A/N: I had some of this on my computer for a while, so I decided to finish what I had and put it up on FF as a first chapter. It's my first AU fic and hopefully it's enjoyable ). Possibly slash in the future, but I'm not sure yet. But what I am sure of is that it will be angsty! Ah, teen angst. How we hate you but love to read stories about you…

But anyway, just sit back, relax, and enjoy! R&R please when you're done! Reviews make me happy!

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Tales of a Street Rat MorningChapter one of manyIntroducing: The Street Rats

Michael McNeil heard the quick, triple knock on his door and automatically threw his backpack over his shoulder, as if the motion were programmed into him. The broken strap of the bag dangled and hit the back of his legs as he walked over to the door. Running his fingers through his already messy hair with one hand, he reached for the doorknob with the other and exited his apartment.

Door opened, and he was greeted by a smile of rather large white teeth.

"Ready Skits?" asked the boy with the teeth. Drowsily, Michael nodded his head and reached behind him to close the door. Despite his lack of energy, his friend, Darius Whitman, was always overloaded with it. Two years ago, freshman year, Darius discovered the caffeinated powers of Red Bull. He bought it every other day by the case and would finish it all by the next day, sometimes even throwing in a Rock Star or Monster. It was an insane addiction, but like he always told his friend: at least it's not crack.

"Yeah, hold on, Snitch," Michael said to Darius. He took out a key from his pocket and locked the door before setting off down the 5th floor hallway of the apartment.

Both Skittery and Snitch had lived in the apartment building since they were around 7, becoming best friends since second grade when their mothers met in the elevator on their way to take them to grade school. The two had been merely inseparable throughout their grade school days, so much to the point where Snitch had to be taken home early from summer camp in fifth grade because he didn't want to be without his "other half". Of course, it was cute at 10, but as they got older, they realized they should tone down the "two peas in a pod" thing. They realized that once they hit middle school and were well into high school, people wouldn't accept it the same way. Sad thing is, once reality hits you and you realize that you need more than one friend in your life, bonds loosen a bit, even with your strongest companion.

Walking down the tacky brown-carpeted hallway, they passed by an opening door that was emitting one of their classmates into the hall with them. They pair knew the boy as David but that was about as deep as their knowledge of the boy went. They walked past him without even a wave.

David Jacobs was a strange sort of kid. He was the quiet type, one that made you wonder if he suffered from a social condition or was just extremely shy. Some think shy is too sweet a word to give to the boy. It is believed by some that the reason he keeps to himself is to give him time to plot murders or something. No one really trusts the guy and most students do what they can to avoid him.

The year prior, there had been a bomb threat written in the boys bathroom that caused chaos throughout the school. Most were certain it was him. Sarah Jacobs, David's own sister wouldn't even stick up for him. In school, she ignored him just as much as any other student would. At home was when she befriended him. David resented how his sister would turn on him once inside the school, but he couldn't find the heart to hate her. Family meant a lot to him now because it was the only thing he really had.

The truth was, David wasn't a serial killer, nor did he suffer from some form of a social disorder. He was simply a misunderstood guy in a high school where he believed everyone was a superficial asshole. Despite the accusations of being a serial killer, David was actually quite the opposite. He liked to think of himself as a peacemaker. He couldn't tell you how many times he walked down the hallways at J.P. High, looking with hatred at fistfights that broke out or the cliquey groups that littered the school grounds. He hated the fact that no one would do anything about any of it. He was, in a way, a hypocrite to his own beliefs, seeing as he did absolutely nothing to stop them either.

As his apartment neighbors passed by him on the floor, he couldn't help but give them a look of disproval. He hadn't gotten a hello or anything from them since the 7th grade, when rumors first began flying around about him and people decided to ignore him. Not that they were good friends, but he used to think Snitch and Skittery and whole group were good people. In fact, he had been trying to recruit himself into their group all year, feeling that he belonged alongside them. However, once they joined the crowd and began to ignore him as well, his opinion changed.

David ended up doing a lot of thinking and changing that year. More than the average 13 year old needed to.

