A/N: you may have noticed that I have deleted my story "I'm Still Here". The reason is that I didn't feel it really portrayed how I wanted the story to go, so instead, I am going to devote my time to this story. I revisited a favourite of mine (Of Goths and Peculiars) to help me write this. I own nothing but this fic! Enjoy!

I was stretching out on the front lawn in my favourite chair. I didn't really like the sun, but I didn't really care. Right now, all that mattered was that Minerva was about to kick the hell out of Dolores. Or something like that.

I was the only one at home. My Mom and Dad were out shopping with my older brother and sister. They always seemed to shop. To go to parties. To ignore me. Although, I never really liked them, or was like them. I hated parties. Hated fancy, lowcut dresses. Hated the shitty cocktails they served at Mom's family gatherings. My family was my polar opposite. They didn't care about books. About school. About knowledge. I studied harder than anyone else I knew. I was the only one who wanted to get a good job. Not that I needed one. My parents were crazy rich and gave me too much money that the both of us knew I wouldn't use or need.

Their red Mustang pulled into our driveway. Honestly, with the way Dad talks about the driveway, one would expect us to have plated it with gold, and the house to be made of diamond. It isn't. Our house is large, with red brick outer walls and a huge garden Lizzie (my sister) begged for and gets her boyfriend to look after. On the inside, we have pastel pink walls of my mother's choosing, with everything else pastel blue. Our tables, sofa, kitchen bench, baking ware, pots and pans. Our appliances are made out of solid silver, and our china (bowls, plates, cups, etc) have intricate flower designs painted in the middle. By the way, Mom and Lizzie decorated the house.

The only room that doesn't look like a doll's house is mine. The walls are painted plum, and I have a maroon bed. On my dresser, I have a jewellery stand where I hang my chrystals: my amethyst necklaces, for healing mental and physical scars; my rose quartz necklaces, for lowering stress; and my aquamarine necklaces, to calm the mind. Beside these, I have my assortment of scented candles. All over my walls are photos I have taken, and colourful dreamcatchers, to get rid of nightmares and release good dreams.

So yeah. Call me superstitious. I don't care. In my wardrobe, I have navy blue, dark red, violet and emerald dresses (not the lowcut ones, the long ones, with off-the-shoulder sleeves and velvet fabric).

Anyway, family in the dirt driveway.

"LUCY!" That's my brother, Max. "WHY DIDN'T YOU COME!" Max is always yelling. Always. "I WON AN AWARD!"

"How?" I snapped. I have a habit of doing that.

"I SPENT THE MOST MONEY ON LEGO!" he announced proudly. "THEY GAVE ME A LOLLIPOP!"

He was now standing right beside me, but that doesn't matter. He thinks I'm deaf or something. I'm not. Max has black hair and green eyes. Lizzy has brown hair and chocolate eyes. Mom has white-blonde hair, but that's only because she bleaches it. She also has green eyes. I can't remember what colour my dad's hair is because it's always dyed some eccentric colour, and he wears contact lenses to match his hair, so I don't know his eye colour either.

They all turn away from me and march into the house, nearly squishing Roach, that little black stray cat that likes me because I feed him and clean him and pat him. Roach jumps up onto my lap, pushing the book out of my hands and bumping my hand with his head- which is normal. I bend to pick up my book, and by the time I sit back up Roach has found a loose thread in my dress and he was biting at it.

Dad poked his head out the door. "You should come inside, Luce. You're about to burn," he said with 'a lot' of concern (see the quotation marks? Yeah. Thanks, Dad.).

I rolled my eyes, but nudged Roach off and went inside anyway. The colours hurt my eyes, so I went to my room to finish my reading.

An hour later, I heard my sister yell "WE'RE LEAVING! MOM LEFT TWENTY BUCKS ON THE BENCH! BYE!"

"Bye!" I yelled back. I rolled my eyes again, before going into the kitchen, taking the twenty dollars, and walking to the nearest McDonalds. It was only five-thirty, but I figured with the spare change I could get a new sketchbook and draw for a couple of hours.