"I just don't know what I'm going to do with him," came the voice from down stairs that could only belong to my mother. I crept silently down the carpet stairwell, peeking out from behind the wall to watch my mother stare despairingly down at the plastic covered counter top. We still owned cordless phones, I'm sad to say, and so she was restricted to standing in place. "I've been having to raise him on my own for eleven years now, and you know it hasn't been easy!"

Yeah, yeah, cry me a river. It's not my fault you treated me like I was some bastard child who didn't deserve to have a regular life. None of the kids at school would even talk to me, all because I once beat up some 1st grader a few months ago. He had tried to take my scissors away from me during art and, well, let's just say that I let him keep the scissors, one way or another. I continued to listen, "Maybe he does need a male role model in his life. Someone to teach him right from wrong. God knows he wouldn't listen to me." The person on the other line spoke for a minute, "Don't call him a problem child, he's better than that- " That was all it took.

I stepped out from my hiding place, my greasy black hair glinting off the fluorescent lights hanging from the kitchen, "I'm not a problem child," I stated defiantly as my mother whipped around to face me.

"Leopardfoot, I'll have to call you back," Her eyes were kept on me as she hung up the phone. "Darkpaw, what were you doing back there? You know it's not polite to eavesdrop on other peoples' conversations!"

"Aw, Jesus mom, who gives a fuck?" Was my normal reply. I was granted a hard slap across the face before my mom took her turn.

"I've told you a million times, and I'll tell you again," her voice was barely a whisper, "Do not use that kind of language in this house." My only response was to glare back at her. Most people find it hard to stare straight back into her icy blue eyes, but after years of throwing things and having them thrown back at you has made you defiant and stubborn, two qualities that I've been building ever since my accidental birth. My mother was relatively young for someone in her position- she had given birth to me when she was 16, after being raped by one of the men she looked after at Mousefur's Old Folks Home (founded by Mousefur herself and still running the place after 36 years). Tawnyspots, I think his name was. I never met him, he wasn't on his medication and killed himself the day after.

But the damage was done and after months of forsaken vomiting and back pains, I was born. Hallelujah, praise the lord. Mom and I still had his last name, Mccoubrey, which some idiots found hard to pronounce. The doctors could feel the shame washing over my mother every time she looked at me in the hospital that she refused to receive a birth certificate and tried to remember my name on her own. At first it was Nightkit, then it Moonkit, and then it was who-the-hell-knows-anymorekit, and she finally settled on Darkkit, because she said that darkness clouded her vision every time she looked at me and remembered what Tawnyspots did to make me possible.

But what the hell did I care what hardships she went through, she couldn't even bother to remember my name half the time! At least Tawnyspots had isome/i sense left in him. He would've made a great father.

My mother (did I mention her name was Willowpelt? See, I don't forget names) started nudging me toward the stairs. "Come on, Darkpaw, you've gotta get ready for school. Mommy has a big day in front of her."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a little kid!" I squirmed out of her reach as I began trudging up the stairs.

"Then don't act like one!" She yelled after me as I slammed the door to my room shut. I leaned against it and looked around my prison cell. It consisted of a small bunk bed that I pray will never be used, a huge stereo, a stack of CDs, an old wooden dresser, and clothes strewn all over the floor that was yet to be unearthed. Seizing the stereo's remote I pressed a button and music suddenly filled the second floor.

Aliiiiive

Just open your eyes

Just open your eyes

And see that life

Is

Beautifuuuuuul

Will you swear on your life

That no one will cry

At

My

Funeral?

I let the pounding beats of Sixx AM fill my body as I blindly pulled on the clothes nearest to me. I bothered to look in the mirror for a split second to fix my hair before stepping out and grabbing the tattered sneakers that lay faithfully near my door each morning. Pulling on the strings of the last one and not watching where I was going, I tumbled down the stairs and painfully landed head first against the wall.

"Ugh…" I went to rub the back of my head, forgetting about my shoe lace for a second. I looked up and saw my muddied backpack on a chair at the table, a lone banana lying on its side, a note from Willowpelt on top of it. It only read that she had to run out the door to go to work and that (as always) I was on my own for transportation. "Fantastic."

I was lucky that the school was only two blocks from my house. We lived in kind of a run-down part of town so nobody from school ever bothered to stalk me and follow me home. No gang would ever try to jump me. I was my own gang, and I was at the top of the pyramid. Locking the metal gate that crossed our door and jumping down the stone steps and onto the sidewalk, my backpack clanging against my back, something sharp jabbing me in the back bone. I rubbed the sore spot and continued on, past the small apartment where my grandpa Adderfang lived, past the alleys that served as my main place of escape during stormy days. It was April, so the alley could expect me back soon.

Walking on the school grounds to actually get to the door was the best and worst part. All the nerds from the other districts (Shadow, River, and Wind) along with those from Thunder, cowered when I glanced over at them. I'd be turning twelve and entering the appropriate age to start at Forest Middle School, and then be back where I started- at the bottom of the food chain. So I relished this moment while it lasted. The students from Forest Middle School (at least those that were from Thunder) had little to no respect for me, especially the girls. But romance didn't interest me at all. The one student that I thought was worth looking at was an 8th grader called Tigerclaw. But he had very little patience for those younger than him, so I watched from a far and stood my ground.

