Hee hee! K, me n my friends went & saw this movie and we thought it was awesome, especially when jack black played 'iron man' to show zack how to play it on the guitar, cause we play that in our marching band and we have a little song that goes to it, so we were singing out loud in the movie theater. It was funny. Anyway, I saw this movie so I had to write a ficcy bout it, of course! Kk, read and review, savvy??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alexandria Wilson shouldered her worn black backpack and hunched over, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She wanted to go back home, not be here in this over-crowded brightly lit airport. She knew she stood out from the other people; they didn't have to keep staring at her for her to know that.

She was wearing baggy dark green cargo shorts with a chain hanging from the pocket to the belt loop over a pair of torn and ripped fishnet stockings, a tight black t-shirt over a long-sleeved white t-shirt, and worn chuck high- tops. She had silver studs lining both her ears all the way up, a silver stud in her nose, and thick silver rings on every finger. Black bands decorated her right wrist, covering a white bandage. Her waist length black hair, perfectly straight, was streaked with midnight-blue. Her dark smoky eyes were surrounded by eyeliner and mascara.

"Alexandria!" Mr. Wilson waved to her excitedly from the other side of the airport. Alexandria (called Zan) narrowed her dark eyes and made her way over to her father. "Wow, it's so good to see you! You've grown so much!"

"Yeah, especially since the last time you saw me I was coming out of a uterus." Zan said bitterly.

"Why don't you let me take your backpack and we'll go pick up the rest of your luggage." Mr. Wilson suggested.

"I'll carry it, thank-you." Zan said in a low voice. "And I don't have any other luggage."

"Okay then." Mr. Wilson rubbed his hands together nervously. "Well, let's go then. The car is in the parking garage. Your step-mother can't wait to meet you!"

"You're married?" Zan asked with arched eyebrows.

"Well, er, yes." Mr. Wilson nodded, leading the way out to the parking garage. "Her name is Clare. You'll like her a lot. She has a daughter, too."

"Great." Zan said flatly.

"Er, Clare will take you shopping tomorrow." Mr. Wilson went on, unlocking the car and climbing in. Zan slipped into the front passenger seat, dropping her backpack between her feet. "Do you have any other clothes with you?"

"A few." Zan kicked her backpack with the toe of her shoe.

"Maybe you should change before we get there." Mr. Wilson suggested nervously. "I don't know what Clare will say if you walk in dressed like..."

"Like this?" Zan indicated her outfit. "Sorry to disappoint you, but this is how I dress. All my clothes look like this."

"Oh." Mr. Wilson sighed and turned back to driving. They rode the rest of the way in silence.

They arrived at a pretty large house with a circle drive and a pool visible in the backyard, surrounded by a wooden fence. Mr. Wilson parked his car in the driveway, then climbed out and headed for the front door. Zan followed him.

"Honey! We're home!" Mr. Wilson called cheerfully, hanging his keys on a hook by the door.

A short, slender woman with short curly blonde hair came out of the kitchen, smiling broadly. She was wearing an apron, and pearls. 'June Cleaver' flashed through Zan's mind.

The woman's smile faltered when her eyes passed over Zan, but she quickly smiled again. "You must be Alexandria!" She exclaimed pleasantly, wiping her hands on her apron and holding it out to shake Zan's. "I'm Clare."

"It's Zan." Zan said, staring straight at Clare and not shaking her hand. Clare nervously dropped her hand.

"Well, Zan, it's a pleasure to have you here." She went on. "Now where is Brittany? Brittany! Come here please!"

A ten-year-old girl wearing tight flared jeans a pale pink blouse came in. She had curly blonde hair as well, pulled back in a ponytail with a pink ribbon.

"Zan, this is my daughter Brittany." Clare said, resting a hand proudly on Brittany's shoulder. "Brittany, this is your half-sister Zan. Why don't you show her to her room?"

"Okay." Brittany shrugged. "Follow me." And she led the way up the stairs. "Do you always dress like that?" She asked, heading down the hallway.

"Yes." Zan replied coldly.

"Whatever." Brittany shrugged, indicating the door she had just stopped in front of. "That's your room."

Without another word, Zan pushed her way into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind her. She hated it immediately. It had a pearly white carpet and white walls. There was a balcony against the wall, draped with thin lacy curtains. There were flower lamps set up on the desk next to a brand new computer, and there were empty flowery picture frames set up for her usage.

"God, this sucks." Zan dropped her backpack heavily onto the bed. It had a flowery bedspread and matching pillows.

"Zan?" Mr. Wilson knocked on her door, then came in. "How do you like your room?" He asked pleasantly.

