A/N

I'll be the first to admit that this is sort of copying. Therefore, I will try to minimise the guilt on my shoulders ;)

The story is Total Drama Island characters in Cecil Castellucci's book, Beige. I've added a few of the TDI characters into new spots in the book and removed other of Cecil Castellucci's charactres. The idea that makes Beige work is also used in my story, but the plot is somewhat different.

And I know I should be working on George and Cara. The updates on both of these stories will be even slower than usual! Sorry!!

~Chapter 1~

I stood leaning on my bedroom door while my mother shoved a Mac Pac full of my clothes. She was also chatting about how it would be great to experience a new culture, but all the while avoiding the name of my father.

My father was always called The Rat in our house, which I can't stand. His real name is James. James was in a band called Suck, which I don't know a lot about. Mum won't really tell me more. She says that's all in her past and shouldn't be revisited.

I think that's wrong. I'm going head long into her past and I don't even know where to get a good coffee from.

"Mum, I'm going to see Bella,"

"Okay," she smiled, but not her real smile. I once heard her say to Nonna that her real smile got her in so much crap that she's scared of it. I've seen a photo of her, with her hair in dreadlocks and her arms around my father and a girl with lank black hair. That girl has her arm around Sam Suck, the other guy in James' band. My mum is smiling like she's never going to die. Like she is forever going to be with the people she loves.

Her smile was so full of life, and now she's scared of it. She's scared of life.

I left the house quickly, grabbing a jacket from the hallway. It was winter here, but in LA it would be summer. I hoped that they knew how to surf.

I walked quickly along the tiny street to the sound of horns and cars. We lived in a terrace house in Newtown, Sydney, where the small streets lead onto King Street, a busy and interesting world. I loved it here and would be so sad to leave, especially going to a dingy flat in the sticky heat.

I turned onto Kings Street and hurried a few blocks down to the train station, which would take me to Bella. Lucky Bella lived close to the sea; otherwise my surfing wouldn't have surfaced. Almost everyday I head down the street with my surfboard under my arm and hop on a train. Bella is always there, waiting outside her over-sized house.

I would miss that the most.

Bella's parents were almost always away, so Bella and her older brother had the run of the place. They were always having parties, but my mum and Nonna always say no. I don't even ask anymore. I never go where I'm not meant to and I always stay away from that imaginary line that I'm so sure is further away for other people. I don't upset my mum or my Nonna. They have given me so much and I'm happy, I just wish that I could live more.

I'm angry with my mum. She hasn't told me anything about where I'm going, other than they are on holidays now and I won't have to go to school. I don't even know where to have a good coffee.

When she was sixteen, she ran away from home and went to LA. Met my father. Got hooked on heroin. Got pregnant with me when she was eighteen. Went into rehab and had me just after she got out. That's all I know about my mother's past and where I came from.

I put my monthly ticket into the machine and walk through. That ticket expired in one week. Five days after I had left the place I love. I felt angry at the ticket and shoved it into my pocket.

I slouched into a seat. After three stops, a lady so old she was held together by medical bailing twine got on. I gave up my seat for her and stood, staring angrily at the middle aged man next to me. He could have given up his seat, but no. Everyone else could have. We seemed to be down on manners. Thank god for my Nonna. She would have gotten stuck into him if it was her here and not me.

I stood for the rest of the journey, swaying with the train.

Getting off at Bondi, where the beach was almost empty, I felt a surge of love. Sure, this place was crowded and the water felt dirty, but it was the place where I had learnt to surf. Jackson, Bella's brother, had taken us too much better places to surf. Small little secrets that were hidden by the locals. But I still loved this commercial beach.

I walked half a kilometre to Bella's place. Surprise, surprise, her parents cars weren't there.

I knocked on the door and Bella opened the door.

"Courtney!" She shouted happily, throwing her arms around me and hugging me tight.

"Hey, Bells," I said, hugging back. "I'm going tomorrow," I told her, holding back the tears.

"Oh," this stumped her. "Well, let's have fun while you're here! You are so lucky going to LA!" she knew I wasn't looking forward to it and was trying to lighten the mood.

We walked into the almost all white house with our arms around each other. We were greeted by my almost brother, Jackson.

"Hey, Courtney!" he said, hugging me. I hugged back, knowing that I was going to miss Jackson. Jay, Jackson's boyfriend, poked his head in from the kitchen and laughed at us.

"Hope you're not going to steal him, Courtney!" he teased and stepped out with a tray of Yo-Yo's in his hands. I almost melted at the sight of my favourite biscuits. Jay was such a good cooker, it was a pity he was gay. It was actually a pity that Jackson was gay too. I would have married both of them otherwise.

