Here's my second fan fiction! Even though this seems kinda cliché, I promise if you keep reading there will be a twist that you won't expect. (: Review please!

My life sucks.

This has been my attitude about, well, everything. You see, my dad was apparently so appalled by me when I was born, he vanished. Poof. Gone forever. I've never even gotten a birthday card from him. Not even a freaking postcard. And then my mom goes and names me Cassandra, about some Greek chick who no one every believed, when really she was pretty much cursed by Apollo with the gift of being able to see the future. Yeah, she was raped then murdered. So why was I named after her? I have no clue. My mother hardly even talks to me these days.

You see, my mom lost her job about a year ago. Since then she's been doing some serious drinking. And I'm not talking a wine cooler every night. She comes home from some bar wasted on vodka and Budweiser. I go to a school for horrible kids in New Jersey, because like my namesake, no one ever believes me. I'm not even a bad kid. Most of the time anyway. We live in a government-funded apartment, and live off of food stamps and the income I get from working at the local McDonalds.

That was last year though. I actually wish things were like that now.

Lately my mom has been picking up some drunk, single guys and has little 'sleepovers' with them at our apartment. And then suddenly, the next day, there's a fifty bucks on the counter. Or a hundred. Or sometimes even as much as one fifty. It makes me sick to know my mother is this desperate for money. I love my mother and all, but this is a little bit extreme. I've always wondered why we didn't ever get child support checks in the mail, but it's not like I plan to go to college or anything. So yeah dad, even forty bucks a week would help us out. But no, my mother has to go and screw some desperate guy for money.

The sad part is, most of the time she uses that money for vodka and cigarettes. I refuse to use the money she gets from her "job", so I live off my income from my crappy job at Mickey D's. Which I think means my mom hasn't been eating. She loves me, but I don't think she really cares anymore. I haven't had a conversation with her in weeks. If I bring home straight F's on my report card (which I have done before) she just throws away the paper and says "keep up the good work, Cass" without looking at it. I only go to school because if I didn't it would be considered truancy, and that would get me thrown in jail.

So anyway, today is my first day at my new school, which just happens to be The Correction School for Unconvicted Juvenile Delinquents. Sound lovely, doesn't it? The funny part is, I have been convicted. And it's my parole officer that's making me go to this school.

Which means I have to get up. I wouldn't except my parole officer watches me everywhere but my house, and I can't be late for school. I get out of bed, and go brush my teeth. Great. Almost out of toothpaste. Just another thing I'm going to have to buy. I pull on my new uniform, a very stereotypical navy and red plaid pleated skirt and a red sweater vest with the letters CSUJD embroidered on the breast pocket. School regulations say I have to have my hair pulled back in a high ponytail, but I don't have a ponytail holder, so I just leave my auburn hair down.

I look in the mirror. I actually wasn't that bad looking, even though I had never had a boyfriend in my life. I have sea green eyes and long straight reddish brownish hair. I'm tall for my age, and I'm skinny from my lack of a nurturing meal every day, let alone three. I sigh at my hair, since it isn't doing anything I want it to, and walk down the hall into the kitchen.

Since I can't afford to eat breakfast, I just wait for the bus there. I glance at my watch. 7:15. Great. I still have 10 minutes until the bus comes. I decide to go out to get the mail to kill some time. When I come back in, I check it. Bill, bill, bill, catalogue, newspaper, bill. Nothing new. But then I spot a letter that has no return address. It was addressed to me. I tore into it, and saw a hand written letter inside. Inside also held a business letter that looked very official. I read the hand written one first.

Dear Cassandra,

I did you a little favor, which you will see from the enclosed letter. Things will get better soon. I am very sorry for these past years. Someday you will be a great hero, and this is only making you stronger. Everything will make sense soon. I will see you within time.

I love you very much.

Then the letter ended. Who the hell wrote this? I shrugged and opened the business type letter.

Miss. Cassandra Ramoya:

Your parole officer has been relieved of his duties considering your recent well behavior. You will no longer need a parole officer, and you are free to resume normal life. Please consider the generosity and shortness of your punishment and continue your well behavior.

Sincerely,

Stephanie Johnson

New Jersey Juvenile Punishment Department

I finished reading the letter, and I was in shock. A thousand questions are running through my head right now. But no more parole officer! I was getting seriously sick of that guy. My joy was short lived, because as soon as I tucked the two letters into my pocket I noticed a hundred bucks under a note that said Jennie, thanks for last night! I have your number! –Steve. I clenched my teeth angrily. Why does my mother have to do this to me? I heard the honk of my bus's horn, and ran out to catch the bus so fast I didn't realize the two letters had fallen out of my pocket and fell to the floor.