Alright, his is the first thing I've posted on fanfic. This is kinda the introductory chapter so you may find it a little slow paced, but hopefully the next chapter will be more intriguing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or anything to do with it... Except some trading cards.

"Mel, please sit up and pay attention."

Well those were the words I heard at least a million times a day. Usually without the please. That's all the attention I ever got in school. Yup, there nothing quite like being extra ordinary. Not extraordinary but ordinary, the kind of ordinary where people don't even see you, unless you actually walk up to them. The kind of ordinary where nobody notices you unless someone of importance spills their lunch on you in the cafeteria. I didn't even get bullied, I was always the kind of girl that was just there, and known as, 'some kid.'

I wasn't talented at anything, except my knack for language, which wasn't very helpful in life. It's not like I was bad at anything, just not overly good at anything. Just a wallflower.

My day was just like any other. Boring. Currently I was sitting in class, or rather slumped in class, entertaining myself by blowing a strand of hair that insisted on hanging in front of my face, and ignoring the teachers most recent command.

I glanced over at the window, and sighed. It was too nice out to be sitting in a boring old school, but I was stuck here, just like everyone else. Which sucked. I began to daydream, drowning out what the teacher was saying, and before I knew it I was drifting off to sleep.

A sharp crack startled me back to the waking world. "Melanie Quinn! Do you think the back of your eyelids are more interesting then my lesson?" The teacher loomed down on me, scowling fiercely.

I blushed, and I got that nervous tingling you get in your stomach which only ever comes when anticipation occurs. I was anticipating a good punishment. I tried to hide my embarrassment. "No, sir, not at all."

"Then I suggest you start to prove it. Detention after school."

A few snickers followed the teachers statement. I blushed, slumped lower in my seat, and twisted a strand of my black hair around my finger. A habit that I did when I was upset about something, in this case, detention. For a few weeks now, I'd been having nightmares about my father who had died years ago. I thought I'd gotten over his death. Consciously, I was, but subconsciously, well, apparently not. In my dream, my father was always trying to tell me something, something important, but he was speaking in a language I didn't understand. Then he'd disappear into a swirl of shadows. I'd shout and call for him, but could never find him. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, and would only sleep fitfully for the rest of the night. I was exhausted, and could only hope the dream would soon go away.

Another thing that upset me was that I'd had plans to finish a history assignment with my partner after school today. Now I was gonna have to cancel on her, making me feel worse.

For the rest of class I looked straight a head and tried to pay attention. In what seemed like forever the lunch bell finally rang, signalling the end of class. I couldn't have been more grateful. Everyone stood up in a rush, slamming their binders shut in the process.

I too, hurriedly did the same, and headed for the door with everyone else. On my way out somebody bumped into me, and my books went flying all over the place. I took a second, looked at the roof and sighed, before bending down to pick up what I'd dropped.

"Here you go."

I looked up, startled. A short, spiky haired, boy, was standing in front of me, holding out some of my papers that had escaped me. I knew who it was. Yugi Moto had been in my class for several years now. He wasn't popular, but wasn't unpopular either. He was the in between kind, had several friends, and was generally well liked throughout the school. Despite his wild hair, and the punk leather look he wore, he still looked rather innocent. Maybe he wore the leather to show there was more to him then met the eye.

"Umm... Thanks." I said, and took the papers he was holding out to me. I stood up.

"Hey, sorry you got detention." He looked genuinely sorry when he said it.

I shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. I wasn't good at talking to people, which is why I stayed to myself. If my hands hadn't been full, I would probably be twisting hair around my finger like crazy by now.

"Yeah, oh well." I said lamely. I wish I could have said something more inventive, or even appreciative like...well I didn't really know.

"Anyway, see you." And with that Yugi turned and headed out the door. I stood there for a moment, and headed out the door as well, with the last few stragglers.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and in what seemed like a millennia I was on my way home. The bright sunshine cast its glow on the city of Domino. The traffic whizzed by, and the light breeze was enough to take the edge off the heat. Slowly I trudged my way home. It was about five-o-clock, and I was grumbling under my breath about having to do detention. Nearly two hours of mopping floors, had left me tired, and in a fairly negative mood. I still felt bad about cancelling on my history partner leaving her to finish the project on her own. The only good thing that had happened was that I didn't have a lot of homework to flounder through for the rest of the evening.

