Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity.

A/N: Chapter three…Princess Aranel thanks for the review. Thank you to everyone else that reviewed too.

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First of all I would like to point out THAT ABOUSOLTLY NOTHING in my life story is oozing adorableness! Hippie got burned when she called me 'cutie', 'oozing adorableness' isn't going to put me in any better a mood…

So, I'm moving on. I think you can understand what I'm talking about here…

Lets see…um…nothing between the ages 5-6 you really need to know about…oh, my first day of (private) school. I'm sure your just going crazy from the suspense!

Oh, I'm seven now, by the way.

My parents were under the impression that pre-school was bad for young impressionable children and that kindergarten was almost as damaging to young minds. Due to this philosophy I attended neither.

Dad I'm sure, was all set on having me home schooled for the years before high school. However, Mom got to thinking about it and decided (for once) she didn't agree with her husband.

At that time Dad was still intelligent and (sane) enough to listen to (in other words, obey) his wife.

But he did put his foot down on me going to a public school. That simply would not be acceptable for his son…Dad wanted me to have a solid well educated background, a huh, yah, and so on and so on.

Private school it would be.

However there were a few slight problems.

Like the strict hair and dress policy, that my newly formed red streaked hair didn't match.

I despised what happened next.

It was the morning before my first day of school and I was in my room playing with my model cars and attempting to build cities and roads out of my Legos. However I kept melting the legos by accident. I didn't like that at all! I was getting really frustrated when my mom showed up in the doorway of my room. I looked up at her but she didn't say anything or even move, just stood there leaning against the door frame. So I just went back to my cars and Legos.

Awhile later she finally spoke to me. She also left her post at the door way to come settle on my bed.

"Warren, are you looking forward to starting school?"

Well I wasn't sure what school would be like so I can't say I was thrilled to be going….

"Mmmhmm I guess, mom. Why?"

"Well Wren I was looking over the school rules last night and your father and I realized something."

"What?"

At this point I clearly remember my Mom biting her lip nervously. Trust me; it is rare to see my mom nervous.

"The school has a strict appearance policy…and I'm afraid the red in your hair just doesn't cut it."

I thought she was blaming me for the red…and what ever incredibly stupid rules that school had.

"Bb but mom…I well um, mom I can't help it! I'm not in t-trouble, right?"

Can't believe I actually worried about getting into trouble back then, but hey I was seven. Oh, well.

"No! Of course you aren't in trouble, It's not your fault at all! Anyway, It's nothing a little dark brown hair dye won't fix…"

"Hair dye?"

Trust me she sure wasn't kidding about the hair dye. I WILL NEVER EVER ALLOW MY HAIR TO BE DYED AGAIN! Come hell or high water that is never going to happen again. The only reason it happened then was that I was seven. My parents were taller and more powerful than me. Lucky me, I call (most of) the shots now.

So mom proceeded to dye my hair with this dark brown shit…come on 'shit' isn't cussing. Honestly! I swear you don't even let me talk sometimes…no I am not talking back to you…ok ok ok, I'm sorry! I'll try and watch my mouth.

And it seemed to be working. Not a single strand of fire red showed through the dye job the next day.

My parents dropped me off at school, acted all parentish as their only son started his first day of school…sigh…

Why would a first grade classroom even need an unlit candle in it? Isn't there some fire hazard rule about small children and the chance for an open flame?

Because there on my teacher's desk was a small lavender scented candle.

I'll get back to that candle in just a sec.

Well the class started like any average class would. The teacher (can't remember her name, oh well) called role, tried to teach us the alphabet or simple addition (something like that) and gave up after the first three hours. See there is the difference between public and private schools. Public would have given up within the first thirty minutes…all school systems are screwed…something I actually agree with my old man on.

Interpret that how you will!

Everything started to go down hill once the class started coloring these big letters for the class room. Each kid was assigned a different letter in the alphabet, in the end all the letters would be colored and hung around the room.

Easy task, even for a seven year old, right?

The crayons melted each time I attempted to pick them up. Intelligent me kept trying to pick them up and half the box had melt on my desk. The wax kept running together and it had started to drip on the floor.

"Warren's melting his crayons! I don't think that's allowed!"

Bigmouthed brat!

So the teacher comes over and asks me where I'm hiding the lighter.

"What lighter?" I honestly didn't have a lighter…

"Warren, lying is bad, just hand me the lighter and I'll tell your parents that you did the responsible thing."

"I DON'T HAVE A LIGHTER!"

Losing my temper never goes well.

That's when the candle on the teacher's desk lit up and melted so fast that by the time the teacher turned around, her desk was already on fire…

"What's in your hair, freak?"

Oh, great…I burnt the hair dye right out of my hair.

You can bet my parents had a hell of a time trying to explain this one.

Maybe that accounts for why we moved away soon after that incident.