Author's note:
Here's chapter one of the rewrite! I hope you guys like it, I worked a lot to get this out to you so quickly. If it's not too much trouble, would you be able to comment what you think of it? I'm not sure, I do like it quite a bit more than the last draft, that's for sure. Meh, you're the consumer, let me know if you like it or not!
*hugs all of the readers* (unless, of course, you don't like hugs. In that case, no hugs.)
My sharp violet eyes scanned the FanFiction page I was reading, it was a common Mary Sue fic, featuring everyone's favorite anime, Hetalia. (Or as Japan would say, useless Italy.)
It was about some girl who was stuck in the Hetalia universe, but she ended up dying, and the countries were left to realize how much they depended on her. It was interesting, but the last few chapters I read were boring and uneventful, if not unrealistic. I mean, countries don't have complete breakdowns and lose their status of a country because of a teenager that has little to no impact realistically on them in real life!
Of course, Fanfiction isn't real life, and anything can happen in the writer's universe.
With a small and tired sigh, I tapped the red button in the corner of Chrome, effectively closing the browser. It was late, and I need to sleep. Putting the laptop out of my reach was easy enough, all I had to do was slide it across my king sized bed, near the edge, just not far enough to fall off. I tend to stay in one place as I sleep, or lightly shift. I'm in no way a dramatic sleeper like other people I met are.
The lights in my room had been turned off hours ago by my mom when she checked on me. She's lenient, and gives me a lot of room to do what I want. I'm not very rebellious, and I like to have my space, so it worked out fine. When my parents wanted to know something about me, I would answer their questions and they would leave me be.
Less stress for them, and no overprotective parents for me. Win-win.
I snuggled my face closer into my soft, incredibly comfortable pillow in an attempt to get myself to fall asleep. Within minutes, I felt the familiar tug of sleep latch onto my mind, bringing me closer to the coma-like sleep I needed.
"Cole, wake up. Your dad prepared breakfast, and I'm pretty sure you slept through your alarm. Kat needs to be picked up, doesn't she?" My mom's soft voice rang through my grey and white walled room, startling me awake.
In the mornings, I was cranky, tired, and usually a very ill-tempered person. This morning is no different. "Go away, I'm tired." A rough, drowsy noise was what made itself out of my mouth, rather than my usually normal, (common), teenage girl's voice.
I could practically feel my mom smiling from across the room, exhausted as I was. When everything was silent for a moment, my sleep-addled mind took it as an okay to drift off again. Oh my was it wrong.
"Pancakes." My heart nearly jumped in my throat, not just from sudden anxiety, but because pancakes were my all-time favorite food. Like, I will assassinate someone if you pay me in pancakes.
My head shot up on its own accord, even though my eyes were still closed. "Pancakes? You're not lying?" I sniffed the air to ensure that my mother wasn't bribing me with non-existent goods, and sure enough, the heavenly scent of flapjacks was hanging in the chilly air of my house.
"I'll be downstairs in a couple of minutes." My mom turned out of the room with a knowing smirk, leaving me alone to change and complete my morning routine. I threw off the black sheets that had done me a great service by keeping me warm all of last night in favor of the treat that lay in the near future: pancakes.
I swear, I have never dressed or gotten ready as quickly as I did now. It was like I was an unpredictable whirlwind, going from my huge walk in closet to my bathroom in three seconds flat. Of course, pulling jeans up your legs while hopping to the sink isn't the best way to get ready, (and an impossible to see through black Sherlock t-shirt over your head) but it's the method I chose this morning.
My makeup was foundation, eyebrows, mascara, and brown lipstick. I didn't have enough time to pick at my eye color, hair, or acne prone skin, since time was so tight. I tied my black, waist length black hair with silver fringe into a high ponytail as quickly as I could, resulting in a messy knot on top of my head, but at the moment I couldn't care less.
I threw socks and black Converse on, barely giving myself time to tie my shoes before heading back to my sink to brush my teeth and get rid of the terrible taste in my mouth.
When I was done, I jumped to my office, grabbing my phone and school bag, along with my glasses that helped hide my eye color before running out the door and down the stairs. The closer I got to the kitchen, the stronger the smell of maple syrup and coffee became, the more pleasant pancakes seemingly now odorless.