"YUM!" I shouted grabbing a yo-yo before Jay could stop me.

Everyone laughed, and then joined me in my devouring session, including Jay, who was very protective of his yo-yos.

~*~

I stood awkwardly at the international terminal, about to board. My Mum was doting and my Nonna was standing back and looking at me as though to say: 'Don't break her heart'.

I knew what she was talking about.

"Mum, I have to go," I said, kissing her check and walking up to Nonna.

"Be safe and don't hurt her, okay?" she whispered, hugging me. I nodded and stepped back.

"Bye, Mama, I'll email you as soon as I get there!" I promised, kissing her check again and hugging her. I left quickly and didn't look back. I could tell she was having second thoughts about me going, but it was her idea and she isn't going to change her mind on me.

I was taken to my seat and given a small purple bag, for entertainment. Usually, I would be embarrassed. But now I realise that I'm never ever going to see these people again, so I should enjoy it all. All of my life. I should enjoy all of my life.

The plane took off after the emergency procedure, which I practically wrote down. My ears popped.

I settled as well as I could into the one-size-fits-all seats. I smiled weekly at the pasty looking woman in to seat next to me. I was sitting by the aisle, which I had been told was good. I could get to the toilet and the exit quicker than everyone else! What a plus! I sighed and plugged in my 'complementary headphones' (to quote the air hostess) into the seat's arm. I fiddled with the music.

There were months old 'hits'.

I settled for the comedy bit after torturing my ears through those horrible 'hits.

Bella and I were strong triple J listeners. We really couldn't stand those 'hits'. I remember one time, late at night, when my father's band had come on. I kept quiet about that. Bella had loved that song and I had been forced to listen to my father's voce for a week. That wasn't a voice I knew well. I had only seen my father twice, once when I was three years old, and the other when I had been five. James had been high when I was visiting. Thankfully, my mother was there also. We stayed in a hotel and I didn't get to say goodbye to James. I remember feeling sad about that, but staying quiet so I didn't upset my mother. I think that I mustn't have known what was going on then.

Now my mother sending me back to that dangerous place. That place. The place my mother and Nonna brought me up to fear. I couldn't quite get it. Maybe Mama thought that I was old enough to deal with the reality of my father.

I still didn't want to.

~*~

I stumbled out of the international airport in LA with my satchel over my shoulder and my surf board safely tucked under my arm. James had gallantly put his hand up to take my bags, just before he saw them. It was funny to see his face, and I would have laughed I wasn't so tired. I had only slept for four hours on the plane. I could never sleep on trains, buses, cars, anything!

James had brought someone with him. A mate I supposed. He was around my age with a green mo-hawk that had the short, thick spikes at the bottom and getting longer until the crown of his head. His face and ears were covered in piercings. He was exactly the sort of person I had been brought up to sear and avoid.

James took my surfboard and bag and put it in the boot.

"Hope in!" he said a little too brightly. I mumbled something back and got into the front seat. The green haired punk scowled and got into the messy back seat. The car was ancient, nothing like Nonna's Sparkling new little Honda. I knew that car wasn't the best, but it got mum to work and Nonna to her hair dressers.

James obviously wanted to talk, but I was already zoned out. Almost asleep, but not quite.

After a few hours of the awkward silence, we drove into a grimy block of flats.

The sign said Garbage Heights, but that was only the graffiti. It was so graffitied that you couldn't see what the sign was meant to say.

I could see the bright blue of the swimming pool in the centre. I mentally groaned. It was guarantied that the pool would be full of kid piss.

James forced that green haired punk to take my stuff up with him, leaving me trailing behind and feeling sorry for myself.

~*~

I slumped onto James' couch, not catching the eye of the green haired punk. He was staring at me as though he was trying to see what I was thinking.

James bustled in with soft drinks. He was trying to look dad-like, but wasn't quite managing. He shoved guitars and music papers out of the way to sit next to me on the sagging couch. He smiled at me, but I closed my eyes and looked away.

"Do you want to sleep?" he asked. "I know I would!" he laughed at his private joke and I frowned.

"No thankyou. My friend Bella travels a lot, and she says that you should fight the jetlag," I told him with narrowed eyes. His laugher died away, leaving awkwardness in its wake.

The green haired punk picked up a guitar and started fiddling with the cords. I closed my eyes and smiled, knowing the song as if from a dream.

"What song is that?" I asked.

"London Calling by The Clash," he said, expressionless.

