah." Ethan replyed, half-heartily grumpy. He knew he couldn't stay mad at Benny for too long, but he always put in the effort when Benny bragged about destroying Ethan in their newest videogame.

They rounded the corner, coming into view of their certain death. Large, metal doors loomed up ahead, casting a cloudy subcontious over the exceedingly cheery day. Ethan sighed, mentally, building himself up for the dragging day. Benny was still going about his extrodinary moves, ones that had saved his game-life. Ethan had zoned out, and was prepping for school. It was always a bit hard getting through the seven hour torture five days a week, and Ethan had to tell his brain lies to work up enough strenght to haul his shorter but long-limbed frame out of bed, preparing himself for his living hell. School. Sucked.

Benny walked twords the doors, gabbing away and not watching where he was going. He ran smack into the flagpole, earning a few scattered snickers, most from Ethan.

"Shut up!" Benny said, chuckling inspite of himself. Ethan gawfed, covering his exposed teeth with a hand. "At least I didn't fall on my face, like on Friday."

"But you came pretty well close."

"At least I can win games that only require you to shoot aliens."

Ethan quit laughing and shot a look at Benny. Benny's lips twitched upwards, but he contained himself so Ethan wouldn't deck him.

When they reached the doors, Benny gripped the cool, steel handle, casting a glance at Ethan. "You ready, E?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Benny tugged the doors open, and they were hit by a wave of noise. People milled around everywhere, the cliques gathering in clusters amung the hallway. There were the Plastics who wore mini-skirts and cheerleading uniforms everywhere, the Jocks who were mostly meat heads who had the muscles of the Hulk and proved it daily, the Ghettos who talked super loudly and whipped their weave around like a lasso, the Ghetto wanna-be's, the Plastic wanna-be's, the Jock wanna-be's (or as Ethan called them, the Jock Droolers), the Tree Huggers who were dedicated to proving to them that Global Warming was upon them and that Polar Bears were dying off, the Blast From The Past kids who practically lived in the 60's, 70's and 80's trying to bring back the Golden Days, the Regulars who fit in anywhere and with anyone, the Emo / Scene kids who spent all day listening to hard-core music like Asking Alexandria and Hollywood Undead, the Club Kids who did anything to get college credits, and the Nerds, where Ethan and Benny fit in perfectly, the kids who obsessed over things like comicbooks, videogames, Star Wars and Harry Potter, the Underdogs of Whitechapel High. And Benny was quite proud being an Underdog. It suited him just fine.

The two trailed over to their lockers, exchanging the usual 'See ya in a few,' and switching their backpack shoulders. Ethan exhaled heavly and loudly, skimming through his combination and tugging up the latch. His locker swung open, and he stuffed his backpack inside, unzipping his jacket with his free hand. He stuffed that inside as well, and shuffled through the stray papers and broken pencils, locating his Chemistry book. He had Chem first hour with Benny, so he wasn't totally bored or ready to knock himself out. He was pretty upset though, because Chemistry was one of his hardest subjects, and having it first hour didn't really help. Ethan wasn't ever really awake until third period, sometimes not until fourth. So, right now instead of having the straight B he knew he could have, he had a C+, and his mom was infuriated.

"So, I was thinking, maybe tonight I could come over and we could try to study for the Chem final? So we don't bomb it again?" Benny asked, leaning agaisnt the lockers to Ethan's left. Ethan looked at him, pondering.

"Sure. If we can get any work done. We'll probably end up finishing DS2 and then failing our tests. But, whatever!" Ethan said, grinning.

"That, my friend," Benny said, pointing at Ethan. "Is the most logical thing you've ever said. I commend you for it."

"Let's just get to class." Ethan laughed.

The two walked down the hallway, giggling at eachother and mocking Ethan's lack of alien slaying skills.

When they arrived in 's Chemistry class, a waft of unpleasnt chemical hit Ethan's nose, causing him to go into a coughing fit.

"Uck *cough* what is *cough* that horrible *cough* smell *cough*?"

"I'm not sure..." Benny said, wrinkling his nose.

"How can you *cough cough* stand that *cough* stuff?"

"It doesn't really affect me. Are you sure you're going to be all right? Are you allergic to any type of chemical?"

"No, no... *cough* I think it's *cough* subsiding."

"Okay..." Benny said. He casted a worried look at his shaggy haired friend, but decided to let it drop. Benny went to his seat next to the a Plastic, sitting as far away from her as possible. For the past couple of weeks, whenever he looked at Ethan, he got butterflies and the tingles, and he wasn't sure why. He had his suspicions, but concluded that he was just nervous for class. He wasn't exactly what you would call "book smart." So, to cover up the butterflies, Benny tried to chat up the Plastic, throwing out the cheesy pick-up lines and wiggling his eyebrows. What had the Plastic done? Well, let's just say Benny didn't get to finish his cup of Starbucks... and he needed a new pair of pants. So Benny avoided being near her as well as he could.