Backpack sling over my shoulder, cell phone crammed into my jean's pocket and black nerdy glasses set over my nose, I was ready to take on the world. Just as soon as I drank my daily tea and ate breakfast.
My dad was in front of the stove, casually flipping eggs, most likely for my mom. He was wearing a blue t-shirt, jeans, and house slippers. His short brown-blonde hair was combed to be slightly flat, but the look suited him. "Guten Morgen! Where's my food?" Without a word, he pointed to the wooden dining table behind my mom.
(Translation: German. Guten Morgen means Good morning.)
My mother was beautiful, with lightly tanned skin and short dark brown hair. It barely touched her shoulder, while her light blonde highlights complemented her skin perfectly. She was wearing a grey blouse with bright neon green stripes, black business pants, and white flats. Her hazel eyes flickered over to me in recognition as I sat down in front of a plate stacked to high heaven with one of my favorite foods.
"Honey, you have five minutes before you have to leave." Her voice was a tad urgent, and had every right to be. I was the sole person that could take my best friend of three years plus to school, so she depended on me.
"Shit, then can you make a coffee for Kat and an Earl Grey for me? Lightly sweetened?" I spoke as I reached across the oak table for the maple syrup. And not the fake stuff, the real imported from Canada stuff. Why the hell would you call corn syrup and artificial flavorings maple syrup? It was an abomination that deserved to be wiped off the face of the earth.
I drowned my pancakes in the syrup, roughly a stack of fifteen. You might think it's excessive, but I eat a ton and I can never gain much weight. It might be because I work out, but I guess I'll never know, because I don't plan on giving up the lifestyle I already have.
"Already on the counter. Three spoons of sugar per cup, and a dab of milk in the tea, right?" Kat liked her coffee black with light sweetener, and I like a good old British cup of tea. I'm 100% American in origin, even being able to trace back my parent's genealogy to the colonies. Notice I said my parent's genealogy. I honestly believe that I'm adopted; I look nothing like my parents.
I have black hair with red undertones, pale skin, and violet eyes. Yeah, purple eyes, naturally. People from all different backgrounds have called me a freak, monster, and demon. We used to go to a church a few miles from us, used to being the key component.
The lead pastor went to my parents and tried to get them to exorcise me. Not joking. So yeah, I look different, and besides the fact that my mom once made me watch my birth, (I'm still traumatized), I honestly don't believe that I'm genetically related to the two people that raised me.
"Thanks." My gratefulness was muffled, my face stuffed full of God sent flatbread, now dripping with maple syrup. A small stream of syrup tried to make its way down from the corner of my mouth, but I quickly licked it so it wouldn't ruin my foundation. I would probably have to reapply my lipstick in my car while I wait for Kat, but it's totally worth it.
Since I inhaled my breakfast, I finished with one minute to spare. I'm pretty lucky, aren't I?
"Leave your plate here, I'll get it for you. Just hurry, will you?" My mom was already picking up my plate, wiping away like only a mother, or Germany, would at the mess I created while I ate. I smiled at my mom before giving a small one armed hug to my dad. "Bye guys, I love you!"
In one swift move, I grabbed both coffee cups, one labeled Cole, the other with a picture of a kitten on it, and the Toyota keys hung on the wall above them. My drink smelled amazing, the caffeinated Earl Grey tea picking me up with just a glance at the warm H2O mixture. The coffee in my other hand revolted me, I hate any shape or form of coffee. Tea all the way for this fangirl. Sorry.
I ran as quickly as I could to my car without spilling anything, and trying to balance my backpack which was hanging off my shoulder with only one strap. A bit of black liquid, most likely the coffee, still managed to burn a small portion of my hand, but I continued onwards, ignoring the stinging pain between my thumb and my pointer finger.
When I loaded up my backpack in the backseat, still within reach from the driver's seat, I slid the key into the ignition of my silver Toyota Camry. My parents bought it for my sixteenth birthday, to which I really appreciate.
The garage was crowded, but with skilled driving I learned from my dad, I was able to make it through without a scratch on my barely a year old car. I followed the roads I knew well from driving down them almost every day until I pulled into a beat up neighborhood.
