I glared at the backpack mom had put just before the door of my bedroom, open just enough to show my battered pencilcase sitting on top of a new notepad and a few spiral ring notebooks. Mom knew, as did I, that without that very obvious reminder of what day today was, I would have just said I had forgotten and gone back to sleep, ruining her plans for today. Rolling my eyes, I pulled on a loose pair of dark blue jeans, and my favourite charcoal grey hoodie which had MAX boldly emblazoned on the chest, and a pair of wings picked out in reflective silver thread behind. No way was I going to dress up for the prigs my new schoolmates were bound to me. I sighed for the fifth time this morning, grabbed my backpack, and loudly made my way down to the kitchen.

"This is the start! Of Something New! It feels so Right! To be Here with You!" sang/yelled a high, sweet voice. "Good morning, Maaaaax!"

"Ugh, El. Little Miss I-have-obviously-taken-too-much-sugar-this-morning-and-am-now-high,-BEWARE much?" I sniped, tugging on my sister's hair affectionately. Ella's hands immediately dropped her bowl of low-fat high-grain cereal, and flew to her mocha-coloured locks, swept into a complicated bun at the nape of her creamy-white neck. Her eyes narrowed at me, and her mouth opened, but before she could launch into a speech on Twenty Reasons Not To Mess With The Hair Of The Fashion Conscious, my elder and only brother took pity on me and intervened.

"You'd better hurry up, Ellie, you're going to be late! And we don't want to be late on the first day at Avon, do we?", said Jon, in a bright tone. I glanced at him briefly, and he quirked his lips at me, then nodded at Ella, who had frozen for a second, then gone into a frenzy of activity, attempting to gobble down her cornflakes and touch up her makeup all at once, but only succeeding in smearing milk on her cheek.

I turned to Jon and feigned surprise. "Wow, really? From the way you've been acting for the past few years, I thought 'the later, the better' was the school motto. Not really? Sorry, your bad."

But instead of mock-glaring at me and commencing the heated verbal battle that we always had every morning (and which I really, really needed this morning), he just shook his head pityingly at me, and passed me a plate heaped full of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon just hot from the frying pan. I stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Wha-"

"To celebrate your first day as an Avon scholar, duh! Now dig in, a growing girl needs her food," interrupted Jon. I sat on the urge to jibe at his mother-hen tendencies, and settled for mumbling, "and my last day as a Blackwellian." He paused for a moment, and looked at me concernedly in the eye. I nodded at him in reassurance. I was going to be okay. Probably. After a while of studious shoveling-in of food, Jon stood up and started clearing away the plates, snatching mine away from under my nose with a wicked grin.

"At this rate, we are really going to be late, my dear sisters. And as much as I'd love to maintain my bad-boy reputation that the ladies all love, I have my sisters' reputation to protect," he announced, paused, then added, "I mean, I have Ella's reputation to protect. I shall have nothing to do with Max's reputation."

I rolled my eyes and punched him in the chest, hard. As usual, he didn't falter an inch. I mentally raised my eyebrows with approval. He'd gotten more fit lately. I wonder…

My speculations were rudely interrupted with Jon pushing Ella and I out of the door, and into his dark red convertible.

"Mom's not here, so I'm fetching you guys to school," he said, then added, cackling like a villain in vaudeville, "AND I get to introduce you to your new Principal."

I folded my arms, slightly disgusted. With whom or what, I did not know. It could be the officious creakiness of the plush purple chair I was now seated in. It would be the royal-blue, immaculately vacuumed carpeted floor. It could be the walk-into-able transparency of the perfectly clear glass doors. Or it could just be the fact that the chair was not a splintering wooden bench, the floor was not coated in cracking, fading linoleum, and this place just simply oozed elitism, snobbery, and money, so unlike the simple hominess of Blackwell. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to storm out of this room and this blasted, velvety, carpeted, luxurious, rich place, and back into Blackwell, where Sabine, B. , and Chelsea were. Who cared that it was more convenient for Ella, Jon, and I to all go to the same school? Convenience be damned, I would lose my sanity here. I could not stand snobbery, could not stand stuck-up people, could not stand vulgar shows of wealth, and thus most definitely could not stand how I would be associated with all these.

Ella, in her silky turquoise crop-top and flouncy mid-thigh deep brown skirt which brought out the blue in her eyes and mocha of her hair perfectly, would fit in here perfectly. Not because she was a snob, but because she was so easy-going, so friendly, so interested in everybody. She could easily crack the polished exteriors of all these hard, porcelain rich people. People could not help but open up to her bright nature, and show their best side when around her.

Jon, in his leather jackets over dress shirts, Mr-Quirky-Slash-Nonexistent-Fashion-Sense, and so different from Ella, ironically also did fine here, in Avon, school by the elite for the elite. While Ella was gregarious and extroverted, Jon tended to keep to himself, and seemed intimidating to most people. Yet, he had this dark aura, a sort of charisma, which both intimidated and intrigued, as well as a wicked sense of humour. People would be drawn to him like moths to a light, and he would treat most with a sort of removed, aloof friendliness, but the way he treated those he accepted made it impossible to not-want to be part of his inner circle. Even the most snobbish came to him, but he would only truly befriend the "cool kidz", as he deemed them. In any case, he was always surrounded by people, and had a group of friends he liked and trusted.

But me? I would just as soon punch the lights out of people than befriend them. The moment anyone annoyed me, even the littlest of things, I would make my opinions of them clear – and this would normally be done with my fists. I would not allow them to show their better sides or their real personalities (if any) before I would make them my enemies.

I sighed. This was hopeless. I was supposed to wait for someone to "escort" me to my first class. Ella already had "Monique", a pretty, extremely friendly, African-American in a stylish purple halter-neck summer dress bring her to her first AP Biology class. Even though Ella was a year younger than I, she was incredibly intelligent and hardworking, and took many classes with me. She already seemed to have made fast friends with Monique, she would be fine here. She didn't need me. Making one my infamous split decisions, I lept to my feet, grabbed my backpack, and dashed out of the room, fully intending to catch the next bus to Blackwell –

- only to crash into a black-clad chest. Which was buff, and extremely well-muscled, comparable to that of Jon's. In fact, it's lean definition rather made Jon's look rather too-muscled and...

Not that I was comparing, of course! I hurriedly looked up angrily, ready to throw my first punch in this blasted school which unfortunately seemed to be well-stocked with fit, muscled, hot guys with 8-packs… only to look into a pair of equally angry, unfathomably deep and mysterious obsidian eyes.

A/N : This is admittedly my first fic, EVER, so I need a lot of feedback so I can improve, make my stories more interesting. Plot ideas would be very much welcomed too! (: Thanks guys. :3