Ethan plunked down in his seat in the second row, right acrossed the asile from Benny. Ethan, of course, was stuck right next to a Jock who didn't know the first thing about how to mix Kool-Aid, much less chemicals. Naturally, Jockstrap just sat on the stool all hour and flirted with Benny's Plastic neighbor, while Ethan and Benny struggled to get their concoction done before class was over.

As the bell rang, one of Ethan and Benny's kind-of friends, Drew, walked through the door. Drew was your typical horror-story nerd. He had thick, shiney brown hair in a kind of wave, thick black rimmed glasses that had white tape around the middle, stormy green eyes and a constant frown. His glasses were taped together because a few days ago bully snapped them in half, then proceeded to punch Drew until he was begging for mercy. Today, it seemed, Drew had been beaten-up again and his face was proof of it. There was a nasty looking cut on his temple, his left eye was bruising underneath, and his bottom lip was cut and still bleeding. He took a shakey breath and went to his seat, keeping his head down and getting something and his book out of his bag. He place the object in question in his pocket, and plunked his book onto the table top, flipping through the pages. Ethan felt sorry for the guy, but chose not to bring it up incase Drew broke down. Again.

"All right, class," boomed, closing his door to the faint ringing of the school bell. "Today, we are going to be using a new chemical today, and your job is to figure out what it is." Philmore droned on and on about their assignment today, pacing back and forth across the chalkboard and scetching out their dirrections. Twords the end, Drew raised his hand high in the air.

"Yes, Drew?" Mr. Philmore asked, grabbing a cart with beakers on it, the glass tubes filled to the rim with bubbling green liquid.

"Um, sir, doesn't this expiriment require Boron?"

"With you in the room, there's no need. We've got all the moron we need." The Jock next to Ethan cracked, earning a laugh from everyone but from Ethan and Benny. Drew's eyes narrowed, and his hands crept twords his pocket. Probably something to throw, like an eraser, Ethan decided. "By the way, Nerd Herd, your black eye doesn't really go with your outfit." Everyone snickered again, except the two, who cast a sympathetic but torn look of wanting to stand up for Drew, but couldn't.

"Mr. Greggory, please don't insult others or you will find yourself in a weeks worth of Detention."

"Yes sir." He said, but rolling his eyes all the same. He bent in closer to those around Ethan and Benny, everyone taking the cue and doing the same. "Hey, Geek Freak!" He hissed. Drew stiffened, but turned around a fraction of an inch. "You better head to rehab. I hear your OCD has hit a high on those Star Wars barbie dolls you collect. I bet you french kiss 'em because you can't get a girl." Everyone that was tooning in laughed. Drew burned a brigh pink, but didn't say anything. Mr. Philmore came by Ethan's desk, placing one of the beakers in front of him. Mr. Philmore knew that Ethan didn't ever get any help on these things, so on concoction day, he cut Ethan some slack.

Ethan got a whiff of the chemical produced in front of him, and nearly gagged. It was this stuff that was making him hack in class this morning. Ethan sat back a bit, trying to look nonchalant. He reached out quickly and poked Benny's arm, catching his attention. Ethan pointed his finger at the green stuff, then at his throat.

"So that's the stuff making you cough?" Ethan nodded his head. "Why don't you tell the teacher?"

"Can't." He choked out. "Need the grade."

"Drew!" the Jock whispered. Drew looked over his shoulder, looking thunderous. "Have I ever told you that the stuff in that jar brings out your inner jealousy? I see that the little green water's just uncovered how much you want to be me."

Ethan couldn't hold it in anymore. He let out an abrupt cough, fallowed by sevral others. He put his face into his hands, trying to muffle the sound. Drew looked over at Ethan, his frown deepening.

"Are you laughing, Ethan?" Drew asked, appaled.

"Wh-what? N-no." Ethan coughed out. His eyes were starting to water, and his chest was beginning to tighten up. Drew looked doubtful, and his hand was closing around something in his pocket. "I'm co-coughing. Th-the chem-mical is to-oo strong-g."

"Liar." Drew hissed.

"I-I'm not ly-ying. Swe-ear!"

"You're just like everyone else, laughing at his rediculous jokes just to get on his good side. None of them are even funny! You're only hoping that if you laugh hard enough or do all of his homework, you'll become popular just. Like. Him." Drew spat.

Ethan couldn't do anything but shake his head. The coughing wouldn't stop. He closed his eyes, a tear leaking out from the corner, the hacks making his eyes turn into Niagra Falls.

"Well, we'll see just how funny I really seem to be." Drew said. Ethan heard a faint clicking sound, and the brush of fabric rubbing together. Loud, scattered gasps rung themselves around the room, and Ethan forced himself to stop coughing. He cracked his eyes open, blinking away the tears of strain. Blurry pictures swam before him, everything kind of tilting. Ethan rubbed the condensation out of his eyes, letting them focas in on the object in Drew's hand.

Held between pale fingers, Ethan found himself face to face with the gleaming barrel of a Revolver.