Hiya, this is a story about me. My real name is Sarah Lovell and I love Darren Shan books. So I guess I'm now Darren Shan. Plus what I say about me it the truth in the story. Now that i think about it, maybe my life isn't so boring after all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Darren Shan stuff.

~Sarah~

I was sitting in French class, trying my best to listen to my most hated language of them all. But my attention was drawn into a pencil that a person in front of me was waving.

See I have ADHD, which I'm never real ashamed about; I have a better imagination then most others. I'm my own person as my dad would say and if there was a colon of me I probably beat myself up for amusement.

I snickered out loud to the site of me getting beaten up by myself. Ms. Gardner shot her head around and gave me another one of her evil glares from under her glasses. Whenever my eyes weren't focus on her or the board I'd always regret it.

Whatever she was saying in French, most likely how I never paid attention in class meaning my grades were slipping. I didn't catch her gibberish, as if I cared whatever the Hell she was saying. It would be amazing if I went to school one day and found her dead lifeless body under her desk.

"Sarah, are you even paying attention?" She barked making me snap out of another trace. "Or do I have to send you to the 3D."

My lips drew thin, I've never been to the 3D before and I didn't want to start now. The 3D is detention in our school, I've only seen it a couple of times. Only to bail Steve Leopard out, my best friend.

His real last name was Leonard, but everyone called him Steve Leopard. And not just because the names sound alike. Steve used to be what my mom calls "a wild child." He'd raise the Hell, and all teachers feared and despised him. He's been to the 3D more then I could keep track.

In the 3D you sit behind a desk that covers you from seeing any one in silences. That didn't scare me; it was the thought of my parents finding out I'd done something bad.

"Yes ma'am, I always had." I lied. All my classmate's eyes were on me making me feel slightly uncomfortable.

Ms. Gardner stepped back over to the board and explained the new French term. I sighed and gave a relief glance at Steve. Steve flashed his charming smile then slouched in his chair. He gave a quick pointed to the clock above the door. Half smiling at the time then him, I knew class would soon end. Finishing off the last period so we could head out to lunch.

When the bell rang I darted for the door. With my slender body making it easy to slip by anyone. But I didn't get too far.

I stopped dead in my tracks when Ms. Gardner called my name out coldly. I turned to face her, her auburn hair and freckled face. The face I hated, and hate is a powerful word.

A lumped formed in my throat, as I was alone in class with my most hated teacher of all. Everyone was out getting a head start on lunch. Lucky them, they didn't have to feel tense while standing in front of a teacher who wished to see you dead in the next second. Well Steve was obviously the first she wanted dead, but I'd say we make a pretty close tie.

"Miss. Lovell, I'd like a word with you." She spoke through her teeth, making it all the more nerve racking.

"Look I'm terrible sorry for never paying attention in class, but you know I have ADHD." I complained, trying to save my skinny ass.

"You're not the only student in the class with ADHD, and all the other students who have ADHD pay a lot more attention then you do!" She spattered. "You are the most inbehave student I've ever had in my teaching years. If you don't start paying attention I'll have to call your parent." I sigh, can this day get any worse.

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry I'll do better, I promise." I said truly.

After I met up with Steve in the cafeteria. And after that discussion with Ms. Gardner I was no longer hungry.

"Cheer up Sarah, don't listen to that old hag." Steve insisted. I sighed then half smiled.

"Guess your right."

"Sure as Hell I am." we both laughed attracting everyone attention to be on us. "Lets go find the others and play soccer." Steve grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out of the cafeteria.

He released his grip around my wrist when we made it out over by the soccer field.

"I going to tear up the field tonight." I said while rubbing my red wrist.

"Only if you can beat me first." Steve smiled and rapped his arms around my shoulder.

