A/N: So here's my first story, a little spin on Romeo and Juliet in the modern world. I'm kind of winging it at this point, but we'll see how it goes...R&R and tell me what you think!

Lucy

Some people, I thought to myself as I sat up in bed one dreary November morning, are born knowing how to be happy. I am most definitely not one of them.

I rubbed my eyes and let out a soft moan as my alarm beeped incessantly. I shut it off and twiddled the blinds to look out the window. From twenty-five stories up, the city was beautiful--a sight that never ceased to impress me, no matter how long I'd lived here. Snowflakes were twirling gently down from the still-dark sky, which meant my walk to school today would be quite unpleasant. I mustered the willpower to rise from my bed and traipse into my bathroom. Technically, I suppose it would be called "the" bathroom--the only other one was in the master suite. The only other people living in my condo were my parents, however, who used the master suite, so the bathroom ergo became mine.

I got ready for school as I did every other morning, not knowing that today would be the day that changed my life--well, the second day that changed my life. I was equally unaware that I was about to fall completely in love, despite whatever inner demons I'd have to battle before I fully trusted another human being. Primping was exhausting and took nearly an hour. This may seem ridiculous, but I attended a small, ritzy Catholic school in the Chicago loop. Everyone was glamorous and it was difficult to keep up. I spent an inordinate amount of money on hair products and makeup from Sephora, but it was worth it--especially when it came to my hair. Straight, falling just past my shoulders, and dark brown with a tint of auburn, I knew it was better than most of the other girls my age had. I parted it on the side and flat-ironed it, giving it more volume on top, and it was my absolute pride and joy. So maybe I didn't have a bag or shoes or even grades as fabulous as everyone else--at least I had my hair.

The sun was starting to come up as I grabbed a Pop-Tart and headed out the door. My parents weren't home--they were really busy planning for a banquet my family was having later that week, a huge banquet that, it seemed, half of Chicago was invited to. It was cold outside, as I had suspected, and the seven blocks to my school were highly unpleasant. It was fun to walk past some fancy stores on my way over, but dodging the homeless people? Not so much. Especially for me--I was afraid of homeless people. Not to discriminate or anything...I have my reasons.

My best friend Christina greeted me there. "Hey girl," she said, giving me a high-five. "Wow, I love your coat. Is it new?"

"Yeah, actually," I answered, glancing down at my black-and-white houndstooth pea coat. I had forgotten that I had bought it two days ago and hadn't seen Christina since then. "Thanks."

"It's super cool." This was one of the things I loved about Christina--that, and her wicked sense of humor. I suspected she could have been much more popular than the two of us were if she hadn't been so different. She was slightly chubby, had mild acne, and didn't wear makeup or even play with her hair much. She wore whatever clothes looked cute when we went shopping, rather than following the latest trends. She was more into science and history than hair, fashion, and pop culture, all of which added up to make her strange. Although I wasn't too much like her, I thought there was something to be said for remaining different even at a cutthroat school like ours. To me, it menat she was cooler than a lot of other girls.

My other best friend chose that moment to race up to us. "Heyyyy," cooed Adam in a nasal voice, his long purple scarf flying about behind him. "What up, bitches?"

"Adam!" I gave him a hug. The petite kid came up to about my ears. "I love you."

"I know, I know, no need to tell me." He slapped Christina a high-five. "And may I just say that the two of you ladies look extra fabulous today. Christina, I am absoutely gaga over that necklace. It is so fab."

"Oh my God, Adam," she laughed. "You are the reason there are homophobes in this world."

"Yes, and the bitches need to die!" It was true that Adam was a walking cliche--petite, obsessed with fashion, over-groomed blonde hair, and even a touch of eyeliner. Still, I couldn't get enough of the kid. "Okay, I gotta split like a banana, but I'll be back." He dashed off.

"Split like a banana?" Christina raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever. It's Adam." I smiled. Wow--first smile since, like, what? Saturday? Not to be emo or depressive, I thought to myself--sure, I was feeling sorry for myself, but at least I wasn't dragging anyone else into it, right? So I wasn't being too horrible, was I?

Whatever. I went into the school and took my seat in my homeroom. Today was shaping up to be another boring Monday.

Something interesting did happen that day, though-- in the hallways after sixth period. A couple of rich jock guys--as much as I hate to stereotype, the jock guys always seemed to be exceptionally rich--got into a fight with two of what some bitch girls called Peasants. These were the kids on scholarship, who all seem to know each other, and all band together. Their apparent leader was this kid named Brian Montana, who was tall and kind of hot. Anyway, Brian seemed to have gotten into a shove contest with Paul Jameson, the most popular guy in the school. Paul and I had an awkward relationship based on the fact that our parents were best friends. That meant we saw each other quite a bit outside of school, and we always managed to have polite conversations--he was a pretty likable guy. Inside school, however, we didn't talk. I simply wasn't popular enough.

"You stay the hell away from me, bro," Paul yelled threateningly, shaking his finger at Brian.

