Chapter I

I still remembered. It was a rainy day in the month of August and I was simply twirling my pencil while staring aimlessly at the racing raindrops outside my balcony door. Fog grew on the glass of the door whenever I breathed, my rested on the glass, and if anyone came into my room right now, they would probably think I'm some depressed teen. My focus was anywhere but on the the physics prep book sitting on my lap. God, studying is such a tedious and boring task. But it was required. Like any educated snobbish mother would have taught their daughter, my mother has always told me, "the ultimate goal of a lady is to be well educated, learn the proper ways of a lady, and marry a proper man." Great, so exciting. It's not like I really care about my studies, and neither am I that great at studying. Although I am involved in an advanced education program, there were always people who had better grades than me. But what do I care? I'm only in high school but my route towards Ivy League was pretty much laid out for me. All thanks to my mother.

But where is the fun when every single step of your life is planned out precisely to the point where your future baby names are picked out?

I could feel my brain cells go wild, as if they were all in a party and telling them to quiet down to study was only killing them off one by one. Dear god, I need a break. I stuffed my pencil in my notebook as a bookmark and slammed my physics book shut. The laughing children on the roller coaster of the cover of my physics book seemed to mock at me. Haha, I guess the book's content doesn't do its cover's charms does it?

I lazily rolled off of my comfy rug and set my foot onto the chilly wooden floor. I hated the wooden floors, because they would become ice blocks in the winter and I hated wearing slippers. My parents decided that it was more convenient to have wooden floors since carpets were, they believed, to be full of dust mites and seem to absorb foot sweat. I wonder how my parents thought of these peculiar things.

The rain poured on the roof heavily and the sky seemed so gloomy and dead. It looked like it was the perfect time to film a horror movie. I quickly ran to my bed and threw the covers over me, and grabbed my black and maroon Stanford sweater just in time to pull it over my head. The weather in Northern California is always bipolar and annoying. In the morning it could be raining cats and dogs and perhaps an hour later, the warm sun will spread it's glamorous rays over the lands, bringing out the blue sky, as if it were its minion.

Although it was summer-coming-into-fall, it still rained and was quite chilly. It didn't seem like a week ago, but a millennia when the scorching heat seemed to rise off of the disgusting blacktop of our street.

As I plopped myself comfortably onto my bed, I reached for my phone and started browsing on Instagram, liking some interesting pictures on my news feed, until my phone started buzzing. A picture of a brunnette with cucumbers on her eye invaded my screen.

"Speak," I answered.

"Are you up yet? It's already nine," a panicking bossy voice demanded more than questioned.

"Yeah. I think."

"What do you mean you think? Jesus Christ, Marcus and Jaddie are already at the mall. Please don't tell me you're still in bed."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"And in your sweats," Angela said as if she were facepalming.

Angela Pennington, a shopaholic addict that somehow I entangled with since kindergarten. She practically has dated all the football stars and constantly shows off her relationship experiences with the rest of the group like we're dimwits to the realm of dating. And, a devout Christian. I swear she's tried at least twenty-two times to try to get me baptized. I still shudder at the thought.

I looked down at my blue sweats. "Yeah, pretty much."

I could hear Angela stretch out a long sigh. "Dear Lord, please get changed in five minutes. I don't care whatever you pull, just get your ass down here."

"K." And I hung up. I could almost see the scowl on her face. Not a lot of people get to hang up on Angela Pennington like that and live.

I settled myself comfortably onto the seat of Angela's Ferrari and ignored her frown.

"Sup Gabe," I greeted Angela's driver. Gabe nodded in response.

"Excuse you, but what exactly are you wearing?" Angela questioned mockingly.

"A sweater." I looked around. "And skinny jeans?"

"You look like a piece of hobo gum from shittiest gutter on earth, dear god, you look hot af!" Angela punched me in the arm with a bright smile.

"Ouch, dude control your punches." I rubbed my arm. Ever since I introduced her to my Judo class in third grade, it seemed like she had more hidden talent than her fellow Asian friend.

"Yeah, whatever. Just make sure to shut your foul mouth when you see Jaddie. You know how sensitive she is, and her breakup with Quinn was pretty horrid. You should have been there when she hurdled the desk at him. Gosh, I swear, that little creature has no mercy."

Standing four foot seven point nine, our little Jaddie Marten is a mad little shortie. Lots of adults believed that Jaddie will grow, since we're all growing teens. But she's been four foot seven since sixth grade, and we all know that she'll become a legal midget someday. Mean as it is, no one can defy Jaddie's cuteness. But sometimes, that girl's obsession for anything anime related makes us wonder why we ever hung out with such a geek. Even I, as a proud Asian, doesn't infest my room with billions of Japanese anime products.

"Ugh, relationship shit talks like these… just take me home. Why even bother to bring me to 'comfort' her when you know I'm a harsh speaker?"

Angela rose a brow and crossed her hands together. "Not at all, Jay. You're a wonderful speaker. Well, at least better than me. Plus, you've been away for two years already, please cut her some slack. You know how she feels about Quinn."

"Yeah. Man, I still remembered when she used to draw freaky anime versions of them getting married and wrote thirty something different acrostic poems on his name in fifth grade."

"Exactly."

And that's when the car stopped.

"Here, have a smoothie. You've always like the berry blast they have here," Marcus smiled weakly as he put down an extra large Jamba juice in front of a slumped Jaddie. Marcus was a nice kid, I don't even remember when we started hanging out. Whenever we hung out with Jaddie, he was always just there. We never complained about it since Marcus was Jaddie's first friend, to be exactly, and knew her since her diaper days. He had chestnut hair and sharp features. Plus, his football body made him the perfect bodyguard for Jaddie.

"Come on Jaddie," Angela gestured to a group of passing boys, "there's always plenty of fish in the sea."

Jaddie buried her head in her arms and made a sound halfway between a grunt and a growl.

"I never understood what you saw in that piece of shit. Jaddie, why even bother to date?" Angela gave a death glare while I shrugged and sipped my coffee. "I never see the point in dating, especially in high school. I mean, what did you do on dates? Quinn isn't doesn't even have a license yet. What did he do? Ride a bike to your house and shout, 'Hey my darling Jaddie, hop on my bike and ride to the theater to watch The Minions movie!'?"

"Jay!" Angela shouted.

I rolled my eyes and snorted. "If I were you, I'd continue on with life fine without that jerk. Don't acknowledge his existence and show him that you're so much better than what he took for granted. Kick his ass… silently… and painfully. Make him regret that he ever had second thoughts about your relationship with him." My bangs dropped in my face and I brushed them back my ear. "Show everyone what a kind, beautiful girl you are and rip that guy's insides out so hard that he'll remember his stupid mistake of dumping you even when he has grandchildren. Although, I doubt if a jackass like him will even get a wife in the first place."

Jaddie's head popped up and she sniffled. "Jay!" And the next thing I knew was that she got all her snot and tears on my olive green Abercrombie and Fitch sweater as she buried her head into my arms.

"There, there," Angela and I merely shared smiles.

Marcus smiled too, and but fidgeted and said, "Haha… remind me to mess with anyone but girls like Jaylene Sun."