I turned on to my street, still shuffling along, and saw an unusual car parked in my driveway. Not that it was a surprise. Seeing fancy sports cars in front of my large mansion was not all that uncommon. My mother worked for a popular magazine as a writer/reporter and was quite good at a her job. There were always models, photographers, actors, coworkers, and journalists at the house. More often then not, I avoided them. I wasn't like them. They always were wearing designer labels, prancing about in shoes that were probably more expensive then most people paid for shoes in 10 years, carrying purses worth more then reason, and driving cars that were the best money could buy. Then there was me, the wallflower. Cotton t-shirts for $15, and plastic jewellery from the dollar store. And despite being driving age, no car at all.

I admired the car as I passed it. It was a sleek black Porsche GT2. Real leather covered the seats and it had a perfect paint job, not a scratch on it. It was a subtle combination. For someone with an untrained eye it was a fancy car, but pretty un-noticeable with such a plain colour, hiding its true power. It was the fastest road going 911 GT2 ever released to the public, and able to hit a speed of 97km/h in 3.6 seconds, and has a top speed of 320km/h. It truly was a force to be reckoned with. I couldn't help but admire it. I stood back a bit, it case I drooled on it, breathed on it, or touched it.

The door to my house opened, and my moms laughter caught my attention. I turned my head from the car to see her step out of the house with a man I'd never seen before. He was about six feet, had a athletic build, long sandy brown hair hung down to his shoulders, and very light blue eyes. He wore a neatly trimmed, but greying van dyke beard. He had completed his look with a pair of jeans, and a grey jacket over a a white collared shirt with the top few buttons left open.

He noticed me before my mother. He looked confused, probably wondering what a very unstylish teenager was doing standing next to his car, and in front of such a upper class house.

My mother noticed the mans attention was no longer on her, and she looked my way as well. For some reason I felt uncomfortable, as though I was intruding on something. I shifted from foot to foot. "Umm hey mom." I shouldered my bag, and walked up to the front step.

"Mel! Welcome home! Well, not in the sense that you've been gone long, well longer then usual, but still not long in the sense do a few days..." She seemed flustered and kept glancing at the man standing on the step with her. "...just that you were longer then it usually takes..."

"Mom." I said, hiding how embarrassed I was at her, "I had detention after school, that's all. Sorry."

"Mel! What happened? This is the third incident time in the last two weeks!" I winced at the sound of her yelling. It was true. I was so tired in the mornings, I was late for school one day, and had missed a exam that was worth twenty five percent of my grade. It required a doctors note for an allowance to miss the test, of which I hadn't had. Mom had had to beg and plead for a chance for me to write it. Then a few days later, I hadn't done an assignment because I had come home and fallen asleep, and now there was this.

"Melanie Anne Quinn, what has gotten into you? First missing that test, and then the assignment, and now getting detention!"

I stood there taking the hits. They were all true. I shuffled my shoes, and looked at the spot above my mom's shoulder.

Then a polite, "Excuse me?" Interrupted my mother's tirade. It appeared she had forgotten about her guest. "Perhaps, Caroline, I should be leaving. It seems" he inserted a little cough and continued, "Your daughter and you..." He trailed off.

"Oh, yes, sorry. It was nice seeing you John."

John? Caroline? Why were they on a first name basis? Who was John anyway? I looked at him curiously as he went over to his Porsche. He got in and started the car. I couldn't help noticing that it made hardly any noise, the engine only making a low hum, before it backed out of the driveway, any raced away.

There was a moment of silence before my mother let out a long sigh. I looked at her. My mother was a slim, blond woman with deep brown eyes, and skin smooth as silk. She would have looked like a goddess in a garbage bag with water bottles strapped to her feet. She was also my best friend. She took a seat on the hanging love seat by the door. I sat down next to her, throwing my bag down next to me.