Two rights, one left. Go straight until I see a white house, ivy leaves growing on the side and curling onto the roof. Probably a fire hazard, but what will Kat's mom do about it? Jack shit. Her dad left her mom when she was seven. It was an ugly divorce, and Kat's mom ended up winning custody of Kat and her older douchebag brother, Alec.
Even his name sounds assholeish, right?
Since then, Kat's life has been living hell, so I'm glad to help however I possibly can.
The tea with a dash of milk and sugar next to me called my name, asking to be consumed, (figuratively), so being the wonderful human I am, I naturally complied. I was halfway finished with my cup when the light brown front door of my best friend's house was thrown open so hard I'm surprised that the forty year old house didn't crumble then and there.
The force that an obviously upset Kat slammed the door shut did in fact shake the house a bit, which was more satisfying than I care to admit. (I really hate that she lives in such a crappy neighborhood, it's like the fucking ghetto.)
Her shoulder length blonde hair whipped around in the air as she rushed to my car, but this time carefully opening it. She knows that I'll throw a fit if anything happened to my car. While it's true my parents got it for me, I convinced them to let me pay the payment with the car dealership. I like to work for my stuff.
"She kicked me out. I have to get out by Friday." Kat didn't even seem remorseful, just angry. Yep, that's my best friend right there. If you ever see her crying, run as far and as quickly as your legs can physically carry you, because there is definitely something wrong.
"But that's only three days, today's Tuesday." My dark brows furrowed in confusion. And why was Kat kicked out? I mean, I figured that it would happen one day, that's why I created a room for my friend in secret, it just surprises me that it was so soon.
"Okay, can you handle the school day, or do you want to go to my place?" I didn't press the subject, if she wanted to talk about it, she would. Kat seemed to release some tension, since her shoulders sagged. It wasn't a defeated sagging, just like she was more relaxed.
"School. I need something to keep my mind off of this, it's too much to take in all at once." And so the queen spoke. I carefully pulled my way out of the crappy neighborhood that my best friend won't be living in for much longer and headed off to our school building.
When we were at a stoplight, I checked my makeup, namely lipstick, in the car mirror. Just like I thought it would be, it was fading from the middle, and perfect-ish around the edges. I quickly redid it, and just in time, too, since the car behind me was so impatient that it almost hit me and ran a red light.
Colorado has such wonderful drivers. *sarcasm*
Kat quietly sipped on her coffee, which seemed to rejuvenate her a bit. She still looked down, though, (who the hell wouldn't?), so I handed her my phone. It was kind of an awkward shuffle to get it from my back pocket without losing my hold on the steering wheel, but I was able to do it.
"Choose. Hetalia or Hamilton." The two things that I am most passionate about at the moment, a musical and an anime. Kat shared both with me, which helped us be our true terrifying selves around each other. Our friendship was really awesome, but I don't know if I'm saying that because I haven't had that many friends before Kat, or if we really were just an awesome pair.
She turned on the phone screen of my Note 3 with a small shrug. "I guess both. Hetalia first, though." Kat quickly tapped in my phone's lock screen password, which she knew by heart. I wasn't going to change it, and we both knew each other's passwords to our phones, so it wasn't rare to see her using my phone instead of the one I bought her.
"Dude, I bought you a brand new IPhone six. For the love of Doitsu, use it. I've only been seeing you on my phone for quite a bit now." I kept my eyes trained to the road as I figured Kat was hooking my phone up to my car using my aux cord. Russia's character song, White Flame, a seventeen minute song, started playing, loud enough to hear and just barely make out the words.
Kat was quiet, almost… ashamed? "My mom shattered the screen, I can't use it anymore." What? Her mom shattered the phone that I bought? Did anyone stand up for her? When did this happen? Was she hurt?
"I'll take you after school to fix it. How did she shatter it?" I spared a quick glance to see Kat scrolling through my saved YouTube videos, probably looking for another Hetalia song she likes. Traffic was bad in this part of town, so I went slower, allowing me to make eye contact with her every once and a while.
"Last week. She got mad, tried to throw it at my head. She missed." With another fast look to my right, I noticed Kat was purposely avoiding my gaze. Anger pooled in my stomach. I had a perfect life, and my best friend had phones being thrown at her head? It's a good thing she's eighteen in five months, so she can legally be free of the bitch of a mother she has.
