Apologies for any typos. I should mention Roxas is going to play a very big part in this little ol' story xO. I didn't realize Namine had such a potty mouth until now ._.' Perhaps I should change the rating soon.

Also, be mindful of the years. They'll be switching around later on.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 1

Senior Year

Monday is just as uneventful as any other day of the week. I'm a good ten minutes late going into the shower. Cloud, my older brother, glares at me from the dining table. The taste of my eggs is nonexistent as it goes down my stomach. My sympathy-engrossed parents send me off with a pack lunch and a "have a nice day, dear". I half-struggle with my books and bag, as I go out the door. It's become such a routine that I'm not so sure that any of it is real.

I don't think about it too much, when I hear the incessant rumbling of the stupid car in the driveway.

The glare is still on my brother's face as he waits for me in the beat up Honda sedan, passed down from my parents. The look of disgruntlement on his expression is even more prominent, when the zipper on my bag scrapes the side of his car door. I huff, tossing the books through the window, and opening the door.

Cloud's only nineteen and he has it in his head that he's so much better than me. It's not like he says it (he doesn't talk that much) but I know he thinks it all the time.

With how shitty my poor clichéd teenage life is turning out to be, I'm starting to think he's right about being better. I glance at him, once he pulls out of the driveway.

He's smart, gets good grades, while I'm on and off with dangling by a thread with C's. He's good looking, with that stupid hard glare/gaze thing going on. And he's stupidly well fit and has a perfect stature. I'm… well miniature and puny. It's kind of ridiculous being a Senior who looks like they still belong in middle school.

"Drop me off a block before school." I demand softly. I can see his hands on the steering wheel tighten.

"No," he mumbles.

"Cloud. Just do it." I hiss. He relents, slowing the car down to pull over. "Thank you."

I gather my things, preparing to exit, when I feel his hand on my shoulder.

Cloud pushes down on the gas, causing the car to rumble unpleasantly. I take that as a sign to get the hell out of the car. Because sooner or later that piece of junk is going to blow up. I slam the door shut behind me, tightening the strap of my bag as Cloud hands my books through the window.

He frowns at me, looking away, before looking back. "See you."

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The sight of school immediately puts a damper in my spirits. It's not that I don't like school…no actually it is. I fucking hate school. I don't make grades most of the time and while that's a contributing factor towards this hate, the real reason is the fact that I have to see Kairi Lockhart's stupid face every day.

I clutch my book tightly to my chest, walking briskly down towards the front doors. As expected, I feel the eyes of the students milling about the front steps on me.

Most people assume I'm in my own world. That's why they don't really bug me. I guess, in a way, I am sort of in my own world. Or at least I used to be. I used to be a very naïve girl, believing in anything and everything. The notion of romanticized love, and grand gestures. Well, fuck that. The startling crash of reality just shattered every belief in my innocent mind.

Or rather, the startling crash of her fucked me over completely.

I reach forward and pull the front door open; feeling a rush of a cold breeze hit me and the sound of the prehistoric air conditioner chugging through my ears. I'm so used to it, that it doesn't scare me anymore. I still remember my first day here at this dump of a cow town school. I thought it was one of those foaming-at-the-mouths pit bulls waiting to tackle me.

My mind, in an involuntary action, rushes back to my first day – precisely a year and a week ago. Not that I remember that, it's just a guesstimation. Things were so much more different. Things were so much more –

A rough shove from the back, breaks me from my thoughts, and nearly makes the books in my arms topple over. It takes me a moment to readjust myself. When I finally turn around, I face the suspect, an expectant frown forms on my face. Why on earth am I not surprised?

Adorned in the ridiculous cheerleading uniform get up, a bitch-faced girl glares at me. I ignore her, continuing my trek to my first class.

The small percentage of people who actually acknowledge me are the idiots that harass me, like that bimbo. It doesn't bother me – most of the time. Usually it's easy to ignore. I'm used to the pushes, the name calling. The derogatory insults branded on my personal items. But when things start mysteriously disappearing, like the books that I've now learned to carry with me, things get serious.

"Where do you think you're going?" She sneers. I ignore her. I'm not a push over. I just don't think it's worth my time on someone whose name I don't even remember. Probably some fucking snobby underclassmen. I hate underclassmen. And no, it's not because Kairi fucking Lockhart is an underclassmen. It's not, so get that out of your head. Underclassmen suck. I don't ever think I was that stupid when I was a freshman.

I clutch my book to my chest again, shooting the girl a withering glare, before making my way to first period. Thankfully, I get to Pre-Calculus without anymore altercations. I reach the classroom, throwing the door open and going inside.

Pre-Calculus. Ugh. Another thing I hate. Again, I don't blame the teacher, or the silly, forgettable formulas. No, it all comes back to her. My eyes immediately dart around the room, looking for any semblance of that painfully familiar red hair. Bleh, I mean, like, stupid red hair.

