Greetings reader!

My grammar is horrible, so I beg you to use your valuable time to flame my (many) mistakes. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Meet Lanna Hasting, a very unstable girl

« And what do you think of this! » I said, very coolly.

I quickly turned around, grab his wrist and slowly started to twist it. Mark what's-his-face cried painfully and I kept switching, feeling the bones cracking under his skin.

"Leave me, witch!" he cried, desperately trying to get off my grip.

"You should apologize, boy. Your momma wouldn't be happy with this sort of behaviour."

"You're even more stupid than ugly" he added, panting, on his knees. I've always enjoyed being that powerful.

"Whatever" I dryly broke his wrist, it made a disgusting noise as it cracked up. He screamed, and I felt a cold smile growing on my lips. I know I was in a serious trouble, but I couldn't help thinking that he deserved it. Okay, maybe it wasn't really right to break someone wrist because he told me I looked like a tramp and my mum wasn't probably better. Usually, I would have let it slipped, but I was already angry and he just pushed me to the breaking point.

"Lanna Hasting, what have you done?" The principal, Mr Martin, burst out of the crowd, looking like he was hesitating between tears or murdering me "in the office, NOW!"

I thought it was probably better if I didn't say anything. I just followed him, students staring at me, and I fought the urge of saying "do you want a picture, or what?" Instead I stood very straight, my eyes challenging them.

When we arrived in the office, he phoned my mother and explained what happened. Then he outfaced me.

"So what did you do this?" he calmly asked. I knew he wasn't that peaceful, by the way he was nervously tipping his fingers.

"Sir, he insulted my family, he didn't…" But he cut me, beginning to yell and well, spitting on my face.

"Oh and that's why you broke his wrist? Have you any sense of measure? You don't hurt someone physically because he badmouthed you! How old are you Miss?"

I tighten my lips.

"Twelve"

"Well, is that what twelve years old girls do? Wound other people? Shouldn't, I don't know, being more about kissing boys than punching them?"

Suddenly, I did really want to try it on in his stupid face.

"Technically, I didn't punch him. And I feel like you have a very retarded image of girls, Sir" I answered, putting all the sarcasm I have in the last word.

Mr Martin started to turn a nice shade of Bordeaux red.

"How dare you… he suffocated, you're fired!"

"Oh, don't worry for this, there are plenty of others… hum I'd say highly incompetent head teachers out there" I gave him a chilly smile and before he could react, grabbed my bag and before I slammed the door I added:

"Have a great day!"

After getting out of the school, I jumped on a bus, abruptly wanting to get out of the city. The weather was beautiful outside. It was the middle of June. You could sense all the Nature vibrating, almost mature, like a beautiful middle aged woman, ready to give and receive. The flawless blue sky and the already hot sun were promises of golden beaches, emerald forests, outdoor activities, etc… I sighed. Maybe, have I been too harsh with Mr Marin. But sometimes, I just couldn't help it. You see, I hate stereotypes. Why should a Goth be always sad? And a girl all about ponies and pink? And, God tell me, why a boy should be more apt to fight than a girl? I smirked, that was deep.

At least I won't have to go to St Patrick Junior anymore. This was good news. I simply hated it there: people were paying way too much attention to appearance. For example, I'm not fashionable. Yes I said it, and I'm not ashamed. Actually, I simply don't get the point of it. How can you want a skirt if you can't even run in it? And high heels? Eew! I mean, it's not even comfortable!

I didn't know where I was going. This was careless, but I was feeling so tired that my dyslexia was even worse than usual. I simply got out of the bus and gazed at the undergrowth about two hundreds feet away. I smiled, until I saw something, very… unusual.

From far away it looked like the biggest, scariest, terribly huge black dog I've ever seen. When it came closer, I knew what was wrong. It had two heads. And both were looking at me like I was some sort of nice smelling steak. I did the most natural thing. I ran.

Thank you for reading it. I'm not a native english speaker, so it's normal I might use weird constructions. Please Review!