Leaves
A/N: This is a major revamp. Character designs, personalities, relationships, and the plot are changing. If you liked He Was, you might not like this one. Warning in advance.
A black-haired, dark-blue eyed girl gazed out her window as they passed by boring houses on a boring street. Snow pelted down around them, and they soon had to slow to a near stop, because apparently some driver had slid on some ice and hit a pole. The girl glared at the cars in front of them, her fingers twitching. If only she had her guitar…
"Stop those thoughts right now, Amber McLain!" A snappish voice said from the driver's seat. "I won't have you messing up again! We just moved because you used that guitar, you know!" Her father's ice-blue eyes glanced back at Amber, and she could see his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He was worried.
"Mortal!" Amber stuck out her tongue and turned back to the window, shivering slightly as she pressed her nose against it. Her breath fogged up the glass shortly, and she had to move away to wipe it off with her hand. "How much longer, father?" She asked, watching as they started moving again, passing by a brick house with a glowing sign on it. She couldn't see what the sign said, they were too low on the ground, but she figured whoever owned the house was crazy: no one with a shred of sanity would put that kind of sign on their house that happened to sit right on a major road. That matter settled, she leaned against the window and watched as the yellow lines on the road slowly passed by, feeling that they were moving a snails' pace.
"Not much longer, it looks like they are just cleaning up." No need to elaborate. "We should get there in time for bed."
She glanced at the small car's built in clock, noting the 9:46 flashing in neon colors on the radio. "It will take us 14 minutes to get there?" She said dubiously, doing some quick math.
"Just about, yeah." He answered in a final tone. Again, Amber quieted, leaning against the door and whispering something under her breath.
Danny had no need to know what his daughter was saying. He could guess it well enough….
"McLain, Amber. Punkish, rude, often calls those around her 'mortals' for unknown reasons. Likes include: skateboarding, horses, music and ghosts."
"McLain, Amber." The teacher's monotonous voice spoke through the classroom. "McLain, Amber." She was an old grandma, Amber decided, keeping quiet. "McLain, Amber." There was no hint of frustration in the teacher's voice, which frustrated the black-haired girl immensely. Has someone warned her? If so,
this ought to do the trick. Right as the teacher opened her mouth to say "McLain, Amber" again, Amber spoke up: "Here." She said in a deceptively calm voice, a serene kind of smile on her face. The teacher did not respond. "Noll, Gregory." A geeky, blue-eyed blond spoke up. "Here, sir." The class snickered and he smiled charmingly, in a 'who, me?' kind of smile. Half the girls in the class giggled and looked at him with gooey eyes, but once again, the female teacher didn't respond. It made Amber even more frustrated. No one had laughed at her joke! Immediately, she decided this 'Noll' person was her rival. No doubts about it. Sending a single heated glare towards the laugh-stealer, Amber faced the teacher again. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her frustrated, nuh-uh, she would just ignore him! That would teach Noll.
"Manson, Dan."
"Noll, Gregory. Popular, charming, surprisingly unspoiled, supposedly 'clueless', but many are not sure. Likes include: Lillian Fenton and chocolate."
Amber stabbed her fork into the lunch tray sulkily, ignoring the mystery meat she had placed as far away from herself as possible. Raising her head to glare at Noll for a second, who happened to be sitting a few tables away with his back facing Amber, she caught the scent of the mystery meat, scrunching her nose at both it and Noll.
Turning her face back to her plate, Amber blinked twice as she heard a voice speak nearby her. "Can I sit here?"
She raised her head with a glare, mumbling a 'No'. The owner of said voice ignored her mumblings and sat across from Amber, a packed lunch in his hand.
Sighing, Amber dropped her head. "You're not going to listen to me, are you, Manson, Dan?"
"You remember me from roll? You must have a good memory." He smiled softly, purple eyes contrasting against his yellow hair.
Amber internally snorted whilst externally stabbing her fork again in response.
"By the way, please, call me Dan." He was unfazed.
"Whatever, stupid mortal. My name is Amber."
"Manson, Dan. Quiet, polite, soft-spoken. Dresses like a Goth, but it is generally believed this is to please his mother more then anything. Likes include: his mother, biking, and red roses."
Stupid mortals.
A scream echoed through the halls.
Oh great. Here comes the hero complex…
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE