Yes, based on the song by Nickelback.

Wow, I actually managed to plan a story—I had up until chapter three planned BEFORE I started writing. Hopefully, that'll become a more regular thing, and put an end to inconsistencies. I really looked forward to writing this for a week or two, and now that I'm done with Reward, I have time. This is also pretty lighthearted, and there really shouldn't be much angst in this. I'm not too used to first-person though, and I hope I have all of that consistent, but if I made a mistake, please tell me.

Anyway, here's the first chapter.

The window, as it always was the day rankings were posted (every Sunday), was open. I didn't want to break it again—that had hurt, and I'd had to write left-handed for a month.

Carefully, and with a deep breath, I unfolded the paper that had taunted me for the past hour. My eyes were closed; I gradually opened one enough to peek out at the first letter of the first name—all I needed, really, to know if it was the same as all those weeks prior.

N.

Near! Damn it!

"Every fucking week!" I swore, grabbing the nearest object—a large book on physics—and hurled it out the window.

"Take that, you short, white-haired fucker!" I yelled out the window, clinging to the windowsill and sticking my head out, as if he would even be able to hear. We lived on opposite ends of the orphanage, after I became known for my famous once-a-week fits of rage, always directed at Near. The bane of my existence.

I paid no mind to the figures actually outside, an unfamiliar redheaded boy standing near Roger, confused, nor to the fact that, when the book I threw landed maybe a foot away from the boy, Roger tilted his head up as well, towards my third-story room, to yell at me; I could barely hear him anyway.

They eventually disappeared, no doubt in a rush to get inside, where it was warm; England's winters were no joke. I went back to shouting obscenities at my not-present rival. Maybe someone would relay the message.

Of course, the boy would not be forgotten so easily, and Roger had always had it out for me, so I was only mildly surprised when I heard a knock at my door about fifteen minutes later. I was even less shocked to see that it was Roger, still with the boy, standing in the hallway, with the very book I had thrown out the window in his hand. He offered it out to me.

Roger hated kids, particularly the mess involved, so I should have known it would be picked up and returned.

I took the book from Roger and threw it back on the bed. I contemplated throwing it back outside, but figured there wasn't much of a chance Roger would get it for me again—and I needed write a report on that book.

"I would appreciate if you would stop throwing your things out of the window," Roger said wearily. "You could have hurt someone."

"I'll try to," I said with a mischievous smirk. We both knew I wouldn't. And if I hurt someone, it didn't really matter to me.

"So, who's he?" I nodded towards the redhead, speaking with mild curiosity. I hadn't been able to see much detail when he was outside, but as I looked closer, the boy seemed to be my age, about fourteen, give or take a few months.

That was good, already. Most of the people were younger than I was, or weren't interesting enough to keep me focused.

Or girls.

But I could tell he was different—maybe his vibrant red hair gave it away. I wanted to know more.

And, hell, he was kind of cute.

"This is Matt," Roger said; I nearly forgot I was supposed to be paying attention. The new boy was distracting me.

"His room will be just across from yours. Please try to work on your temper, if you decide to tell him how things are here, from a student's perspective. I already gave him a tour, so he can find his own way around," he said. "I don't want to hear someone had to pull you off of Near…Again."

And with that, Roger left us alone. For the first time. My heart was already beating faster; what was I supposed to say? All the times I thought of meeting a boy, words came to me easily. But now, I had none.

But it turned out, I didn't need them—he spoke first. "So…" he said awkwardly, looking at the ground and fidgeting with his hands, as if he was used to having something to hold, something to occupy them.

At least I wouldn't have to worry about being socially awkward if he was, too. Or did that mean I had to be more outgoing if I wanted to be close to him? Oh, damn it!

"What's it like here?" he finally finished.

I—internally—breathed a sigh of relief. If he was going to ask questions, that was easy. Honesty was easy, even if I chose not to be—completely, anyway—sometimes.

"Not too bad—you get your own room, and after lessons—which are assigned by interest, intelligence, and specialties—you're allowed to go anywhere, as long as it's on the grounds." I spoke somewhat-robotically, but it was better than letting him know I was nervous, right?

I could tell it seemed to be boring matt, so, with a devious smile, I added, "Just stay away from Near—I don't like him—and I guarantee you'll have at least one friend here."

Oh, god. Did that sound cheesy? No…He smiled. That's a good sign.

"I think I realized that when you started yelling," he said with a wider grin. "And the book. That was a pretty big clue, too."

He didn't ask about Near, though, so I filed away my well-rehearsed rant (to an audience of anyone who dared bring up his name) for later.

Still, the reminder that we didn't exactly start off on good terms made me blush.

"Sorry for that, by the way. I was… Testing the gravity here."

Damn it! That was so stupid!

But it got a laugh out of him—oh, God, I already loved the sound—so I smiled too, acting as if I'd actually meant to say it.

"I think it works," he said with a grin.

"Yeah," I said, kind of stupidly, mentally kicking myself for it. Why was I being so stupid?

"Sounds like you do it often," he continued, still grinning at me. I loved the sight. "Is it just you, or does everyone decide to test out the gravity every now and then?"

"It's just me," I said with a smile. "Nobody else seems as concerned as I am. Unless you'd like to try it sometime?" I said it with a smile, a lighthearted tone, but it still apparently came out wrong—maybe like a threat—because he only muttered "Maybe" and withdrew to his room.

Damn it! I blew it.