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J.P. High School was like any other private school found in the Upper East Side of New York City. Attending, you got your stuck up rich folk who lived in penthouses overlooking the crowded city streets. You got your levelheaded rich folk who lived in penthouses overlooking the crowded city streets. You got your just plain rich folk that got lost in the crowd of other rich folk who lived in penthouses overlooking the crowded city streets. Then, you got your folk from average to below-average income families who only attended the school out of scholarships. Scholarships were only given to kids with at least a 3.8 out of 4.0 average who needed them. So, as you could see, the "poorer" kids were the most intelligent, and had to be if they wanted to stay in the school.

Belonging to the crowd of the less wealthy kids, which were labeled the "street rats" (such an endearing term, no?), was a boy named Henri Flynn. That morning, Henri was propped atop one of the lunchroom tables with a casted leg extended onto the orange plastic seat of a metal chair.

Ever since he broke his again playing hockey, his dad had to drive him to school on his way over to his work. Of course, that would mean that Henri would arrive at school 20 minutes before any of his friends would. Not that he minded anymore though. After breaking, twisting, or fracturing almost every part of his leg from his femur to his ankle, Henri had adapted to coming in early and waiting.

One by one, his friends began to trickle in and join him at their usual meeting table in the lunchroom.

"Heya, Dutchy," Henri called to his bespectacled friend as he trudged his way over. Dutchy, better known to his parents as Peter Atkins, dropped his textbook-filled backpack on the table and took a seat.

"How's the leg, Crutch?" he asked, settling into a comfortable position on the plastic, a task that screamed impossible.

"Hurts like a bitch, but only when I use it."

"Then don't use it," said a voice as they heard another thunk of a backpack hitting the table.

"Ok, Einstein with an Eye patch, thanks for the advice," Crutchy said as he turned to face his grinning friend.

"Hey, it's what I do best. Why else would they make me the advice columnist of The World?" Kid Blink asked, referencing the school newspaper. It was named after an old paper created by the monumental figure that lent his name to the school: Joseph Pulitzer.

"Maybe because no one else would volunteer to read people's sob stories about their poor, poor lives," Dutchy said, feigning sympathy. He ended it with a laugh and Crutchy joined him. Even at 7:10 in the morning, Dutchy was always up for a good laugh.

"Yeah well, that's only half true, Dutch," Blink said as he turned a chair backwards and swung his leg over it. "I had to beat out Dean Cooper to get it. Only reason he wanted it though was because it looks good for colleges." He scratched his head where the string of his eye patch was digging into him.

Crutchy nodded and looked out past rows and rows of lunch tables until his gaze set upon Dean, a good 20 yards away sitting on a table and laughing with his group of friends. He had a Lacrosse stick in hand and a long bag lying next to him on the table. "All he's got goin for him is sports."

"Yeah. The day I hear he's passed one of Snyder's chem tests is the I shall drop out here and put up with public school."

"Doubt you'd ever survive in public school, Dutch. You can barely make it here."

Dutchy turned his head to see their friends Swifty and Bumlets walk over with Skittery and Snitch. The last person they were waiting on now was Jake. Jake Murphy. He was a new addition to the school and the group, so he was yet to receive a proper nickname like the others. It was usual for him to be the last one to arrive. He came all the way from Brooklyn and had to take the subway every morning just to make it to school.

The bell rang and the 7 got up from the table and reclaimed their stuff. Just as they were headed for the hallway, Jake finally joined them, Egg McMuffin in hand.

"Since when did you have time to get food?" Bumlets asked, envious as he looked at the poorly crafted, half eaten breakfast sandwich. "You barely even have time make it here as it is."

"Subway was late at my last stop. There was a McDonalds close by so I stopped there to get something," he said, taking a bite of it. "I'm starving. I didn't even have time to eat breakfast last night!"

"Why?" Snitch asked him.

"Long story."

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A/N: So this was just the intro of the first group of boys. There will possibly be three groups to be featured, and once all three are introduced, the plot will thicken. Once again, R&R please!