"Were you hurt?" If Kat was hurt, I can call the police for child abuse. Unfortunately, her mom is probably too smart to leave any physical damage to her daughter for fear of the authorities, but it would still be nice to sic them on her.
"No. She just left, probably went to a bar. She came home wasted." Her brown eyes flickered to my face briefly, studying my reaction before going back to the phone. Kat's tone of voice in particular pissed me off. She sounded so nonchalant, like it didn't matter to her what happened.
My grip on the steering wheel tightened. "How the hell do you act like it's no big deal? Do you realize you could have been seriously hurt?"
"Yeah, but there's no use in moaning about it. I might as well look at the bright side, I'm still alive and okay." Kat brushed off my concern like it didn't bother her. Does she not see the danger in living with an abusive parent?
I clenched my teeth together, but stayed silent. There was maybe two minutes left, at the most, until we made it to school, so there's no use in arguing. Kat would move in with me and get away from her mom either way. She would be safe.
My car pulled into the reserved student parking at my local high school. I pulled the key out of the ignition, grabbed my school bag from behind my seat, and pocketed my phone, which involved ripping it out of Kat's hands.
"HEY! Why'd you do that!?"
Kat slammed her door open, backpack slung over her shoulder. I kept walking and ignored her shout of frustration. After a minute, she was just grumbling, so I slowed down until the both of us were shoulder to shoulder.
Here's a few reasons why we walked like this: I have purple eyes, black hair, and pale skin. I'm also smart, (which I don't like to let on), so people pick on me.
Kat is made fun of because she hangs out with a 'freak.' So we stick together, even if we're pissed at each other.
The rough pattering of feet, as if someone was running, and the sting of hot asphalt being kicked into my jeans was enough to let me know my tormentors had seen me. I mean, how could they not? I'm the palest girl in school, and the sharp contrast between my skin and hair is enough to make me a walking sign.
It was impossible to ignore my presence, at least when I'm in a room of normal people, where they try to stay as far away from me as possible.
"Hey, freakazoid! What are you doing here? I thought I told you aliens weren't welcome." A scrawny, small pubescent teenager ran to me, trying and failing to keep his huffing to himself. Apparently, bullies can be out of shape. Who knew?
"You should be honored that I graced you with my presence. Most aliens try to stay away from this planet, because of the brutality of people like you." The sarcasm was so strong in my voice, I'll be surprised if the idiot trying to keep up with me doesn't catch up.
"Wow, I didn't realize you thought you were worth something. No one likes you, and the hot chick next to you only hangs out with you because she pities you. Ain't that right, darling?" His Justin Bieber haircut was swept out of place by the wind, causing him to growl in anger and run his thin fingers through it. I guess it's not the first time this morning the wind ruined his douche-looking haircut. Have a haircut like an asshole, you're gonna be an asshole. Simple rules of life, sadly.
"Braint, please leave us alone." I rolled my eyes as we made our way through the school gate and headed off to my first class, calculus.
Kat was usually silent when someone harassed us, and today she continued the year long tradition. She used to be the one that stood up for the two of us, but last year she was attacked by a senior when she spoke, and since then hasn't uttered more than two sentences to defend herself.
Briant, the bully, was about to say something else when the bell rang, signaling the start of class. Saved by the bell, literally.
"Hey, I'll see you in history, mmk?" I nudged Kat's shoulder with my own before I headed off to class. She muttered a quick "bye" before jogging down the ajointed hallway to her first class, science.
I was in advanced classes, the most advanced that my school could offer. While I knew almost everything we were being taught, I stayed for the socialization aspect of high school. My parents had offered to have me moved so many times, I can barely count, but I refused.
Instead, I went to public school, and did separate home schooling courses over the week. Even that was maybe an hour a day and I had just learned a week's worth of lessons from my other school. I absorbed information extremely quickly, and it was rare that my appetite for education was met. I'm a history fanatic, love languages and culture, as well as TV shows and anime.
I'm a classic nerd, just a bit more advanced.
The cold metal of the classroom door handle shocked my outstretched hand as I pushed it open. There was no one in my class yet, or so it seemed, but the sniggering in the back, where my desk was, let me know there was probably another bully in here.
My eyes rolled on their own accord as I trudged through the heavy atmosphere of my high school to the crowd of juvenile delinquents gathered around my work area. Mrs. Newhower didn't seem to be in yet which explains how they got away with whatever they did.