I walked into the classroom with a shadow hanging over me as it always did. I took my seat at the back of the room next to Whitethroat, a kid from Shadow who was constantly coughing and sneezing everywhere. Probably got it from Runningnose, who was one year older than me. Our history teacher, Mr. Sunstar, walked into the room and glanced around at everyone, as if to make sure that no one had any blood on their faces and that we were all cheery and ready to learn. Please.

"Good morning class," He smiled as we replied like zombies, "Good morning, Mr. Sunstar." He nodded and sat down at his desk. It was always at this time that I decided to pull out my head phones and let them cover my ears. But I always got caught within the next twenty seconds. "Everyone, I think Darkpaw wants us to take a pop quiz," he looked over at me, as twenty six pairs of eyes followed the twenty six bodies that turned around in their chairs to glare at me. I responded by putting my feet on the desk, putting my right hand behind my head and lifting my left hand's middle finger.

Mr. Sunstar sighed and began to pass out the papers. I slid the paper over to my face and grabbed the nearest pencil scribbling down answers that came to my mind. I never got them right and I never tried. Tests were like good sex moves- either you got it, or you don't. I and I definitely didn't have it. For now ;)

Classes dragged by until- finally!- lunch. I took my customary spot on the bench in the shade outside and raised the peanut butter and jelly sandwich to my mouth, ready to take a bite. A shrill cry rang out from the other side of the yard and caused me to look over. A crowd of 7th grade boys were forming a circle around something, or someone, I couldn't see. I don't know what sick impulse made me do it, but I got up and started running to the group of boys.

I pushed one out of the way to see what their object of interest was: a younger boy, probably 9 or ten, with bleach blond hair and light blue eyes that were now filled with tears. He was being kicked repeatedly by a white haired boy, who I automatically recognized as Blackfoot- the six fingered kid. Without thinking I pushed Blackfoot off of him, setting a chorus of "oooooooohhhhhs" to come from his gang of Shadow kids and the now gathering crowd around us.

"What the hell, man?" He said as he stepped back and looked at me. Noticing my age, his frustrated face broke into a smirk that screamed a challenge. "I know who you are," he looked at my face as he said this, "Some rat from the alleys whose mama wanted so badly to put him in an orphanage because his birth was a disastrous mistake. Oh, don't tell me, you daddy probably died or something. In a freak car accident, am I right? Or was it shoot out or something'?"

He didn't know how right he was. I screamed and lunged at him, my fists connecting with his jaw as we rolled over and over in the dirt. His nails were clawing at my scalp, pulling at my hair, his teeth trying to somehow bite my face. We broke apart for a second to stand up and have a fresh go. But he was the one who was up first this time, ramming into me so that I sailed three feet through the air before landing on the gravely sidewalk, all the breath knocked out of me. I groaned and clutched my stomach as Blackfoot ran over and didn't hesitate to start kicking my guts out. Soon though, I heard my assailant half-gasp, half-choke as I felt the pain begin to leave me. I looked up and saw Tigerclaw, who had grabbed Blackfoot by the scruff of his shirt and was now punching him repeatedly in the eyes. He finished him off by giving him a hard blow to the nuts and left him crumpling to the ground, whimpering, his hands reaching for his valuables.

I looked up to see a hand reaching for me, seeing Tigerclaw's eyes going straight into mine. I took his hand, still a bit wobbly from the fight, and looked back up at him. He wasn't that much taller than me, but still enough to make a difference. "Um…thanks," I said, looking off to the side.

Tigerclaw let go of my hand and said, "I knew you'd get into a fight, but I didn't think it'd be protecting that." I had no idea what he was talking about until I followed his pointing finger over my shoulder to see the blond kid I'd completely forgotten about until now.

"Oh, yeah," I looked down sheepishly, clenching and unclenching my fists.

Tigerclaw looked over his shoulder at his friends, who were gesturing back to him, "Sorry, I gotta go," he took a step forward, but stopped, "You're Darkpaw, aren't you?" I nodded. A small smile seemed to form across his face, "We should hang out some time. I'm Tigerclaw. I think I know where you live. You wanna meet up in an alley tomorrow?" I nodded, unsure what to say. "Great. You pick the place, I'll find you," and he walked away.

I just stood there, stunned not caring about the trickles of blood that dropped onto the ground. I felt a tug on my shirt and turned around, seeing the younger boy. "Th-thanks," he stammered. I looked around, hoping for someone to rescue me again.

"Um, no problem," I managed to get out.

I started to leave but he called out, "My name's Longpaw." I turned around again. "And, just, thanks again!" I nodded and couldn't help but smile a little. Longpaw saw this and smiled back before running back to his lunch. Somehow, things just seemed to be going my way.