I decided to start this story all over. There are several changes, so even though you might have read it, I hope you would read this new version as well. Please read and review!

"Welcome to Bradley Academy, Miss Skye! We are very glad to have you as a part of our school and we hope you will enjoy your time here," the overexcited headmistress greets me enthusiastically. What a bore.

"I leave her to your care, Mrs.—" my stepfather, Dexter Skye, is exchanging pleasantries with the headmistress, but he doesn't seem too keen of it. He doesn't even remember the headmistress's name. I even doubt he remembers my name.

"Eisenhower, Mr. Skye. You don't need to worry. Your daughter is in good hands, we will make sure she gets what she needs in our school!" I don't know what makes this hag so ecstatic. The stepdaughter of number six most influential businessmen according to BBC enrolls to her school. So what?

I don't even enroll here with good circumstances. If I hadn't been expelled from my school at L.A., I wouldn't even enroll. If I were you, Mrs. Eis-something, I wouldn't be too happy to accept a drop out. Especially a drop out with ADHD and dyslexia.

"Very well, then," Dexter stands up and walks to the door, "I have to leave for now. Good morning."

I have to leave for now. Good morning. That's all Dexter's got to say. No 'good luck', no 'take care', no 'we'll miss you at home', no 'nothing'. That's just the way he is, cold. He's always been too generous when it comes to a few bucks for a new video game, but he's the stingiest man on earth when it comes to words.

"Well, now, Miss Skye, let me give you a little tour around the school. You will like it! Let's go!"

If my mother had been here, things would have been different. She would have comforted me for having to stay away from home until summer, she would have told me how she would miss having me around, she would have at least kissed me goodbye, unlike a certain ultra-rich businessman she married only a few days after my real father died.

It's not like I know who my real father is. He just doesn't seem real. Nobody's ever talked about it. Mom and Dexter never quarreled about him like other couples from second marriage do. Maybe Mom never liked him at all. Maybe Dexter is just too indifferent to fight with Mom. One thing about Dexter, he cares about nothing.

"Miss Skye!"

If only that freaky thing had never happened to me, I wouldn't have to come to this freaky school with freaky headmistress.

"Miss Zeta Skye! Where are you going?"

If only I could just run back home. If only I hadn't been like a million miles away from home. If only—

—GABRUK!

My head hits something hard and cylindrical, something made out of steel. It happened so swift I couldn't record what was happening, and then I found myself slipping on something slimy and falling down.

"Ouch!" my buttock hurts. My head too, because of the cylindrical steel thing. I shake my head for a second, and then I look up. A scary middle-aged woman is staring down at me furiously.

"I-I'm sorry!" I say at once. I don't really know what to do. Where the hell is the headmistress anyway? I'm the one with ADHD, she's not the one who should be forgetting my presence and trailing away on her own subconsciously.

"That—" the old lady is still glaring at me like a lioness glaring at her prey, "—is lunch of 500 hungry students, kid."

That time I realize what the slimy thing I slipped on is a thick cream soup. Not only have I fallen on it, but it's also sticking on my hair and jacket. My goodness, I hope this place has a laundry service. There's no way I can clean all this sticky stuff on my own. Then I remember about the scary woman I stumbled on. I see a glimpse of green flashing through her hawk-sharp eye.

It's kind of creepy. I could have thought she wasn't human at all.

"Miss Skye? What are you doing there? Let's keep walking!"

Now her eyes flash with red. I must have started having delusion again. This is not the first time I see weird things like this.

"Miss Skye!" I don't notice the voice until I feel someone shaking my shoulder. It was the headmistress, Mrs. Eis-something. I can't recall her name, "Oh, my, we need to get you cleaned, what happened here, Mrs. Langley?"

"This little girl bumped her head into my soup pot, Mrs. Eisenhower, and now the soup is everywhere. Now that you're here, I bet you can handle it, can't you? I had better leave and replace the soup, if you'd excuse me. Five hundred hungry students would be furious," then the old scary-looking woman leaves with no more fuss.

The next thing that follows is a never-ending speech from the headmistress that is too insignificant to pay attention to.

"I know you are different, Miss Skye, but you really should try to pay attention—"

Yeah, right. Do you remember why I am different? I suffer from attention deficit disorder. How can you ask me to pay attention?

"Here is your room, Miss Skye," suddenly we stop in front of a room in a dorm-like building, "Uh, you had better clean yourself up. Lunch will be ready in half an hour, maybe later considering the soup incident just now, but everyone should gather in the hall at seven. I will come to see you five minutes to seven because I must introduce you—"

When is this woman going to stop talking? I'm sick of it already. If you were me, you would have felt the same way too.

Some time later that feels like forever, Mrs. Eis-something leaves me with a key. Finally!

