Chapter 7 - Life Sucks

I really should congratulate myself. I actually made friends. Though technically speaking, they made friends - I just sat there.

Marie Marionette was definitely an odd person. Take our first encounter.

"Bonjour! My name is Marie Marionette – I heard you speak French. Did you know I'm from France? Let's be friends!" she babbled brightly.

"Bonjour...Marie. M.M yeah?" I replied.

"M.M?" she asked confused.

"Well that your initials right? M.M?"

"I never realised that! You know what – M.M sounds way cooler than Marie. Call me M.M," she insisted.

"Sure...M.M..."

The other friend we made was a guy. He actually seemed like a loner – sitting in the corner and drawing. M.M made first contact. "Hi! My name's M.M, and she's Serena. Wanna be friends?"

He was just as confused as me. "Sure...my name's Solte..." he muttered awkwardly.

"You have nice drawings – are you an artist?" I smiled, trying to be nice. He really was a good artist.

Immediately, he pulled the book up to his chest, hiding his sketch. "What drawing?" he tried to say innocently.

"That one dummy..." M.M laughed, and sat down next to him. "May I?"

Begrudgingly, he handed over the book. "It's not really that good...I have ADHD so this is the only thing that keeps my mind busy..." he admitted.

"This is amazing!" M.M gawked, flipping through the pages.

"You've got talent. I've got ADHD too," I reassured with a smile. And that's how our friendship began.


Over the following weeks, life began to squeeze itself into a schedule. School. Piano. Training.

Colonello had started close combat with me, but I was a failure at every turn. My form was perfect – but I was so weak, it wasn't even funny. I couldn't hit a punch bag without cracking my knuckles or do one lousy push up. But Colonello was adamant.

It was hard to fail when your super baby tutor says something like 'You don't sleep or eat until you do a push up!' and then takes a nap while pointing a gun that shoots fireballs at you.

On the remainder of the days, I spent time with my newly made friends – or with Dino or Squalo. They were great role models...in a way that is. We still went on our crazy trips – rock climbing, abseiling, flying fox, rope courses; just pretty much everything that triggered my hatred for heights.

If I was left to myself, I would read. I loved reading - stories, information, history - it was interesting. It was annoying with dyslexia, but I was getting a little better. It was only the occasional phrase I learnt wrong - eg. 'I have dyslexia' seemed to always turn into 'I have daily sex'.

My nickname at school was 'Lucky 13'. Why? Because every week, I would have an accident. And these accidents weren't even explainable. During only my first few weeks, I:

# Fell out of a locked window (the lock was rusted).

# Slipped on a piece of paper and fell down the stairs (it was camouflaged with the carpet).

# Got stabbed by a pair of blunt scissors (it wasn't the best idea to run with a pair of scissors and then trip on your shoelace).

# Hit in the gut by an exploding overinflated soccer ball (pay attention to your friend who says 'think fast' when your focused on eating a banana).

# Being the only person in the entire school to get a seizure during vaccination day (try not to go back for the same injection four times because you like the thrill of getting a needle).

# Forgetting how Squalo loaded a slingshot and shoot yourself in the eye (release the hand CLOSER to you, not the one FURTHER from you).

However, halfway through the year – there were parent teacher interviews. My parents hated these interviews – normally they were completely pointless, a waste of time an unbelievably boring.

I considered that to be the worst day of the year.

My school (to entertain the parents) held a show – and unfortunately, attendance was mandatory. This year, my class was the first act – singing. The parents may've been Mafioso, but the ones in the front were really enthusiastic and most had video cameras.

By now, my teacher had figured that it might not be best to put me in spotlight, in case some 'incident' occurred. So she shoved me at the back. That was her mistake. Having autism, I'd always had trouble with tying my shoes. Sure, I could tie them...but they became undone so often; I just didn't bother.

"You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine,
You make me happy,
When skies are grey..."

M.M was standing beside me, and winked. Why was she winking? Turns out she wasn't winking at me. She was winking at Solte, who was standing on my other side. What did he do? Push me over.

