Notes/Warnings:
- this is not meant to be taken seriously AT ALL
- said cockle of crazy is my play off of the cliche self-inserts, or obsessive-fangirl-who-goes-into-Death-Note, but with a twist: Mama says "NO"; because what 'girl and girl's friends in Death Note' fanfiction is complete without THAT insanity?
- as of 2015, this story has a beta! and also as of 2015, this story lost its beta!
- bad narrating is intentional when in Jewel's POV

I do not own Death Note, but you might be able to guess what would happen if I did... :3

Level Zero

When someone asks if you want to hear a blonde joke, you immediately assume that the blonde will not be having her best of days. She finds herself asking directions when she falls from the Empire State Building, looking for the corner in that circular room while blindfolded, and a few other amusing situations. (And yes, it's usually a "she.") When you picture a blonde, what's the first thing that comes to your mind?

Probably someone like me.

Joking! I'm a hundred and two percent redheaded, but I had you going, didn't I? Well, alright. I dyed blonde streaks in my bangs, but that's it! Then again, I might as well be a blonde; I sure have the balance of one.

My name is Juliana Cueva, and I'll be your comedian for the night. (Yeah, yeah, I know. My last name is Hispanic, but no one in my family even has a Hispanic ancestor, much less knows how to speak Spanish! I think someone screwed up a birth certificate a few generations back...) I have short, flaming red hair that comes down just past my chin and exotic blue eyes that can stare right into your very soul and can burn you alive with my awesome laser vision and-

Pfft. I wish. When I said my hair was "flaming," I meant both the color and the out-of-control-ness fire usually has. It's called "wild fire" for a reason. That's probably not a word, but let's pretend it is for now. I meant "out-of-control-ness," not fire. And my eyes are no where near exotic. Imagine a bar of white chocolate. Now drop it in a mud puddle. That's what my eyes look like: a disaster that looked like it should have been white, but ended up splotched with brown. My mom says it's a genetic disorder; I say it's a genetic discord. It's been years, and my little joke continues to pass over her head and out the nearest window to its fairly repetitive death.

People usually ask me what I want to be when I grow up. My answer? 'Do I have to grow up?' All adults do nowadays are complain, argue, complain some more and pay bills. Rinse and repeat. If my life became as repetitive as my joke's deaths, I just might have an aneurysm.

So when one of my two best friends ask me what my job is during a game of Life, I reply brightly, "A writer!"

Now would normally be where other people would back up and begin a long, drawn out back story about who they are, when they were born and how many times they've went to the bathroom in the past nine years. I mean, hello! Readers don't need to know your entire life story crammed into two paragraphs. Does "personal" not hold any water with readers nowadays? All you need to know about me is that I'm a senior in high school and I hold the record for most injuries caused by falling. Anything else that you need to know- well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

So it was me, Eve and G sitting on a pile of seeds in the middle of the weeds. (Guess who can't write poetry!) No, really. We were sitting out in a middle of a field on Eve's grandparent's farm. Why? Simple:

We. Were. Bored.

"Wow... Why didn't I think of that..?" mutters G. Okay, her real name isn't G, but her mom's been AWOL since she was five and her dad's a notorious crack addict. After all, no sane person has named their daughter Gabriela since the Edict of Nantes. (My apologies if someone has. No offense meant. But guess who's failing World History IV?)

"Because life sucks..?" suggests Eve jokingly. Yep, another long name, but mine and G's don't hold a candle to Evangeline. (I honestly think the name rocks, but try telling Eve otherwise.)

We were friends, bound by the insane length of our names. Epic, no? (See! I'm not failing English! Epic = poetic. I feel smart!) At least they were somewhat reasonable. I'd keel over dead if someone changed my name to something French.

So we sit, bored, as we wait for the nothingness to end. Hey, the end of the world sounded fun right about now! It was exciting, right?

I fall onto my back, eyes closed, and murmur, "All in favor of drop-kicking the game board into a nonexistent creek say 'ay.'"

There is a chorus of 'ay's, so I sit up and look around at my two best friends.

Eve is your poster girl blonde (blue eyes, slender body, the whole shibang), but she's definitely not your run-of-the-mill sort of girl. Evangeline is schizophrenic, and some days, you can really tell when the schizophrenia's kicking in. One minute, you're having a goofy conversation and the next- BOOM! It's 'uh, where's Eve?' 'Oh, y'know. Just barking up a tree.' (And sometimes, we do mean that literally.)

Unfortunately for me, Eve isn't providing a source of amusement, so I turn to G.

Gabriela has the longest freaking hair I've ever seen. It's a beautiful shade of brown that reminds me of dark chocolate, and comes down to her hips. Most of the time, it's in an intricate braid or a simple ponytail. The "in-between" option is rarely ever seen because it's so long that it gets in her way when it's down. Her eyes are a dark shade of green that reminds me of her birthstone, emerald.

Today we're wearing matching black tank tops and khaki shorts. (I know, I lovely fashion statement.) Tennis shoes for G, flip flops for Eve, steel-toed boots for me. I know. I'm ol' fashioned.

"Does anyone want to play Concentration 64?" I ask, eyes closed as I stretch out on my back in the heat of the sun.

"How about something that doesn't require effort?" comes G's voice.

"Point addressed," I amend. I open my mouth to say something else- but get cut off before I can even begin. (How is that even possible?)

A loud cannon blast shoots all three of us to our feet.

"What the..?" G's eyes are wider than I've ever seen them, and Eve is somehow an even paler shade of snow white.