I instinctively put the key into the keyhole of the door in front of me. The door opens. I enter and turn on the light. The bedroom looks neat, but the neatness won't last if I were to stay here any longer. At least I don't have to share with some wacky strangers. My baggage's already inside. How did it get here anyway? Well, that's not important.

I've got to shower. The soup stain is drying. If I'm not fast, it won't come off.

I hear a knock at twelve fifty-five. I find the overexcited headmistress behind the door, "Are you ready for meal, Miss Skye?"

"Oh, okay," I nod. Then I follow her out of the dorm building as she hums another preach about mealtime.

The dining hall is loaded with so much people that I feel dizzy. Everyone's stuffed in here, from a three-year-old runny nosed kid from kindergarten to way-too-old-to-be-in-senior-year-but-stays-anyway guys. Not only that, this place looks like chaos. Some were screaming, chatting, gambling, and food-throwing at each other and nobody seems to mind. Not even the headmistress. She just grabs a mike, doing her best to introduce me to the whole lot of barbarians—I doubt any single soul listen to her—then left me to rot.

Well, not only chaotic, Bradley is not famous with nice welcome to new students too, to be honest. Bradley is pretty nasty to new students like me.

See, a pig-like boy—at a glance I almost believed he had snout—made me spill all my supper I had dared myself to ask from the demon-eyed Mrs. Langley I'd crashed into back in the hallway at my very first meal at Bradley by stretching his fat leg in my way. Now I have to go back to the extra long line-up for meal.

After twenty minutes queuing, creepy Mrs. Langley the cook gives me another death glare.

"I thought you had had your share for breakfast," she snaps at me with her high-pitched voice that hurts my ears a bit.

"I-I'm sorry, Ma'am! I spilt mine and I... I was walking and I fell, I mean someone made me fall and spill my meal, so...," Mrs. Langley's glare is piercing through me that my knees tremble.

"I don't care about what happened to your meal, but you've had it once and you can't get extra! I don't care if you spill it, eat it, or give it to ants, but you can only have one, case closed! Now, please leave since there is still a long line to go!"

I am forced to leave the dining room with empty, screaming stomach.

I am aiming at the door at the far end of the room and go to the dorm. The same pig who ruined my food threw his smelly soup-filled Styrofoam cup straight on my head. He should've known better. There's no way anybody could soak my head in that soup for the second time and get away with it. I glare at him this time.

"Ooh, scary!" he stands up in front of me and glares back. He sneers and punches me on the nose down to the floor.

Oh, bugger. How dare he punch a GIRL on the face! Hasn't he ever taught any manner? My hand instinctively reaches my nose. I see a glimpse of red when I pull off. Shit, my nose bleeds.

The loud crackling laugh of the piggy boy and his nasty friends rings in my ear. Of course I'm not going to whimper like a spoiled little girl and let them win. I wipe my face from any trace of blood and stand up. Those big kids seem to be surprised to see me rise at ease.

"What a manner!" I talk back at them coolly, "I can definitely see you rot like an old sod in the future. You've made a good start."

"—You!" the piggy boy's face looks flustered, angry, and funny at once. I bet no one's ever talked back at him before. I bet he thinks he can bully his way through and no one will ever stand up against him.

I'm so going to prove him wrong.

I see his punch coming my way again. I prepare myself to dodge it. One, two, three…

Why isn't it coming?

I look up and see long skinny fingers holding the piggy boy's wrist.

"You guys can wrestle as much as you like, but try to pick on someone your size," said the owner of those fingers which happens to be a towering skinny boy with jet black spiky hair. The dark shadow beneath his dark eyes stands out against his pasty white skin.

"I-I'm sorry! P-please let me go! I'm really really sorry!" the piggy boy whines. I notice all his friends have returned to their seats and dig into their meal. That skinny boy must be something.

The fingers around piggy boy's wrist loosen, "Go eat, then. If I found you starting fight with little hamsters again, I'll show you how they feel when you beat them up!"

The skinny boy might scare a big bully, but I have something to say to him, "What do you mean by 'little hamster'?" I give him an unappreciative look.

"Now, girl," he turns to me, "If I were you, I would stay away instead of messing around with those bullies. You're lucky I noticed this little mess at once. There are a lot of cases where wimpy kids like you have to be sent home for further medical treatment!"

I make a smug smile, "I guess that's a good thing. I don't think I'd rather stay here for long. Being sent home would be great."

"So you think broken skull would be great, huh? Do as you please, then. I'd like to see how long you can stand it," he smiles cynically and starts to walk away. I stop him, "For your information, I've blasted bullies twice the size of that pig," in a real weird and unnatural way, that's the thing that got me expelled. I don't even know if I will have such 'luck' again, "You're acting you're the king around here. Who the hell are you anyway?"

The skinny guy looks back, "I'm Elvis Lacroix, the prefect. Or the Nemesis, as they call me."

With that, he's lost from my sight.