He was much taller then me, and towered over me. As did the rest of the teenagers. His moppy blond hair that almost was the color white. And his mercury blue eyes over powered my swamp green ones. I was slightly jealously of not being nearly good looking as Steve. All the girls dropped to their knees and practically kissed his skater shoes. I would rather guys doing that to me but I some how repeal them.

Sighing mentally at my appearance, my sunlit brown hair that hung low hiding my left eyes. My in tier head was streaked with blonde and I had a stupid cowlick. I developed slower then normal women did, and had more of a boyish figure. I wore glasses and had braces, and never had a boyfriend in my life.

Steve elbowed my rips gently and pointed out far into the field.

I now became aware of Sammy-son, and More-More kicking around a soccer ball. Alan and Tommy, their boyfriends were against them, trying to steal the ball from underneath their feet.

I was lucky to have so many friends. We must have been the weirdest six friends in the world. Even thought they were all better looking then me. I shoved that thought out of my head.

Steve and I asked if it would be all right if we joined. There were happy to have more players.

"Hey Sar-bear. We need you as midfield, will you play?" More-More asked. Her really name is Morgan, and Sammy-son's is Samara.

"Yeah! I'm taking over this field! All bow down to me, as I dominate the boys!" I shouted and ran out into the field. Every one of the players laughed or groaned.

I made my start and scored two goals inside a minute. I always had the need for speed. My legs and arms were pumping getting my juices flowing. Nobody could catch me unless they were Olympic cross-country racers. I images myself as Olympic cross-country racers feeling the wind whipped around my face. The pressure I'd receive and cheering fans chanting my name.

"Sar-Bear snap out of it!" Sammy-son ordered.

I shock my head washing away the trace as my body tripped over someone sitting. I was off the field, and my brain shock as my body collided with the ground.

Scrambling up I faced Jamie the girl in my math class. She's a quiet type, always obeying the rules. Another names for her would be teachers pet.

"Oh gees Louise I'm so sorry." I apologize, picking her book and gave it back to her. Her face was red from embarrassment, mine wasn't. It takes a lot more to embarrass me.

"That's fine." she groaned. I heard laughter behind my back. My classmates were amused by my lack of focus. I groaned in annoyances at the people. Jamie stumbled away before I could say another word.

The game was cut short, due to the bell ringing. The girls had won only cuz Alan is the worst soccer player out of all of us, not to be rude and all.

As Steve and I were leaving the field Alan ran towards us red face and panting.

"Look what I found!" Alan yelled waving a soggy piece of paper around under our noses.

"What is it?" I asked curiously, trying to grab it.

"It's-," Alan began, but stopped when Mr. Aresnault shout at us.

"You three! Inside." he roared.

"We're coming, Mr. Aresnault!" Steve roared back.

Steve had a special spot in Mr. Aresnault's heart that the rest of us couldn't match. Sometimes he's brilliant in class and gets everything right, while other times he can't even spell his own name. Mr. Aresnault says he's somewhat of an idiot savant, which means he's a stupid genius!

Anyway, even though he's Mr. Aresnault's pet, not even Steve can get away with showing up late for class. And whatever Alan had, it would have to wait. We trudged back to class, sweaty and tired after the game and began our next lesson.

The dreadful class of science was so boring I started to fall asleep. Both of my parents struggled with science, but I always try to pay close attention and learn what is given. Since I want to be a dentist, yes a dentist.

My teacher, Mr. Aresnault, is pretty decent. We were studying about bacteria. I wasn't too excited about it but enjoyed people getting grosses out. Mr. Aresnault always runs a tight ship - his classes are fun but we always come out having learnt something knew.

Alan must have gotten bored too cuz he started passing notes. I wrote back carefully not wanting to be caught. Asking to see the mysterious piece of paper he'd bought in. He refused at first to passing it around, but I kept sending notes and finally he gave in.

More-More sits just two seats away over from him, and being his girlfriend she got to see it first. She opened it up and began studying it. Her face lit up while she was reading and her jaw slowly dropped. When it was passed onto me, I scanned it three times, I soon saw why.