I didn't have any choice after that—other than sit out in the hallway waiting for him and staring at the door, which would be creepy and ruin any chances I might still have had with him—than go to my own room and think about Matt. And, of course, the ever-important issue of what I'd say to him when I saw him next. Whenever that would be.

As I thought of him, I smiled; I couldn't help it, despite the nauseous feeling in my stomach, the product of negative, nervous thoughts (would he even ever talk to me again? How badly did I mess up? Does he think I'm stupid? What did he think when he saw me?).

Matt… I tried to recall every detail; his messy red hair, his gorgeous eyes—oh, damn it, what color were his eyes?

Oh, well I'd have a long time to gaze into them later. Hopefully. If he didn't get creeped out by it.

The thought brought a smile to my face. Oh, why was I being such a girl? Did love do this to everyone?

…Love?

God, I was close to one of those girls talking to their pets like people (for me, of course, I'd talk about Matt), if I assumed it was love.

Honestly. Girls fell in love. Right? I was too tough for this. I'd never turned to mush like this around any boy before, or even thinking about one, cute or not.

And God, was he cute.

As the thought made me smile and nearly squeal, I reached down my pants to be sure I was still male.

I was.

Thank God. Reassured, I allowed myself to begin my Sunday ritual—studying for hours on end, without distraction, so I could win next week.

Of course, the physics book reminded me of Matt—not that I could really get him out of my mind, anyway—so I began one of the many reports on scientific theories (I'd already memorized the most important facts, anyway) that I'd have to do by the end of the week.

By the time I finished (two of them, more than Near would have done by this time) it was already past eleven at night. I debated going across the hall to tell Matt good night—and that if he needed to know what classroom to go to tomorrow after breakfast, even though he would have a map and schedule, that he could ask me—but decided it was a bit creepy. And he may have been asleep anyway.

I finally stopped resisting the overflow of thoughts of Matt, tormenting me as I tried to do my reports, allowing myself to dwell on his features and analyze the words he'd said to me, his voice like a song. I set it on repeat, a smile on my face for once, as someone besides Near was on my mind when I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.

Or, well, I tried to—I couldn't stop thinking. Usually, it was about Near, his stupid smugness, but tonight Matt dominated my mind. As much as it pained me to, I forced myself to empty my mind, including, sadly, my mental picture of Matt's gorgeous face.

And I eventually managed to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, instead of immediately remembering my failure, my second-place ranking—as was typical of Monday mornings—Matt was the first thing I thought of. I wanted to see him, to talk to him again. To get closer to him—he probably thought of me as a friend, at least, since it seemed I was the only person he'd talked to. I hoped he was my friend, at least.

Maybe I should see if he wants me to show him where the cafeteria is? Maybe we could go together.

The thought made me smile. Maybe I could convince him to hold hands—oh, how stupid was this going to make me?

I hurried through my shower, soaping myself up hurriedly, in random places, and washed my hair quickly, too (I, of course, couldn't quit doing things like this; I had to look my best, at all times, and especially now—for Matt).

As soon as I finished brushing my hair (I had long hair in a 'feminine' hairstyle—it was inevitable), forgoing the blow drier for once, I wondered if he would even be awake. I'd feel guilty if I woke him up, but stupid if I got there and he was gone.

After waiting a few minutes in my bathroom (simultaneously looking at my reflection, making sure I looked my best) I made myself walk out the door. But without even going to knock on his door, I knew he was awake—and didn't need anyone to guide him to the cafeteria.

Anyone else, anyway. It seemed he was more than satisfied by the blonde, big-breasted girl attached to his arm.

She was such a whore! Weren't friends supposed to come first, anyway? Well… We weren't technically friends, I guessed, but still!

He didn't even seem to notice as I passed him, making my way to the cafeteria, twice as pissed as I normally was on a Monday—Near's success (and my failure that accompanied it) hit me again, and the new anger and jealousy directed at Matt and his apparent girlfriend only made it worse.

But as I made it through the lunch line, I realized the girl he was with in the hall wasn't the only one—they all flocked towards him, crowded around him at a table. And apparently, he liked that they were there—but what guy wouldn't? I thought to myself—he laughed, before pulling one of them close and kissed her. They both smiled after he pulled away, though the girl looked a bit surprised, yet pleased, and blushed.

I liked his smile before, but now it filled me with rage. I couldn't believe how he already had managed to betray me—though I had no reason to feel betrayed, since we weren't ever together.

Maybe we never would be. He was so obviously straight, with all his little whores gathered around him.

But couldn't he at least have told me about it, or offered to "share"—not that I would; girls who give themselves away just because someone is 'hot' annoy me—if we really were friends?

I didn't even know that I was digging my nails into my palms until I felt the warm blood trickling down my fingers. I couldn't bear to watch this any longer.

Without even eating—I slammed my tray on the table and left it there, my stomach too sick to even contemplate eating—I knew I was done here. I turned around.

I was the first one in the classroom that day, but the fact that I'd finally beaten Near in something didn't excite me like it normally would have.

Wow, I wrote this chapter in like three days…Most of which was on the first. (: I'm proud of myself, actually, for writing something that isn't overly explicit, aside from Mello's overobsession with swear words. And…Creepily groping himself. O_O I like how he's REALLY GIRLY in this. And out of character. Sorry. =/

But, anyway, I'll hopefully have the next chapter up soon. Hopefully less than a week? (: It turned out longer than I thought it would (but still shorter than most of my other chapters for other stories…)

Tell me what you think so far?