Kids were playing on the hockey field one day. It was your typical every other average day, when one boy would just score, causing everyone in his team to cheer and turning the other team angry. One of the other team's boys walked towards the fence, because there was another boy, Stan, watching the game, bt furthermore minding his own bussiness. He took a few steps back as that hockey kid aproached, but that didn't stop him from yelling.

"It's your fault we're losing!" he stated.

More than surprised about that statement, Stan questionned : "...Mine?"

"If you weren't watching..." the hockey kid explained, "...we wouldn't be losing!"

"I'm not doing anything!" Stan tried to tell him, "I just wanna play along with you guys."

"What!" the Hockey kid started laughing, "You hear that, fellas! That girl wants to play with us!"

Every boy on the field laughed, to which Stan responded, sad but angry: "I'm not a girl!"

The hockey kid grabbed Stan by his shirt: "Are you calling me a liar!?"

Though Stan was a little frightened, he couldn't deny at all what the kid was saying: "Yes, you are a liar!"

The hockey kid threw Stan away from him, and threatened him: "You ever call me that again, and we'll make you regret it! Right fellas?"

All the kids in the near proximity cheered: "Yeah!!!"

In anger, Stan turned and walked away. He heard them saying something else, but didn't listen, nor did he care what kind of bullshit they think needed to be said.

Stan was a ten-year-old kid, and obviously not one of the most popular kids in the class. It was summer at that time. Every kid was playing with their friends, which was quite the problem for Stan. While he was walking home, he watched every kid in every garden, enjoying and/or celebrating summertime. On his way, he noticed one home without any kids outside. He looked at the mailbox. It read 'Fitzgerald'. He looked at the house. It didn't appear as if there was anybody dangerous inside, it looked pretty normal, or whatever he was told about the meaning of the word. While he remembered what his mother once said, he wondered how much truth there is to her statements. She forbade him to go anywhere near there, and when asked why, she'd tell him that the kids of that house were crazy. Stan relised that his mother does allow him to go to school, where every kid appears to be crazy. Therefor, he couldn't imagine the Fitzgerald children to be any worse. But just in case, so he wouldn't be caught, he sneaked into the garden, through the bushes, until he ended up at a window, which lead to the basement. He looked through it. To get an even better view of the events occuring inside, he put his hands on the window, covering his eyes at their sides, so the light didn't interfere with his view. He saw one girl with long red hair, and one other girl with long black hair, both were of about the same age as he was. The one with red hair was painting something red on the black haired girl's throat. Once she was finished, the black haired girl started to move as if her throat was cut. The red haired girl didn't seem to be satisfied, though Stan thought this whole thing was cool. The longer he stayed watching this showcase, the more he pressed on the window, which didn't seem to be shut. Stan noticed but to late. The window opened, and he dropped in, litterally. The girls were alarmed. The red haired girl got up and grabbed a knife that lay on her bed.

"What are you doing here!?" she shouted at him

While trying to get up, Stan replied : "I was only watching."

"You were watching us?" the girl sounded disgusted, "You perv!"

The black haired girl intervened: "Ginger! Let him talk!"

"Gimme one reason, B!" the red haired girl, or Ginger, reasonned, "Aren't you supposed to be playing hockey with the other boys?"

"They won't let me." Stan answered.

"That's your excuse to be spying on us?" Ginger couldn't believe she was hearing this.

"Ginger!" the other girl warned her, then turned to Stan, "Why did you come here?"

"Well…" Stan started, "...my mother, and my classmates, always told me you're all crazy. I just wanted to know how crazy."

Ginger seemed either flattered or still angry. In either case, she said : "Is that so? Well then, how crazy you think we are?"

"Actually, I..." Stan started, "I think it's cool what you girls do."

"You do?" the other girl was surprised.

"Wanna know how we feel about it?" Ginger asked him.

A little time later, Stan could be found lying outside the basement window, covering the shattered pieces of the window. Stan himself was covered with red stuff, likely his own blood.

"Don't you think you've overdone it just a little?" the black haired girl asked Ginger.

"He wanted to know." Ginger reasonned.

The girl was still not satisfied: "But I think we made it clear before… this."

"Er… girls?" Stan moaned, appearantly still alive, "Can we get this over with, coz the glass is beginning to cut my back."

After finally taking a picture with her polaroid, the other girl apologised: "Sorry!"

She started making a few more, always from a different angle. From this point forward, the three of them were virtually inseparable, always busy with the art of death, and the spill of blood. With or without parents' permission was something neither one of them needed to worry about. Other than the name of Brigitte, Stan found out that the other girl was called Brigitte, who was ten just like Stan, while Ginger was one year older.

Alas, nothing is to last forever. The summer was coming to an end, and school would start any time soon. So it was time for the three to say goodbye.

"Guess we'll see you at school then." Brigitte said.

"I'm not sure." Stan told her, "I heard quite a lot about you, yet I never saw either of you at school."

"Great!" Ginger started, "For once we had a boy who wanted to stick around with us."

"Hey, don't sweat it!" Stan tried to comfort them, "We will see each other again. If not tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, and I know I sound pretty lame, but it will be allright."

The girls went silent after his statement. This pretty much confirmed his earlier statement, that whatever he was saying was lame indeed. Relising this, Stan raised his hand, where there appeared to be a scar, as he said the following: "Hey! Out by sixteen or dead in the scene, but together forever. Right?"

The girls grinned, as they raised their hands, which appeared to have scars just as well.

"See you later Ginger, Brigitte." Stan finally said, as he turned to leave.

"Bye Stan!" Brigitte cried to him.

"If we find you under a truck, it better be a photo shoot!" Ginger said after him.

All three grinned. Stan returned home, as he witnessed the sun setting, figurely sinking down to indicate the end of an era. The summer has gone!

The first school day, Stan walked inside the building. The same hockey kid that called Stan a girl, was waiting for him, along with other boys.

"Getting tired of Barbie dolls?" the kid asked him mockingly.

As usual, Stan couldn't understand this kid: "What are you talking about?"

"I saw you with some girls this summer." the kid explained, "So you played with girls the whole time. Don't deny it!"

"Well..." Stan started, but couldn't finish as that kid interrupted him again.

"Why don't you spend time with us like normal kids?"

"You wouldn't let me!" Stan replied, as though he actually didn't need to say it.

"Coz you are a geek!" the kid implied.

"I'm a geek?" Stan bit back, "You can't even spell that word!"

The kid appeared to be getting angry, and signaled to the other boys as he ordered the following: "Get him!"

They started to push him around. Eventually the pushing turned to kicking, until they started beating him up. Dispite of Stan's cries, nobody answered to him. Nobody even tried to stop them, nobody seemed to care. For Stan there was nothing else he could do, but trying to remember all the faces. This wasn't easy, for it appeared that the faces changed every time he saw one. He could try and fight back, but what's one kid against an entire army? It didn't take long until Stan blacked out...