"Oh," I said simply, going through the music in my head. Yes, I knew that song. Jay had once played it on the classical piano in Bella and Jackson's sitting room. It had sounded out of place there, but here in this dingy, sticky flat in LA, it fitted. I didn't smile, didn't give any signal to him that I knew it.

"Do you know it?" he asked. Damn, I thought to myself.

"One of my friends once played it for me," I said, looking down at my fiddling hands and missing Jay, Jackson and Bella.

"Courtney, come see your room!" said James, interrupting the green haired punk as he opened his mouth to say something.

"James, who is that?" I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.

"That's Duncan. He got into so much trouble with the whole 'rock n roll' thing, his parents decided to get him a mentor. To show him that you can have music without drugs, and stuff. It's kind of like I'm his big brother,"

"Do you mean he lives here?" I said, shocked. Damn, two punk rockers to deal with. James opened the door at the end of the hallway.

"Oh course. I'm sure I mentioned it to your mom," he said with his American accent.

"It's MUM," I said, under my breath.

"What?" James said, but didn't wait for my answer. "Well, this is your room,"

"Wow," I said without meaning to. But the room was… funky. It had colourful fairy lights on one wall, with a double bed and a purple bedspread. On the wall were boards of random colours. It was neutral, but funky. It was the sort of room that Bella or Jay would like… I felt a surge of love for my friends back at home.

"Do you like it?" he asked excitedly. It was like he was a little kid.

"Yes…" I began to wonder if I should lie and say what my Mama and Nonna would want me to say, but I decided to tell the truth.

James walked to the hidden wall, which I could now see to be covered in guitars. All electric, of course.

"This was the room where I used to keep my guitars" said James. "I got you one, too," he pointed to a burnt orange electric guitar. He remembered that I liked orange.

The last time I had been here, I was five. I had loved the colour orange and even insisted that my eyes were that colour. I blinked away the tears in my eyes.

"Do you like it?" he asked, trying to look into my eyes. I hid my face and lied.

"Yes," I was classically trained, and had never touched a guitar like that in my life. I left the room in a flurry, and guess who I bumped into? That jerk, who I now knew to be Duncan, who was looking at me and seemed to know what I was thinking. I was crying and felt like screaming down the phone at my mum, telling her this was all wrong, not dealing with that punk.

"I'm going for a walk!" I shouted, slamming the door. I sank to the floor, just outside the flat's door. I heard hushed tones, and then raised voices, and I knew that they were arguing about me. The door slammed and Duncan almost fell over me. I tried to hide my face and the tears that were streaming down it, but it didn't work.

"Are you okay?" he asked, not too loudly, thank god. I shook my head and the flood gates seemed to open a little wider. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. I sank into him, not caring who I was hugging.

Finally the tears stopped and I sat hiccupping with my head on Duncan's shoulder.

"Do you want to go get a coffee?" he asked, looking down at me.

"Yes," I stumbled up and he followed me. I felt so tired, a full body drooping sort of tired.

"Are you tired?" he asked when he caught up. I looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Nah dah. I've just flown for how many hours from winter to a hot summer! Not as hot as last summer in Australia, though," I trailed off and drooped more, if that was possible. Duncan put his arm around me and held me up. I would have pushed him, but I was too tired.

"You need a strong coffee!" he announced. I smiled and would have said something if I could talk. I mean, I can talk, I'm just too tired. He's muddling me up!

We walked for a long time (to me) and arrived at a Moroccan style café called the Casbar (A/N: It's in the book, I don't know if it's real).

"Here you go," said Duncan, holding the door open for me. He is a gentleman, I thought to myself. Then I regretted it.

We sat down at a mosaiced table and I avoided his piercing turquoise eyes. Did that just sound corny, or is it me? Well, I avoided his gaze.

He ordered a double shot latte for me and a cappuccino for himself. I hope that this place had good coffees.

~*~

I woke up to find my self spread mall over the table and Duncan grinning at me holding two cups.

"Thanks," I mumbled before taking a huge gulp of my coffee and burning my tongue.

"Slow down, Princess!" he laughed.

"Why'd you call me that?" I said.

"You looked like such a princess," He saw my glare and laughed. "That's called sarcasm. I'm not sure if you've heard of it!"

I narrowed my eyes at him and blew on my half empty coffee to cool it down.

"I am so tired," I said after a bit.

"Go to sleep," he said easily, leaning back in his chair. "I'll carry you home," he winked.

"No," I snapped, but my eyelids were already dropping into a comfortable position and that table looked like a pillow from where my mind was.

A/N

YAY all nice and written! I like writing this story. It's nice.

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The thing is, if 25 people view this story but only 5 review, it makes me think that maybe this story isn't all worthwhile.

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