"Dude, she's gonna flip when she sees this!"
"Make sure the teacher doesn't see it though, we might get in trouble."
"Bro, relax. This bitch won't know what hit her."
Ah, high school. The place where the wonders of the English language are left out in the open for any person to learn.
No, I'm kidding. Never repeat what you hear in high school, it's filled with idiots that don't bother to educate themselves about anything. Honestly, I might rethink my decision to stay here.
"Know what?" My eyebrows lifted in amusement. If they were going to bully me, they might as well do it right. The three boys who were talking, huddled around my small space, turned around sharply.
Two of them were scrawny shrimps, and the one in the middle was incredibly well built, and likely to me much stronger than me. Unfortunately, as they turned, they were careful to keep my desk hidden from my view, effectively keeping me from seeing what they had done.
The muscular boy, who was maybe 5' 4", a good few inches smaller than me, tried to look tough and answered in a way that honestly made me want to roll my eyes.
"Nothing, you purple eyed demon!" He had short brown hair, which was mostly covered by a hat, and was wearing typical jersey and basketball shorts. All three boys were wearing the same thing, just different colors. I don't bother to pay attention to the color, my attention was currently focused on the bullies.
"Yeah, you freak! Go back to hell, where you came from!" The even small kid, maybe 5' 1" or 2", shot out at me. It's ridiculous, I'm taller than them, and they still try to make themselves seem tougher?
Without stuttering, I managed a reply that was both equally snarky and witty. "It didn't agree with me, I was kicked out. Apparently even demons can cause too much trouble. Who knew?" I shrugged as I tried to get to my desk.
The tall boy blocked my way, stepping out in front of me so that I couldn't take another step without ramming into him. His two goons followed, trying their best to hold me in place, like a blockade. Luckily, or unluckily, I'm not sure which; I was then able to see my desk perfectly.
It was covered in marker with names that I'd been called all my life. Even the chair was written on.
Things like "freak", "monster", and "ugly". Those didn't bother me as much as "deformed", "mistake", and "horrendous", just to name a few. Sharp pangs of hurt, regret, and sadness tugged at my chest until it was almost impossible to breath. My vision swam as I took in what they had written. Some of them were things that I had never heard before, like "bothersome whore", but not very original.
Most of the insults didn't directly apply to me, it was just random words that would offend someone normally. The three teenagers smirked when they noticed the tears streaming down my face. I couldn't help it, the tight feeling in my chest had to be released and the best way was to cry.
After a few more tears, I lightly wiped my face with the palm of my hand so I didn't mess up my makeup.
"What now, bitch?" The smallest of the three, the one who hadn't spoken up yet, laughed at me. His blonde hair was swept to the side in a way that honestly made me want to cringe. It was so unflattering! Then again, his very existence at this moment is unflattering to his parents.
"I'm not a bitch. Please move out of my way, class is starting soon." I was able to keep my voice from cracking, but the "soon" was more like "soOOon". I sniffled as I tried to get my emotions under control.
"Good morning, class! I hope you finished your homew-. Oh my god! Cole, what happened to your desk!?" I couldn't see Mrs. Newhower, but she was probably at the door.
"Um, nothing. Could you possibly get these juvenile children away from me?" I glared down at the bullies, who were most definitely not in my class. I have never seen them before, now that I think about it.
The biggest of the boys took a step back, giving me more room. His friends followed. All three gave me the dirtiest of looks they possibly could, before walking to the door. Mrs. Newhower hopped in front of them, effectively blocking off the only exit and entrance of the classroom.
"Tsk-tsk. Not so fast boys, you'll be going to the principal's office for harassment and bullying. I know your mothers must be so proud." The sarcasm in her voice was strong, directly aimed at the behavior of the teenagers.
They scowled, but went with the teacher nonetheless. How did she manage to diffuse the situation so damn quickly? That was over in less than five minutes, which has to be a record.
My eyes rolled of their own accord at the absurdness of the situation. Tears still pricked the edges of my vision, but they didn't threaten to spill over, which is a plus, cause I didn't put on waterproof mascara this morning.
"Fucking arseholes, the lot of them." I couldn't help but mutter under my breath as I walked to the cabinet to look for some Lysol wipes to wipe off the writing. I prayed it wasn't in Sharpie, then I would never be able to get the writing off.
