"Tamsin!" Mother screeched. "Get down here and bring your brother his breakfast!"

"You do it!" I yelled back, annoyed at the interruption.

"Do not make me count to three, young lady, or so help me God, I will throw that brand-spanking-new computer out onto the curb!"

"You'd have to pry it from my cold, dead fingers," I snapped, but quietly. I knew she would.

I stomped down the stairs in my combat boots, feeling a thrill of smugness that the sound of my footsteps echoed through the entire house, the light wooden stairs doing little to muffle the sound. Ah, sweet justice. Just one of the many perks of living in the attic.

I snatched the tray from the table, stuck my tongue out at mother's back, and turned to stomp back up the stairs.

"You're going to go to school in that? Really, Tamsin, I thought you wanted to make a good impression." I froze at the sound of her voice, rough from years of chain smoking after my fathers death, my spine going rigid.

"What other people think of me is none of my business," I snapped in defense of my black jeans, Camp Kill Yourself T-shirt, dragon necklace, blood red nail polish on my long nails, more like talons, fingerless gloves, skull earrings, and black jacket with all the buckles and zippers and pockets. Waterproof, of course. Non-leather. Vegan material.

I stomped back up the stairs, fuming. She knew why I dressed like this. To protect myself.

"You sound reasonable," she called after me, "Time to up the medication."

I stopped outside Andy's door and kicked a few times. Hard.

"Go away," the sleepy, gruff voice replied.

"Get the hell out of bed, loser, or I'm going to hawk a lugie in your orange juice," I snapped. Patience was not my forte. I snorted loudly, over-exaggerating the gesture so he could hear it. "I got a big one right here," I hollered through the spit in my mouth. The door swung open, revealing Andy, five o'clock shadow and messy hair.

He grabbed the tray and slammed the door, rolling his eyes. I ran to the end of the hall and spit out the window, then tromped back up the stairs and grabbed my black shoulder bag, stuffed my iPod into my pocket and then, more gently, slid my laptop ¾ complete with Crime Scene: Do Not Cross case with bloody handprints and bullet holes ¾ into its designated pouch.

My black ¾ duh ¾ Ferrari F430 Spider ¾ 250 L of Nitro, GT Engine, Carbon frame, ect. ¾ was sitting in the driveway, gleaming subtly in the muted light. Just looking at it could make me feel better.

I slid into the drivers seat, jammed the key into the ignition, and cranked it, greeted immediately with Haste the Day's "Chorus of Angels." Shifting gears, I was about to peal out of the drive and onto the dirt straightaway that led from the middle of nowhere to the "town" when the passenger side door swung open and Andy hopped into the seat next to me.

I swore. "What are you doing in my car, asshole," I snapped at him. He was still tucking his shirt into his kaki dress pants, but at least it was buttoned and he was clean-shaven.

"You're giving me a ride to work while my ride is at the shop."

"When hell freezes over twice in July," I snapped, "Now get out of my car before I relocate your nose around to the other side of your head."

He smirked, going for casual, but we both knew that I could flatten him in seconds if I wished. "Did the aliens forget to remove your anal probe?" he muttered, but quietly. "Mom said you had to give me a lift until I could get my own car, and if you didn't like it, you could move out."

I swore again and stomped on the gas, peeling around the turn with a screech. I drove to make Jeff Gordon proud. "I still can't believe that out of 100,000 sperm, you were the fastest."

The reason his car was in the shop was that he and a bunch of his friends were drunk and trying to impress some chicks so they had drifted the car right into a tree. He was lucky that he was still alive, nonetheless that his Mercedes hadn't been totaled. It was a nice car, too.

When I finally pulled up to the law firm where he worked he threw himself from the car before it had even come to a complete stop, not that I had planned on stopping anyways, and I didn't bother to look back as I floored it.

I was in such a bad mood that not even A Static Lullaby's rendition of Toxic by Britney Spears could cheer me up.

Then I actually got to school, and it all went downhill from there.