It was a flyer, an advertising pamphlet for some sort of traveling cirque. There was a picture of a wolf's head at top. And its mouth was open and saliva was dripping from its teeth. At the bottom were pictures of spiders and snakes, they look vicious too. Just beneath the wolf, in big red capital letters were the words:

CIRQUE DU FREAK

FOR ONE WEEK ONLY - CIRQUE DU FREAK!

SEE:

SIVA AND SEERSA - THE TWISTING TWINS! THE SNAKE BOY! THE WOLF MAN! GERTHA TEETH! LARTEN CREPSLEY AND HIS PERFORMING SPIDER MADAM OCTA!

ALEXANDER RIBS! THE BEARDED LADY! HANS HANDS! RHAMUS TWOBELLIES - WORLD'S FATTEST MAN!

Beneath all that was an address where you could buy tickets and find out where the show was playing. And right at the bottom, just above the pictures of the spider:

NOT FOR THE FAINTHEARTED! SOME RESTRICTION APPLY!

"Cirque Du Freak?" I muttered softly to myself. I knew it was French and it was obviously it meant Circus of freaks no doubt about it. It's a freak show, I've only heard about these things but never saw one before.

I read the flyer for another time, immersed in the drawings and descriptions of the performers. In fact, I was so immersed, I forgot about Mr. Aresnault. I only remember him when the room went silent. Mr. Aresnault wasn't at the front of the classroom, and if he were out the student definitely wouldn't be silent.

"What is this?" Mr. Aresnault snapped.

"OH MY GOD!" I yelped at Mr. Aresnault voice startling me. Everyone pointed and laughed, I was slightly embarrassed but shook it off.

"It's an advertisement, sir." I answered as he snatched into out of my grasp.

"Where'd you get it?" he asked. He looked really angry. I'd never seen him so worked up before. "Where. Did. You. Get. It?" he asked again. I bit my lip nervously. I didn't know how to answer. I wasn't going to tell on Alan, I couldn't do that to a friend. But luckily Steve had stepped in.

"Mr. Aresnault, it's mine." he said.

"Yours?" Mr. Aresnault blinked a few times.

"I found it near the bus stop, sir." Steve said. "An old hag threw it away. It looked interesting so I picked it up. I was going to ask you about it later, at the end of the class."

"Oh." Mr. Aresnault said plainly. "That's different. Nothing wrong with an inquisitive mind." Mr. Aresnault took a thumbtack a stuck in on the bulletin board.

"Long ago." he began, while tapping the flyer with a pencil. "There use to be real freaks shows. Greedy con men crammed malformed people in cages. Say a person with three arms or two noses; somebody ever short or tall. The con men put these poor people - who were no different from you or me, except looks - on display and called them freaks. They charged the public to stare at them, and invited them to laugh and tease. They treated the so-called freaks like animals. Paid them little, beat them, dress them in rags, never allow them to wash."

"That's cruel!" Sammy-son yelled.

"Yes." Mr. Aresnault agreed. "Freak shows were cruel, monstrous creations. That's why I got angry when I saw this." he tore down the flyer. "They were banned years ago, but every often you'll hear a rumor that they're still going strong."

"Do you think the Cirque Du Freak is a real freak show?" I asked, amazed and horrified by it. Mr. Aresnault studied the flyer again, then shock his head.

"I doubt it," he said. "Probably just a cruel hoax still," he added, "if it was real, I hope nobody here is dreaming of going." I gave a guilty face, I was actually thinking of going, and everyone else said no sir.

"Because freak shows were terrible," he said. "They pretended to like proper circus but they were cesspits of evil. Anybody who went to one is just as bad as the people running it."

"You'll have to be really twisted to want to go to one of those," Steve agreed. And then he looked at me, winked then mouthed the words:

"We're going!"

That's the end of chapter, please R&R. I'll update later in life.