Author's Note: I know what you might be thinking: Here she goes again, writing another multi-chap that she might delete again. Okay, I'll make sure that this won't get deleted. The reason for this story is because I want to try writing good fics. I still have a lot of one-shots to post and I have a problem with my writing so maybe writing this multi-chap would help. Oh, and this is slightly based on Perfect by Ellen Hopkins so it'll be (like really little) AU.

Enough of that, I hope you enjoy reading this chappie :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything familiar.

Perfect (adj.) – without error, fault, flaw.

Diamond.

I'll admit, it's hard living up to my family name. Not only because of the reputation my parents have put up, but the word itself. Diamond. When you hear the word 'diamond', the first thing that you think of is its brilliance and how it reflects the light. And that's what I want people to think of me the moment they hear or read my name. I want them to think of my face, my body, my features and how exquisite it is.

I grew up under the watchful eye of my parents, especially my mother. She made sure that I grew up, camera ready, from my eyes, to my nose, to my cheeks, to my teeth, to my jaw line until my toned body. I remember wearing all sorts of braces just to make sure that whatever she wanted to fix came out perfect. Of course, not every procedure was forced onto me; most of it was actually something that I prayed to happen. I wanted to be like my mother, she was beautiful and everyone admired her.

As I grew, I started taking my own risks to be perfect. I didn't care if people said that it could harm me greatly.

I wanted people to look at me as the epitome of purity, of perfection . . .

And maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to make friends.

Mitchell.

When you're here in Texas and you mention the name 'Mitchell' to anyone, the first thing they'll say to you is 'It's too bad, huh. She could've been really famous'. Everyone in town knows the story, just not the whole story.

You see, my sister, Sage Mitchell, tried to commit suicide. And I guess it didn't turn out the way she planned. She lived. And she was sent to a rehabilitation center as soon as it was possible. When people found out the news about a very successful and intelligent student committing suicide, they automatically start rumors that it could be because of the school or the work. They didn't even bother thinking that maybe it's because of the family, more specifically, the parents.

I remember how furious and disappointed my parents were. They grieved on and on about how they lost someone who they could depend on for the future they dreamed of. To stop their misery, I told them that I was a Mitchell as well and I was willing to work hard for their future. But it seemed as if I ceased to exist.

So, I vowed to myself that I would work hard even if it meant abandoning my own dream and following what my parents wanted for my sister.

I wanted them to see me as the perfect child that is smart and that they could depend on . . .

And maybe, just maybe, they'll notice that they also have a son.

Garcia.

"The Garcia's? Oh, they're a delightful family. Well, except for the boy. He's weird."

Being called 'weird', honestly hurts. People have the idea of the Garcia's as the wonderful family, the heroic family, well, excluding me. Just because I'm not cute when I try to help like my sisters or I'm not as amazing as my mother or as brave as my father, it already means that I'm not part of the wonderful and heroic family as people called it.

I can help it if I couldn't read or write well enough to pass my teachers standards. I couldn't help it if my mind couldn't fully comprehend any input that anyone tells me right away. I couldn't help it if I do dangerous things after being told to follow rules in a handbook. I can't help it if I'm 'weird'.

My parents say that it could just be a passing phase in my life. They say that at some point, my mind will mature. At times, just to make me feel better, they say that it's just another word for unique and that they're jealous. Jealous of what? Jealous because even the best teachers in the state call me a hopeless case. Jealous because I can't even be a good example to my younger siblings. I can't see why they'd even want to be jealous.

Even if I knew that I am a hopeless case, I'll work harder, no matter how hard it may seem to me.

I want people to see me as someone heroic or at least someone perfectly normal . . .

And maybe, just maybe, people will start accepting me.

Knight.

Sometimes, I'm proud to be a Knight. Sometimes, I don't know if I could take it being a Knight.

Kenneth Knight used to be Minnesota Wild's most prized player. He also used to be the Knight family provider. All before he was taken away because of a drunk driver. Being his son, everyone expects that I have the natural talent my father had. Everyone expects me to represent my father.

My father died when I was young. He never completely taught me how to play hockey. I just taught myself as I grew up. Do you know how hard it is when everyone is expecting to see the best player in the history of Minnesota? Failure is never an option. You should've seen the faces of the people watching our game when I couldn't skate as fast, slam as hard or shoot as accurate as my father.

I'll work hard. Work even harder than anyone. Start focusing more on hockey.

I want people to see that I'm built to be a hockey player, a perfectly built athlete. . .

And maybe, just maybe, people will stop comparing me to my father and my family would be proud of me.

Author's Note: Before I forget, I want to recommend you to PurpleOrchids98 stories. She's kind of new to the BTR Fanfiction fandom and she has a few in her account. She has loads of potential and she's a really nice person. I know because she's my best friend.

So, please review :)