A sigh of relief rolls out of my mouth when I'm met with no signs of the peculiar hair color. At least I get a few minutes of peace, before all hell breaks loose in my mind. This is the worst part of my day – sharing a class with her.

I don't know if I should be more thankful for the mindfucking math problems that distract me, or the fact that this is first period and the only time I have to see her throughout the day.

I take my usual seat, dropping my books on the desk. As soon as I'm situated, I open the first book in my reach. I ignore the disapproving look from the teacher, because, well, she's stupid. And she's a math teacher so I think she's just obligated to hate books.

A book is like the perfect tool of distraction when things are uncomfortable. It's educational. You look smart. And teachers can't exactly take it away, because hello, you're learning right?

That's what I used to think. Now they're just stupid.

My fingers trace over the words in the book, as I lean against the table. It takes me a minute to realize what exactly I'm reading, because for the past minute I've just been staring at the title page blankly. Wuthering Heights. The romantic of all romantic shit, besides Romeo and Juliet.

It used to be my favorite book. I know for a fact that books are a bunch of crap now. What happened to Heathcliff's death-transcending love? What happened to being together forever? Where's my Romeo to defy the stars?

I toy with the worn, bent pages. The thought of burning it and dancing around the fire like a maniac pleases me. A sliver of happiness races through my veins. If not for a brief moment. That moment is shattered, however, when she walks into the classroom, Sora fuck-I'm-a-Loser Highwind trailing behind her like an ugly duckling. Like a pathetic fanboy, begging for her autograph. What a loser.

It's like a scene out of a movie. Slow-motion and everything. The brunet in all of his pretty boy glory, holds on to her hand, as she smiles at him. Just looking at him sets my face boiling in rage. The same black bold words keep running through my head, as I see him grin back at her, his hands lacing with hers.

Kairi Lockhart is now in a relationship with Sora Highwind.

I hate them.

I bow my head concentrating on my fingers. Because it's annoying to look at them. And it doesn't hurt. Nope. It doesn't hurt at all, seeing your ex with the school's biggest idiot. Nope, not at all.

When the finger focusing proves to be useless, I move my attention back to the book laid out before me. It's not a very good focusing strategy because I can't really help the way I keep glancing at her like a moron. Her vibrant hair is tied into a messy ponytail, cherry fringe pushed to the side. Her face is bright and happy and just – just disgustingly perfect. My mouth twists into a frown as I read the same fucking sentence over again.

My eyes dart back towards her and, well shit, she's staring right back. Those fresh blue eyes that used to make me shake like a sad adoring fan. That used to set my soul on fire. That used to send a heat wave through my palpitating heart with her heavy gaze…

Enough of the dramatics. It just makes me sick now. No joke, I want to empty out my breakfast in the nearest trashcan. Or perhaps, if I get the chance, I can puke all over that stupid pretty boy's face.

Kairi's heavy, blue eyes swivel around the classroom, taking in the emptiness I assume, before focusing in on me again. Then she smiles and what makes it worse is that it's one of her stupid polite smiles I used to swoon at. Swoon equals error at this point. My body can't even comprehend with that action anymore. You bitch, I want to say. But I hold my tongue. She doesn't even deserve my acknowledgement.

I don't take well to liars. I don't approve of fake gestures or accept polite smiles.

And I sure as hell don't tolerate being sorely dumped.

With a final glance, I turn away from her.

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The day flits by uneventfully. My nose remains in my book. Or at least, I try to pretend it's stuck in a book. It makes the walks between classes shorter and less – annoying.

By lunchtime, I've come to the conclusion that Catherine is a mega, uber, dumb bitch. And that Heathcliff is a poor misunderstood soul. And Edgar is just an idiot… Obviously, there's something wrong with that theory, considering the fact that I used to hate Heathcliff before.

I run a hand through my hair, frustrated, folding the page as a bookmark. Apparently less annoying isn't an option for me. Even this book is proving to be a source of irritation. I sigh, snapping the book shut. The timing is almost perfect because in the next second a very solid body stops in front of me.

"Excuse me."

I look up from the book to find a blonde haired boy wearing a politely confused smile. It takes me a moment to realize that this isn't Sora; it's some other strange boy. His blue eyes squint at my lack of response. Heavy blue eyes that seem so painfully familiar. The boy shifts uncomfortably as our gazes meet, nervously brushing the swept bangs over his eyes.

"I'm kind of lost…" He trails off, gesturing towards the small piece of paper in his left hand. I feel my jaw drop stupidly, because, well he's talking to me. No, let me correct myself, he's talking to me like a normal person.

My eyes dart down towards the paper in his hands, then back to him, before slowly observing him as a whole. Baggy jeans, and a somewhat baggy shirt, with a skateboard clutched in his right arm.