"Was that a gun shot?" whispered Eve.

I know my mouth is moving, but nothing's coming out. I know I should say something, but I can't.

More gun shots. Eve is beginning to hyperventilate and is staggering backwards; G isn't doing much of anything.

And then my mouth decides to take over.

"Mello!"

Wait, what?

G is gaping at me like I'm insane, and then it happens.

"Who the hell is shooting on my grandparents' farm?" roars Evangeline, eyes blazing. G takes a step back as Eve storms forward, grabbing my hand and G's. "Come on, girls. We're going to give this guy a piece of our minds."

"Are you crazy?" G wrenches her hand from Eve's grasp. "People run away from gunshots, not towards them!"

"Are you suggesting that we retreat?" hisses Eve.

"We're not retreating," I assure her, butting in. "We're advancing in a different direction, now come on!"

"Fine. Turn tail and run if you're in a cowardly mood. Suit yourself." And she's gone, disappearing into the field with only waving fronds to show that she had ever bypassed the place.

I exchange a blank glance with G, too shocked to make our expressions match our feelings.

Confession: anime/manga freak that I am. The works of moi will more than likely be filled with me quoting a few of my favorites. For example, shouting out 'Mello!' Yep. Fangirl-ness at work. Anyone who is always seen with guns and chocolate is my kind of guy. At least now you have proof that I may not be the weirdest of our little group.

"Should we go after her..?" asks G warily.

I shrug. "It'd be cool if it really was Mello."

My horrible attempt at a joke flies over her head and crash-lands somewhere in the barley, dead. I was the only one who had read/watched Death Note, so I'm not surprised.

"Let's go," she sighs and we take off at a flat run after her.

And yes, common sense was currently on a week-long vacation, but I rarely miss it. What the hey, I'm bipolar, people! Heh, it fits the bill. Eve's schizophrenic and G's dyslexic, so why not?

We reach the end of the field and skid to a halt to get a good look around. The two-story farmhouse (that doubles as a barn) is staring us straight in the face. It's a faded shade of green, though its roof was a dark forest green. It's door are a shade of white that might have once been white but is now a tan-gray color. It's the kind of place that screams 'Welcome home!'

And it was screaming alright, or rather, the people inside of it.

I bolt forward, recognizing the enraged roar of Evangeline and the doubled shriek of her grandparents. And the scream of my mom. I forgot that my mom was coming to pick me up today...

But all I can think about it what's happening inside. My heart is hammering in my chest, blood roaring in my ears. I can faintly hear G's footsteps pounding the dirt as we charge towards the building.

Then common sense catches up to me, and I slam to a halt, G tumbling into me.

"Quick, this way!" I hiss and realign my path to Eve's window. Nope. My common sense moments never last long.

G shoots me a look.

"If someone's attacking them, they'll expect us to come through the front or side door. Eve's bedroom's at the back of the house. We can climb in through her window using that old tree as leverage," I explain hurriedly as we run.

She nods, emerald eyes wide.

We reach the back of the house and I immediately take a flying leap at the tree and hoist myself onto the highest branch I can reach- which is almost three feet from the ground. No, I'm not much of an athlete. I turn and hold out my hand for G, who grabs it and uses it to swing herself onto a branch above mine. Together, we reach the top in no time, hands full of splinters, but we could be worse.

More gun shots. More screams. This time, I can make out Eve's terrified wailing above everyone else's. Guess her mood swing ended as swiftly as it began.

I scale the rooftop as quickly as I can, then thrust Eve's window open and dive inside. I hit the ground running, literally.

Not even making sure if G is behind me, I bolt down the hallway into Eve's grandparents' room. There was a gun around here somewhere... I think in desperation. Oh, screw it!

I backpedal into the hallway only to run headlong into G, who's supporting the old shotgun. A single nod, then I put my hands on the railing and jump for all it's worth, landing squarely on my feet on the floor below.

I told you before that I'm not much of an athlete, well that comes into play now.

I tumble head over heels as momentum of the impact rolls me off my feet. I crash into something hard, my left ankle throbbing, my head ablaze. I sit up with a groan. So much for my dramatic entrance.

Though my vision is blurry, I can make out G explode from the open stairwell, gun cocked and aimed at-

Me.

I scream and dive sideways, only to be hampered by my bad ankle. Maybe I'd broken it. I collapse to the floor and screech, "Are you crazy! I'm not the one you want, moron!"

"Put your hands in the air!" Though she's terrified- I would know my best friend- her voice doesn't waver. As my sight begins to clear, I look around, but alone to be met by a horrible sight.

A black-clad figure is on the floor, gun aimed at G, who's gun is also aimed at the figure. Eve and my mom, Lily are crouched in a corner, eyes wide in terror. When my eyes land on the two limp figures and the pool of red they lay in, I look away as fast as I can.

This was wrong, all wrong.

"Drop the gun," growls the figure, who I presume is a man.

"Same to you," hisses G. I can see sweat forming on her brow and her legs are trembling slightly. The girl the strongest of all of us, but even those with the most stamina give out eventually.

Eve and her grandparents won't be able to help, and Mom is out of the count.

Slowly, as not to draw attention to myself, I shift my weight to my right foot as I drag myself into a sitting position. Then, on the world's stupidest impulse, I throw myself headfirst at the man and scream at the top of my lungs, "Look out, Rue!"

A gun goes off, but I can't tell whose. All I know is that the world is suddenly crumbling around me and I am falling into a black abyss.

I'm sorry, Eve, G, I think as my mind swirls into nothingness.