I do not own Heroes, despite this being written within an hour of me finishing the finale. Foosha.
So... yeah.
My name is Micah. I can talk to machines. They tell me what's going on and I in turn can ask them to do things for me. This means that I don't really talk to girls, ever. I have no need. If I've got a computer with me, everything's cool.
Well, I talk to one, not including my mom. Moms don't count. I talk to one girl, other than my mom. No one else. I can't help it. She sort of lives down the hallway from me.
It was a little strange at first when we moved to Minnesota, just my parents, me and her. The old lady with the snooty temper that cried a lot about the flying guy gave us new names and money to start over. As we moved into the St. Paul suburban home, we became the Wayne family. Mom and Dad were supposedly only married for two months when they decided to move. I had been raised by my dad and she was raised by my mom. That was the story we were told to tell people when they asked. We came from Kalamazoo and there were even fake school records for me and for her.
"Julian!" calls my mom. "You're going to be late for school!"
Oh, I hate my new name. It doesn't fit me at all.
"Coming!" I shout. Quickly, I grab my stuff from around my room. I cram into my bag a laptop, some comic books and a couple of art supplies. Swinging open the door, I come within inches of slamming right into her. I'm sure that she saw my face turn a little red. She scared me!
"You coming Julian?" she asks.
"Don't call me that," I grumble, shifting past her. She's not my sister, no matter how much my parents want me to pretend.
"You call me Rachel."
Kryptonite! She got me!
"You look like a Rachel," I respond. That was weak. I could hear my computer laughing at me.
"Yeah, right."
So I only talk to one girl. She lives down the hall and we're supposed to share a bathroom and a last name. I don't know why she was sent with us. I think she hates me.
I get hit in the back of the head with something that I am sure is girly, fluffy and pink and immediately decide that yeah, she does hate me.
Rats.