"I'm new here." He supplies, as if I can't figure that out myself. A small twinge of annoyance hits me, but it quickly fades away at the confused smile he's flashing. It's…distracting. "I'm Roxas."

"You don't want to be talking to me, Roxas." I say, after finding my voice. The smile fades into a frown, and his dark eyebrows furrow together. Before he can say anything else, I move around him.

"Wait, wait!" He calls after me. It doesn't matter. I don't listen. I'm doing him a favor. If he wants to get anywhere at this damn school, he'd stay clear away from me.

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The bright sunlight hits me, as I walk out into the courtyard. I hear the chatter and babble of students as they goof off, eating their lunch. The pack lunch in my bag stays there… well, it will until I find the nearest trash can. My mom always forgets that I hate mayonnaise.

I find a seat on the nearest empty bench. Even if someone were sitting there, they'd scatter in an instant. I don't acknowledge anyone. What does it matter? I'm the school's weirdo pariah.

As if to prove my title, the same bitchy cheerleader from earlier has the decency to walk up to me, and smack my book out of my hands. My eyes are hard as I glare at her for a minute. The urge to scream, the urge to fight is unbearable. I feel my eyes tear up as I resist punching her square in the face.

The eyes of everyone on the courtyard zero in on this little spat. I know it, because it always seems to happen every day. Every day, in the same spot, around the same time, from the same person. You'd think I would learn to find another spot to pretend to read by now.

My eyes dart around the yard. I spot the new kid in an instant. He looks wary and in the middle of interrupting us. God I hope he just minds his own business. My attention swivels to the next person that stands out. Sora fucking Highwind. He's got a stupid, constipated expression on his face as he tries to make sense of the situation. As if it were rocket science. I fucking hate that guy.

Finally, I feel my gaze rest on the redhead who's watching me with an unreadable expression. Her eyebrows are furrowed, lip tucked beneath her teeth. That worried expression on her face aches. Not the good ache. I don't hold the gaze for long, because, really, she only makes me angrier. Instead, I intake deeply and then bend down to pick up the book. But the cheerleading bimbo beats me to it, kicking it a good distance away.

Her chestnut brown hair, flips at her shoulders. Her green eyes narrow maliciously.

"I told you not to hang out here, lesbo." She sneers. A wave of annoyance billows deep in my chest at the name. The name itself doesn't exactly bug me. What really bugs me is that it isn't true. What pisses me off even more is that the real lesbo is her so-called head bitch in charge captain.

I'm secure in my sexuality, when I say that labels and I don't correlate. Labels are unreliable, just like books, just like Sora Highwind, and the biggest pressed lemon of all, Kairi Lockhart. If someone asked me if I was gay, I would honestly answer that no. I'm just into people.

"It's a free country isn't it?" I ask rhetorically.

"No, it's not. So don't go around parading your stupid dyke tendencies here, okay?" She snarls, planting her hands on her hips.

"Selphie, come on." It's her. When the fuck did she get here? Sympathy flickers through her blue eyes and it's almost convincing. It would be convincing, if I were unaware of her lying backstabbing side. I snap in an instant.

"I don't need your charity." I bristle, scowling at her. It's the first time I've spoken to her since that day. Kairi looks taken aback, and another wave of that fake sympathy flutters throughout her expression. It pisses me off even more, but it's laced with an undeniable surge of satisfaction.

"Nami –"

"Shut up!" I interrupt, before she even has a chance to finish my name. I don't want to admit it, really, but I think if I hear it… it'll hurt.

I spin on my heel, and rush across the courtyard before I have to hear her voice again. It's weird and unnatural – hearing it now. It's been so long since I've heard it, especially being directed to me. It's almost too much for me to handle. I hate being made a fool of, and that's exactly how I feel at this moment.

My eyes burn in shame and humiliation, as I tear through the hallways with purpose. People dart out of my way as if I had the black plague. Well, fuck them.

Naminé, Naminé, Naminé.

She almost said my name. Fucking shit, she almost said my name!

Naminé. Even just the beginning of my name coming from her sends an unpleasant shiver down my spine. The last time I heard my name coming from her mouth was –

"It's over Naminé."

The hallways look watery now, as I blindly reach for the doorknob to the auditorium. The usual epicenter of all humiliation is the only solace at this time. I throw the door open and bolt inside, slamming it shut behind me.

The dark quiet room calms my nerves in an instant, as I take a quivering breath. I wipe my eyes gently, with my fingers and make my way towards the empty stage. My fingers move to adjust my bag but then – something is off. Where's my book?

A wave of dread shoots through my veins as I remember that bimbo bitch kicking it off to the side before I ran off. Wonderful. Well, there's another book lost. And I really liked that one too.

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Reviews are always lovely and are always appreciated.

Wuthering Heights - go read it!