My name is Nala. Nala Christine Thomas, to be more proper. I have a twin sister named Nova. We have different names. I was always curious as to how we got our names, but every time I would dare ask our mother, we'd never get a direct answer.

'I liked those names', or, 'I wanted you two to stand out more.'

I guess, if you really thought about it, we were different. But it was the kind of different you wouldn't take a second glance at. Only we noticed it. To everybody else, we were perfectly normal.

We attended a regular high school, as juniors. Only one more year to go before we finally graduated. We had a lot of friends. I guess you could consider us 'popular', or 'good', like most of the people there. Then you had your band of misfits. Screw ups, burn outs, and so on. You get the idea. They were the type of people we were sheltered from. My mom, she always said they were natural-born killers, and that they were dangerous. Hell, she even said that if we looked at them the wrong way, they would beat us to a bloody pulp! I never thought that, however, I always was fascinated by them. I even would go behind mom's back to hang out with them. Not all of them were bad. Not all of them were drug addicts, or even appeared dangerous. I liked them.

I secretly hung out with them, though. If word were to ever get around to Nova, or any of our other friends, I'd be nothing but a joke. I'd be considered trash. That's not how I want to be thought as. I never saw them as trash, just... people. Regular people. Everybody else, though, they saw them as trouble.

There was this one boy. His name was Hunter. He happened to be the sweetest, most caring person I've ever met. I couldn't say if I liked him or not, but something about him defiantly caught my eye. I wanted to get to know him better, mother permitting.

It's a Saturday afternoon. I slept in until about 2. I overslept, so when my phone alarm went off, I panicked. I rushed to get ready to go meet Hunter. Not before looking at myself in the mirror.

"God, I look like shit," I whispered to myself. "Even if he liked me," I thought, "I wouldn't stand a chance against him... I'm not edgy enough."

Let's take a run-down about everything that's wrong with my appearance, shall we? I have medium-length burgundy-ish hair. I always had a natural red-auburn color, but I wanted something that stood out a little more. I was short. About 4'11". Nova was around the same height, half an inch taller, maybe. No piercings. No tattoos. The truth is, I would love to be rebellious. Well, not rebellious, but to do something with my body. I felt too... Plain. The only thing I'd ever do to spice up my appearance was wear makeup. That was it. The way I'd dress was a combination of glitter and vintage. Whoa, there's the rebel in me. Glitter makes you tough, right?

My personality didn't go with my appearance, truthfully, and everybody noticed that. I was a smartass, I had a mouth 'like a truck driver', as my mom would say, and I fought. I liked fighting. I liked watching fights. I always felt like I was born into the wrong family, like I was adopted, or something. But then I took one look at Nova and realized we were the same person, outwardly, of course.

I finally made my way downstairs and almost out the front door.

"Where are you going?", asked my mom.

I stood there, trying to figure out an excuse before she caught me in a lie.

"Going to the mall, gotta go do some weekly window shopping," I faked a laugh. That was keyword for 'get the hell out of my way so I can go see a gorgeous boy'.

She raised an eyebrow and shook her head, "Did you forget what you had to do today?"

I stood there, confused, trying to get a grasp on what she was saying.

"Well?", she asked again.

I shrugged and prepared for the shit storm that was about to be stored upon me.

"What's today, other than Saturday?"

Of course, she looked annoyed, and then let out a sigh, "You and your sister are supposed to go out to your grandmother's to help clean out her attic. She hasn't been feeling well, and can't do too much. You should know that already, Nalz."

"Should I? Should I?", I questioned angrily in my head. The woman expects me to know these things, like she thinks I'm psychic or something.

I held back a lot I wanted to say, so I just nodded and called for Nova.

She bitched and moaned and said she wasn't going. What was her excuse? She was "sick", when hours before, she was up and running around. And mom believed her.

"Thomas, party of one, your bus to hell has arrived and is ready for take-off", I thought.

Don't get me wrong, though. I love my grandma, I just hate when Nova ditches me because she doesn't want to do a little hard labor.

Here I am on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, driving to my grandmother's house, and not seeing a cute boy and his followers.

Welcome to the life of Nala.