Jack walked slowly down the hall, cringing at every muscular badass passing him by. The perfect females only stared as the albino walked the halls like a deer in headlights.

Just six more days. It is almost over. So close.

But then what? He would only return to China. To spend quality time with his parents.

But Joy and James Spicer were not the most pleasant people in the world.

You were supposed to be a beautiful baby girl, spat his mother.

Everything I've worked for in this life, and I have to leave it to you, cursed his father.

Why couldn't I be lucky like my sister in law and had Megan, I'd be so much happier, sobbed his mother.

You are such a worthless emo faggot, slurred his father in drunk rage.

Jack was the regret of the happiest, cheeriest billionaires in history. And he was their punching bag. Everyone had to have one, right?

Jack sat down in algebra with a bored expression. The boy had an IQ of fucking 226! He didn't need this shit! Jackson Richard, you must have at least one friend, you freak! His mother's nagging and hurtful voice echoed in his head like nails to a chalkboard. That was the opposite of what happened to him. Next period was P.E. and was the worst part of the day. Not that Jack was incapable of physical performance. That certainly wasn't the case. But he had to act that way.

Should James Spicer ever realize that his son was capable of any physical act, he would take great delight in sending him to boot camp.

And there was no way in hell that Jack was going to fucking military school.

I'd sooner suck Hannibal's cock, he thought as his bitch of a teacher droned on about the quadratic equation.

"Spicer," screeched Ms. Lenders, "would you like to recite the equation, you brainless slacker!"

Jack's eyebrows raised with surprise at being addressed. Not in that tone, oh, no. He was used to that from everyone of his teachers. Well, except for Mr. Hall. He was the mechanics teacher. He liked Jack, at least.

"Negative b, plus or minus the square root of of b squared minus 4ac over 2a."

The old woman cursed under her breath.

"Pay attention, Spicer. God knows you cheat. Maybe one day you'll save yourself from that habit."

Jack snorted at her conclusion of his correct answer.

"I've never cheated off of anyone, Ms. Lenders. I assure you, I'm just that smart, okay!?" 'Oohs' and 'Ahhs' filled the classroom at Jack's smart mouth.

Ms. Lender walked over to the red-headed albino and slammed her hands on his desk. Ms. Lenders was sixty-three years old. The overweight woman wore enough make-up to be classified as a clown, and if she had any sense of balance, she might be classified as a rodeo clown with such a mangled looking face. She wore an old-styled dress too modest for a nun. Her blonde, stringy hair went every which way and her breath smelled like tuna and almonds.

"Repeat that, boy..." she growled.

"What? Is it a crime to tell you that I'm pretty damn smart?"

A conjoined gasp filled the classroom as the teacher gaped and breathed out, causing her breath to float Jack's face. There was only one other crotchety old lady/ghost thing that's breath was worse than hers.

Jack coughed and wheezed as he pulled back from the woman.

But she only got closer to his face.

"May He have mercy on your soul! Speaking to your teacher that way!"

Jack coughed again and had his Led Zeppelin T-shirt yanked by the collar by a big, sweaty hand. Ms. Lenders came nose to nose with him and sneered:

"Principal's office."

"Sure," said Jack with a grin as he got up, " just letting you know, too, Ms. L. : Someone out there wants you to lend yourself to them for a while, but it sure as hell fire ain't me!"

The entire cackled with laughter as Jacked strutted out the door. No one was going to save Jack from his punishment. He knew that. But the beating and screaming that came with it was becoming stale. Jack was going to be eighteen in two months and he could take the abuse a little longer.

Then, it was world domination time! Then, he could be everything he ever wanted to be! So soon.

Jack sat down next to a punk chick, a freshman. Jack had been around her when all the freaks of the school clumped together at lunch to keep the odds down on getting beat up. This school really had no class whatsoever. Even girls, freshman girls, were beat up for being who they were. No, Jack came to the conclusion that his clique was no longer very unique. No, there was nothing wrong with them. But they weren't unique. He took a look at the girl again, Alice, if he remembered correctly. Her hair was dyed a sky blue with white streaks running through the choppy, yet silky locks. Her oval shaped face carried no dimple nor freckle. Her large, owl-like eyes were an emerald green that sparkled with resilience and spunk. Her lips were a deep red as she bit down on them. He looked back to her right eye and focused on the black and blue bruising around it. She diamond stud in her nose and .14 gauges in her ears. Above the gauges were sugar skulls and then other various studs running up her ears. Her shirt was a sleeveless neon green tube top with a black leather corset ending right beneath an ample chest. Her near ivory skin was littered with black tattooing, moving in nearly melodic patterns down her arms. Crosses, angel wings, musical notes, floral patterns, and quotes of songs ran like rivers. She wore cloud-like skinny jeans with black leather combat boots ending at her knee.

Jack still kept his eyes on her injury and, oddly, felt rage about it.

Not because his clique had been offended, not that.

But the fact that someone was hurt for for being who they were.

This confused him. He had never cared about that before.

"Hey," said a voice that still sounded adolescent.

Jack jumped a little and like the anti-social genius he was, said nothing.

"What did you expect?" she wondered, "You've bee starin' long enough."

"Sorry," mumbled the albino, quickly averting his eyes from the girl.

"Oh, no! That's...that's okay, man. Just thought I might start a conversation with ya...Joe, right?"

"Heh...Jack. Alice, right?"

"Psh...it's Angelina DeLae to you."

"Good one...now what do you go by," said Jack, snickering.

"Angel."

"How'd you get the tattoos? You're...what, fifteen?"

"And a half, thanks. Self done...I used to cut, but...I realized I wanted to be something...beautiful, so...yeah..." Angel bowed her head as she suddenly feeling too open.

"Hey," said Jack, grabbing her chin and turning her head up, "I've been there, too. It's okay."

He slipped off his leather to reveal two surprises:

Pale pink scars running from his elbow to his shoulder and strong, truly muscular arms from years of building and creating.

"Oh," whispered the awkward girl, running her finger tips over the now feathery scars.

"Yeah," he conceded, "I just wish I were as creative as you."

"...I could do something for you," she said.

"That'd be pretty cool, actually. Here..."

Jack slipped out a piece of paper and wrote down his address on it and gave it to the girl.

"Meet me up there tonight. No parents, just servants. And, I might just show you my lab if you want."

"Yeah," said Angel, "I have no plans. This is probably the last day of school for me."

"You, too? I called my teacher a whore and and pedo. What'd you do?"

Angel laughed with slightly cruel glee. "A cheerleader picked a fight with me," she said, pointing to her eye, "The bitch blindsided me, but I still won."

Jack laughed then sighed as he heard his name called.

"Until tonight, Lady DeLae."

"My pleasure, Monsieur Spicer."

Jack laughed again and disappeared behind the principal's door.

A/N: So, I decided to do my Jack fic. Yay! I gave Jack a friend!

Review me and tell me how I'm doing. I don't know how long it's going to be but it's certainly not over yet!