The lightly colored cabinets did in fact have a brand new roll of wet wipes, which I grabbed as soon as I laid my eyes on it. The words on my desk ran through my head as I took the few steps necessary to get back to my area. Things like "freak" and "monster" were not new, but they still hurt.
When I scrubbed at the writing, it didn't budge. Most likely Sharpie, then.
"Oh shit, this is ridiculous." A heavy sigh escaped my lips and settled into my bones. I was so tired of being teased and bullied, so why did I insist on attending school every day when I know full well I can graduate right now if I wanted to?
My hands started to hurt from wiping at the desk so hard, to no avail. I eventually stopped in defeat when other teenagers started to pour into the classroom and fill in all the desks next to me. Everyone whispered about my desk, but no one helped.
Welcome to the 21st century, where you whisper shit about others to your friends but never help them out. What a wonderful time to be alive!
I set down the wet wipe on the corner of my desk so I could grab my backpack. My fingers were sore from where I had pressed hard against the cool wood of the desk. It didn't help that my backpack is super heavy, and I never use my locker since it had been destroyed more than once.
The classroom door opened as I had my back turned away from it, leaned over to grab the black straps of my black JanSport.
"Good morning class! Today we'll be working on-." Mrs. Newhower just walked into the room, but I couldn't care less about what she was teaching. Chances are that I already learned it, and calculus was a very easy subject for me.
When I was settled into my now graffiti covered desk, pencils and notebooks out, the teacher came over to me. Her long blonde hair reached to her elbow, curled at the edges and a small braid running from the center of her head down the bottom. She wore a brown, knee length skirt and white blouse, and simple black flats.
I have to say, great outfit choice!
"Cole, you can stay at my desk until I have yours replaced." Her no nonsense tone let me know she wasn't kidding, I had to move. Without a word, I repacked my stuff and slugged it to her desk, where the surface was now cleared and clean.
"Thanks", I grumbled. Mrs. Newhower followed me to make sure that I wouldn't throw a fit, though I'm not sure why she would think I would reject the offer. (More like command…)
"You're welcome. If you want to talk about it, I'm always open." My teacher's gentle smile showed she really did care, even if no one else did. It honestly touched me, no other teacher had ever even talked to me more than required.
"Thanks, I really mean it." The corners of my lips turned upwards in gratitude.
I could feel the class' eyes on us, silently judging and making assumptions. I can only imagine the things running through their messed up and deluded minds. I wouldn't be surprised to hear around lunch time that they thought I wrote all over my desk to get attention.
In fact, I'll bet ten bucks that will actually be a thing. I like to think that I've gotten pretty good at determining the next rumors being set out about me and Kat, simply because she hangs out with me.
Mrs. Newhower started teaching again as I reset all of my school supplies where they would be on my normal sized desk, now on a surface more than double the size. I took advantage of the new found space by filling it with papers and notes, silently copying the notes on the whiteboard.
After a while, I started to get bored, so I doodled little hearts around the corners of my notebook paper. In big lettering I sketched out a fancy "England", complete with little twirls at the curvier parts of the letters.
Yes, I have a crush on England. Sue me. I know he's fictional, but I guess that's what makes him appealing. It doesn't matter where and when I go someplace, it never fails that someone will make a comment about me being different, and when someone and something is fictional, it provides an escape.
I yearned for that escape. I prayed and hoped and wished that I could go someplace where the way I looked was common, and I wasn't different.
Maybe I didn't want to leave, I just wanted the bullying to stop.
I know that by being friends with Kat she's bullied more than she lets on. One time, I think it was a couple of weeks ago, I saw her books being thrown out from under her. When I went to help and asked what happened, she stuttered something out about being "too clumsy for her own good".
Since then, she's been slowly distancing herself from me, and I noticed.
When class was over I headed to history. No one stopped me, and the day went by pretty smoothly. In lunch, people didn't even look at me, but they did snicker whenever I passed by their table. During break, Kat talked with me about the new Hetalia season that I had just bought, asking if she could come over after school and watch it with me.
I, of course, said yes, and mentally planned the rest of the day's events.
After school was over, we headed to my house, the only sound in the car being America's character song, Boot Camp.