"Shut up, Jameson," Brian yelled back. "You watch yourself."

Paul looked at him as though scandalized. He also seemed majorly pissed. A large crowd had now gathered, watching in anticipation.

Paul marched right up to Brian, pausing less than an inch away from his face. They were almost exactly the same height.

"I think," he said in a low, threatening voice, "that you had better stand aside."

Brian let out a mirthless laugh. "What are you gonna do to me, Jameson? What are you gonna do?"

Jameson pressed up closer. "Do you really want to find out?"

Brian looked at him. A tense silence filled the air, punctuated by a couple of girls whispering. A moment passed, until Brian seemed to decide that the fight wasn't worth it. He raised one eyebrow, and with a chuckle, he turned and walked away.

Paul stood for a moment longer, fuming, until his girlfriend, Emily, came up and started talking to him softly.

"That was weird," my friend Lizzie commented.

"I know, right?" I gazed at Brian Montana and a couple of his friends. What could have sparked a fight like that?

"They just hate each other," Lizzie said, as though she had read my mind.

I looked over at her. "Yeah, I guess they do. It's so stupid. Why?"

"I have no idea." She laughed. "Whatever. I've got to go to trig. See ya."

"Bye," I said a bit absently. I supposed it had just been a casual thing. After all, Paul was known for his hot temper, charming though he was. When two guys hated each other that much, especially when someone as volatile as Paul was involved, bad things were bound to happen. I looked at Brian and his group for a moment longer, then hiked my backpack over my shoulder and walked to English.

Griffin

When Brian got home, he was pissed.

"Paul Jameson," he began, "that creep, he's such an asshole!"

"Why?" I asked. "What happened?"

"I mentioned something about the Coppola banquet and he flipped out. He's all, 'You're not welcome there, go back to where you came from!' Like we're, I dunno, drug dealers or something, just because we don't live in a fancy condo on Michigan Avenue!" He sat down, tense, cracking his knuckles.

"He's a jerk. Ignore him," I reasoned. I hadn't been feeling too well lately, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with Brian. Usually, he was pretty laid-back, and it was rare that something got him this riled up. Still, I had other things than the moods of my twin brother on my mind.

With his almost-psychic twin perception, he seemed to pick up on this. "Hey, dude. What's up?"

"What do you mean?" I avoided his eyes.

"You seem kinda quiet. Something wrong?"

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, toying with the idea of keeping my mouth shut. Nah, it was pointless. Brian would know.

I let out a long sigh. "It's--I dunno, man. There's this girl--"

"Girl?" His interest was piqued. "Who is she? Is she hot?"

"Hot?" I snorted. "Yeah, she's hot as hell. She's like, the hottest girl I've ever seen, no joke."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'm fascinated. Tell me more, please."

I didn't want to confess who it was that I was really interested in. Although I wasn't smart enough to get into the same fancy school as Brian, I knew a lot of the people who went there, including the girls. To guys like me, they were almost completely unattainable. That was my major problem.

"I dunno, man. She's hot...but I can't get with her."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because..." I couldn't meet his eyes. "I'm not good enough for her. Well, not rich enough, I should say."

"Oh." He slapped my back. "She's not the only chick out there, you know. Go for someone else."

"I can't." The words were out before I could stop them.

"Why not?"

I thought hard before choosing my words. "Because...I think I'm...in love with her." Of course, I still sounded like an idiot.

Brian laughed at me then. He laughed for a long time, too. "Okay, okay, dude, dude. We gotta get you out of this. Who is the girl?"

I figured that there was no point in holding back now. The damage was done. "Her name is...is Mary Kate. Davidson, I think."

He laughed harder now. "Mary Kate Davidson? Dude, are you serious?"

"Okay, can you knock it off?" The laughing was starting to bother me. I didn't appreciate being mocked after pouring my heart out, embarrassingly, to my brother.

"Okay, but in all seriousness, you know that she's pretty much royalty. The girl is gonna marry some guy with a huge trust fund and you'll be left with a middle-class, slightly less hot girl."

"Yes, I know that."

"So there's no hope for you."

"Yes," I said testily, "I know that." I sighed. "That's the part that's really bothering me. I mean, like, I really want to be with her. In a way I've never wanted to be with anyone before. It's weird, dude, but...I really like her, a lot. And she's never even spoken to me."

Brian hesitated, looking at me sympathetically. "Griff...how about this. Friday night is the Coppola banquet. It's at this huge, fancy hotel, and pretty much everyone at St. Theresa's is gonna be there. We'll see Mary Kate, she'll reject you like the stuck-up snob she is, and then you'll find a new girl because all the hot Catholic school girls will be there, too. You'll be all better. Deal?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You got invited to that?"

"Everyone got invited to that. Trust me." He slapped my back again. "I know exactly how to handle your poor, broken heart."

I threw my empty soda can at him and walked out of the room.

"Don't go all PMS-y on me," he called after me, and I smiled in spite of myself.