"Fang, Mom wants- wow! Look at your room! You did a great job! I mean, it looks a little like your old room, what with all the black but you really made it look cool!" Nudge rambled, looking at my bare walls.

I raised an eyebrow at her, wiping my hands on a towel. "Mom wants…?" I prompted her.

She shook her head. "Oh, right. Mom wants you- she's in the family room." Nudge skipped out of my room. Nudge wasn't my biological sister. No, her parents died years ago and, since my dad was her godfather, she came to live with us. Ever since she came to live with us, she's been super cheery. The total opposite of me.

I walked out of my room to the family room. Our house had a weird set up and my mom made it even weirder with how she set all the rooms up. Basically, right outside my room, was the family room. And my room was on the second floor, as well as Nudge's. Her room was by the stairs on the other side. My parents' room was downstairs near the kitchen and other rooms.

Mom looked up and saw me. She smiled. "Nick, could you help me with the TV? Your father is still at work." She had the box open but she was having trouble getting it out and onto its set-up.

I went over and easily picked it up and set it up. Mom smiled at me. "C'mon, let's go see your room. I want to see what you did with it." She led the way back into my room. She frowned a bit. "No color? Just black?"

Here's the thing: Mom didn't disapprove of my love of black but she wanted me to have color in places as well. Like grey or red or dark blue- other dark colors. She didn't want people to place me as stereotypical and call me names like Goth or Emo. She cared- sometimes a little too much. She even gave me the only room with a balcony.

Mom picked up a closed paint can. "At least put some color around, Nick. It will look cool." She took the top off and dipped a brush in the dark red paint. It looked a little like blood. I eyed her carefully, ready to paint over whatever girly design she put on my walls. She gripped the paintbrush tightly and shook it out at the wall, having paint splatter all over. I raised an eyebrow. It actually did look cool. When she finished with all the walls, she wiped her hands on the rag I had been holding. "I'm going to go finish up the kitchen and help Nudge."

Nudge's real name was Monique but she didn't want to be called that anymore since it reminded her too much of her parents. We even changed her name on her school records that way teachers wouldn't call her that.

I had to wait for the paint to dry before putting furniture in so I went down to Nudge's room to see what she did. I walked in and I had to hold back a grimace of distaste. Her room was lavender with pink circles. Her bed had pink comforter and purple pillows. Her floor was wood- which was okay by me- and she had a fluffy purple rug sitting in the middle of the floor. She had a desk in the corner near the window and it had frills lining the corners. The seat was covered in frilly lace. In another corner of her room, facing the bed, she had a table with a TV on it. Those were fine. On her wall, near the door to the bathroom, she had a corkboard filled with pictures of family and old friends along with drawings she had done.

Nudge was sitting on her bed, reading a magazine. She looked up at me. "Do you need something, Fang?"

I shook my head and closed the door, leaving the room.

"Nick, could you go to the school and pick up your information as well as Nudge's?" Mom asked, resting on the couch. All the rooms were finished except for mine and my parents' bedroom.

I nodded and she tossed me my keys to my bike. I had a motorcycle: a big, black Harley. I put my helmet on once I was in the garage and gently got on the bike. I made my way to the school, trying to remember how to get there.

-!-

I parked in the school parking lot next to a black and red 2009 Ducati. Nice. I studied it for a minute, noticing it was fixed up, and perfectly clean. Looks like this guy knew how to take care of a bike. I took my helmet off and went inside the school. No one was outside in the front; maybe it was because it was during third period, I suppose.

I stepped into the main office and felt the cool AC air rush at my face. I was probably a sight. I was wearing a black, short sleeved shirt covered with dried paint and dark blue jeans covered in paint as well. I held my helmet in my hand at my side. There was a dark haired woman sitting at the desk, sifting through papers. She hadn't noticed me come in.

I went up to the desk and set my helmet down on it, out of her way though. She stopped and looked up and seemed surprised to see a fresh face. "Hello. You must be new here, do you need any help or information?" She put on a smile, though I knew it was fake.

"Venom." I told her my last name. "Nick and Nudge."

She started searching through papers and found an envelope for one person, immediately finding another for another. "Nick Venom, senior. Schedule, supply list, locker, combination, ID, and lunch card." She listed off everything that was inside the envelope. "Nudge Venom, junior. Everything you have, she has." As she handed me the envelopes, she studied me. "Just so you know, school starts at 7 AM, not 10." She said it politely but I heard annoyance. I can read people really well and I could tell she was sizing me up as someone who loathed school to the fiery pits of Hades. Well, she was sort of right…

"And just so you know," I replied with a dark tone. "There's a reason my nickname is Fang." I flashed her a sinister smile, showing all my teeth, trying to freak her out. She swallowed silently, eyes a little wide. "And I'm not starting today." I left the office. "Moron."

I was walking to my bike quickly so no one would try to stop and talk to me. Students were milling about now, since it was fourth period lunch hour. I saw a group of people sitting at a table. The table was left alone, no one else besides the people at it, walked even near it. Like it was something not to be dared with.

They were all chatting happily until two boys started walking over. Everyone hushed at the table and looked over. One of them stood up and faced them. I couldn't see her face. As they reached the table, the girl turned around and pointed to everyone, saying something. Most likely making introductions. But I wasn't really paying attention to what she was doing. I was paying attention to her and only her. Her dark brown hair framed her face and she had strips of blue and red mixed in casually. She stood with confidence, although she didn't seem to be faking it. She seemed like the type that would kick your ass if you got on her bad side. I took in what she was wearing. She had on dark red skinny jeans and a red spaghetti strap top with black print on it in the shape of a skull. Over that, she wore a sheer black dress shirt that had the top buttons undone. Her shoes were the knee-high high-tops, black with red lace. She had on a leather strip choker with a rose cross as the hanging charm. On her arms, from her fingers to her elbows, she wore fingerless fishnet gloves.

I didn't know who she was, but I could tell that she wasn't a poser: she was truly hardcore. No doubt she had a hardcore name to go with her style. What I didn't get was why she sat with some really preppy looking people. There were two girls there who seemed to be related and be related to the first girl. They were wearing bright colors and wore make-up whereas Girl 1 didn't. Some of the other girls wore shimmery clothing and dresses and the two guys that walked over were wearing color too. She was the one who stood out the most.

I shook my head to get rid of my thoughts and put my helmet on, sitting on my bike. As I was riding home, I realized that the first girl wasn't pretty, wasn't good-looking… she was beautiful. She had her own style and that added to it.

I sighed as I walked inside from the garage. I hoped that this school wouldn't be judgmental. That no one would pick on Nudge or try to harm her in any way. I've already had too much of a scare like that. But if anyone tried- well, they'll just have to answer to me.

I handed Mom the envelopes and trudged up to my room to arrange my furniture. As I was moving everything around, Transatlanticism by Death Cab For Cutie came on my iPod. It was one of my favorite songs. I couldn't stop thinking about that girl. Everywhere I looked, I saw her eyes, her smile. I couldn't get her out of my head.

I sighed. Life at that school was going to be brutal.