"What was it this time?" Her voice was gentle but stern. At least she wasn't really mad at me. Other wise shes be yelling again.

Despite the feeling that my stomach was going to jump out of my mouth with nervousness, I looked her straight in the eye. "I fell asleep in class."

"Are you alright? It's obvious your not sleeping well anymore. You look so tired all the time, and these incidents at school seem to becoming more frequent as a result." She glanced at me and quickly away again. There was something else.

"What? If there's something else you may as well spit it out" I knew mom to well. She was a master of deception when it come to work, but to me, she was an open book.

She let out a nervous giggle. "You know me to well. I'm going to have to be more careful around you."

I quirked an eyebrow at her, letting her know she wasn't going to be let off that easy.

"Alright, alright! I know you're not exactly popular at school..." I snorted, but let her continue, "so I just don't want you making wrong choices, and hanging out with the wrong crowd to make friends, because its not worth it."

Laughter filled me. This was what my mom thought I was sleeping badly for? That I was with the wrong crowd and staying out late at night? I though I'd make it clear how much I disapproved of such things, and had chosen to pick this...this reason for my insomnia.

"Mom, really? You think I'm hanging out with the wrong crowd? After all the times I've told you people like that will probably go no where in life. Jeez, those kids have been higher then the Kaiba Corp building." I shook my head, the rogue strand of hair fell back in front of my face.

My mother looked at me hard, and I met her gaze. She knew when I was telling a lie or not, she had her ways. Seeming satisfied that I was telling the truth, she said, "I just am worried is all. This never used to happen, maybe I should take you to a doctor so you can get sleeping pills or something."

"No!" I said quickly.

Mom looked at me curiously.

"I mean, I don't think that's the problem. It's probably just a thing. Give it a bit and it'll probably go away." Part of me hoped it was the truth, and the dream would go away. Another part of me told me it was something important, and not to tell my mother the truth. I wasn't telling a lie exactly, but I certainly wasn't telling the truth.

Again my mother considered me. "Okay, but you have two weeks for it to 'go away' then you have to see a doctor." She was using her mom voice on me. There was no way to argue with her over this. So I agreed.

Then on to brighter subjects she said, "So how was school?"

I grinned. This was why I loved my mom. She cared and could be a mom when she had to, even though I didn't necessarily like it, or she could be the friendly fun mom.

"Oh the usual. You know, dysfunctional hormonal teenagers trying to pretend they are cool by doing something totally childish."

"Including yourself then I imagine?" Mom questioned.

"Me do something that stands out? Seriously?" I said it humorously, but it was also the truth.

"Well if you did something with your hair, and wore a little eye liner to bring out the colour of you eyes, I'm sure you could make quite the impression."

We talked about this a lot. Mom was always trying to get me to step out a bit, do something different, but the truth was that I was afraid. I was afraid of what others would think of me, and that standing out would give them more reason to judge me.

I'd never told my mother any of this, though she knew it. It was the silent communication between us. It was something never openly spoke of.

I made my usual response or excuse rather to her suggestion. "What, bow to the standards of society. Nah."

She sighed, shook her head and was about to say something else, when her cell rang. She took it out of her pocket and looked at it. "It's Eddie." Eddie was her boss, and every time he called my mom was caught up in details about the magazine for hours sometimes. "I bought chocolate mint ice cream, it's in the freezer if you want some, okay?"

I nodded.

My mom answered the phone. "Hey, Eddie..." She got up and wandered back into the house.

I stood up, and turned to grab my book bag, and I saw it. It must've been the way I turned for me to notice it, because otherwise it would have been quite hard to see. An envelope was wedged between the two cushions of the love seat. I pulled it out. The paper was slightly crumpled, but otherwise untouched. The name on the front was, Peter Quinn.

My father.

I have a idea for the next part, but suggestions will be considered. As with any author, constructive criticism would be appreciated.

Have a super special awesome day.