"I hate it." Zan replied, her eyes hard. "I'm not going to be able to sleep in a room like this. We have to redecorate it as soon as possible."

"I thought all girls liked flowers!" Mr. Wilson exclaimed. "Clare said they did..."

"Do I look like the kind of girl who likes flowers?" Zan demanded acidly.

"All right. You and Clare can pick out some new things while you're out shopping tomorrow." Mr. Wilson said. "Why don't you unpack as much as you can and then come down for dinner? The dining room is the first door on the right when you come down the stairs."

"Whatever." Zan muttered, turning her back to him and unzipping her backpack. Mr. Wilson quietly shut the door and went back downstairs.

Zan put away the few clothes she had. There was an empty cd rack by her desk, and she put all the cd's she'd stolen over the years in it. Then she glanced around her room once more in disgust, then headed downstairs.

"Ah, I was just about to send Brittany to get you." Clare said cheerfully, smiling warmly at Zan as she brought a platter of roast beef into the dining room. "Have a seat." Zan reluctantly slid into the seat. She didn't like all the fancy furniture; it made her nervous. "Your father tells me that you want to redecorate your room."

"I hate flowers." Zan replied bluntly.

"Well everyone has their own tastes." Clare replied briskly, setting the dish down. "Brittany! George! Come on before dinner gets cold!"

Zan wasn't used to so much food, so she didn't eat a lot.

"Do you not like it, Zan?" Mr. Wilson asked when she pushed her plate away still half-full.

"It's okay." Zan shrugged, even though it had been delicious. "I'm going back to my room to finish unpacking." And she disappeared up the stairs.

In the morning, Mr. Wilson took Brittany to cheerleading tryouts, so it was Clare and Zan alone for breakfast.

"How exactly do you want to decorate your room, Zan?" Clare asked politely, sipping a cup of herbal tea with her pinkie sticking out.

"I don't know." Zan mumbled. "But definitely NO flowers. Or pink."

"You don't like pink?" Clare asked. Zan fixed her with a flat stare. "Okay then." Clare looked away nervously. "What stores do you like? Abercrombie and Fitch is big among kids your age. So is American Eagle, and Wet Seal."

"All my clothes come from thrift stores." Zan said bluntly.

"Well, we'll just have to explore everything then." Clare said, flushing slightly. She finished her tea. "Are you feeling okay? You didn't eat very much."

"I wasn't very hungry." Zan lied, pushing her plate away from her.

"Well, let's go then." Clare said. "Martha will take care of the dishes. She's our housekeeper."

"We have a maid?" Zan demanded with a flat stare.

"A housekeeper, really." Clare replied, picking up her purse and leading the way to her white SUV parked in the garage.

They spent all day at the stores that were 'popular' according to Clare. Zan hated everything Clare tried to make her buy. They finally went to a thrift shop, where Zan spent nearly three hundred dollars on a new wardrobe. Then they went to a linens store. They bought a black bedspread and pillows, dark red lamps and heavy curtains, and nearly a hundred and fifty dollars worth of posters to put up on the walls.

"Are you sure that's how you want your room decorated?" Clare asked nervously as they drove home.

"Yes." Zan said firmly.

"Let's see the new room!" Mr. Wilson exclaimed cheerfully when he and Brittany returned from her tryouts. He pushed open the door.

Zan was sitting cross legged on her bed. She was wearing a pair of faded, holey, baggy blue jeans with a spiked belt, a black tank top, and a spike necklace. Her streaked hair was pulled back into a messy bun secured by two chewed on pencils. She was writing something in a notebook with a black ball point pen.

"It's so...dark." Mr. Wilson said, his face falling. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes." Zan said, her eyes narrowing.

"School starts tomorrow," Clare said, bustling into the room with some clean laundry. "You'll get your uniform later this week."

"Will I take the bus?" Zan asked, closing her notebook so that her dad and step-mom couldn't see what she was writing.

"They don't have a bus. It's a private school." Clare said. "I'll drive you."

"Is Brittany gonna be there?" Zan asked, praying to God that she wouldn't be. Clare's eyes flashed slightly.

"No. She attends the elementary school." She replied, carefully putting the clothes away in the dresser. "Dinner will be in about ten minutes. Come downstairs then."

"Whatever." Zan went back to her notebook. "Would you mind shutting the door on your way out?" Mr. Wilson and Clare exchanged looks, then left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hee hee!! Sry so short, but my first chaps always are!! Read and review, cause it makes me happy!! And read my other stories too, okay? Sweetness! SNOW!! I want SNOW!! Anyway, review!! *grins*