The previous day, we had a bet. I said that I wouldn't embarrass myself publicly. They bet otherwise. So I tripped, knocked over three or four people in front of me – and it was pretty much like a Mexican wave.

Oddly enough, I was somehow the only person to fall off the stage. Not only that, but I fell on top the principal, broke the microphone, destroyed four video cameras and became the centre of attention for being a klutz. Just brilliant.

Then there was the ACTUAL interview. Thankfully, I didn't have to be there, but I guessed it didn't go well. Why else would my parents say 'Serena – you're grounded'?

I guessed it had something to do with six months of lying that I just 'tripped' and got a bruise – not really 'I like having injections so I had four of the same and had a seizure...no big deal'.


Nonetheless, by the end of the year, I was a very beat up kid. My grades were all right I guess. But as my teacher said: "I can't let you skip first grade if you can't spell, constantly swear, catch a ball, beat yourself up or lose focus every two minutes;" which I found totally unfair.

At least I got a class award; 'Serena di Squalo, the most accident prone'. Arguably, it was better than 'the sports freak' or 'the writing fanatic'.

Squalo on the other hand, passed fifth grade with flying colours – his grades were practically perfect, and he would be attending high school after the school holidays. Dino scraped through fifth grade.

Colonello left. Well...he had to. Apparently, he had a job at 'mafia island' which was meant to be a holiday resort, so I have no idea what he was REALLY doing. At least he'd trained me to the best of his capabilities. I could do all those fancy moves they had in movies...in air.

When the new school year started (yet again), my parents signed me up for tutoring in practically everything. After school extra credit, martial arts classes; things that were just utterly annoying. And just for extra measure, they forced me to spar with Squalo.

"Mom and Dad...well, you know," Squalo apologized in advance, spinning his sword casually.

"Just get it over with...it's only one go right?" I pointed out, struggling to hold the bloody thing up.

"All right. First person to get cut loses!" he decided, charging forward.

"What?" I panicked. I can't outrun him...oh what the hell. So I charged too. Squalo raised his sword. I copied. It was a bad idea – because our swords clashed and he pushed me back fifteen feet and into a tree. "All right Squalo, you win..." I sighed, sitting up and brushed off my tunic.

"Actually...you won..." Squalo said surprised, showing me a few cut hairs.

"Luck?" I suggested.

"Huh...let's go again then!"

Facepalm.


To improve my writing skills, my parents insisted that I write a diary – until I 'improved'. I just didn't see the point of the thing. This was my first entry:

Dear Diary

My name is Serena di Squalo, and I'm five. If you think my name's bad, my brother's literally means 'prideful shark'. Well, arguably, 'serene shark' isn't much better. My life sucks. I'm weak. But my Aunt says that people can change. I just hope she's right.

Today I accidentally fell down the stairs. Again. M.M and Solte won their bet. Yet again. I think I might start betting against myself. I skipped lunch because I forgot to write my Italian essay and got busted for trying to eat in class.

After school, I had detention and was the last person left. I couldn't even do ten push ups. So the teacher compromised and let me do a thousand sit ups instead. Equally painful.

Afterwards, I went to a martial arts class, and got completely beat up by black belts. I'm pretty sure getting punched in the eye has lifelong damage. I suppose the bruises will last for at least a week. When I got home, Squalo almost cut off my finger – but he just missed because I sneezed and ducked.

Committing suicide seems pretty easy at this point.

How was I meant to know that my parents were going to read it? They made me go to a psychiatrist to be tested for insanity.


And then my Aunt died.

To be honest, I didn't really know a lot about her; why she was always solemn or that she and my father were half Japanese. But she had taught me many things about life – she was the only extended family I had. I was there when she died.

"So...are you going to tell me where we're going?" I mused.

"That's a surprise! But it's just a...family friend. It's his birthday so I'm giving him a visit," she smiled. I stuck my head out the window as we took another hairpin turn.

"If we fall, we'll probably die," I pointed out.

"Are you insulting my driving skills, Serena?" she grinned. "Don't worry, nothing will happen!"

But of course something happened. Suddenly my Aunt slumped forward, our car lost control, and we were going to crash.

It's ironic. If I'd been wearing my seatbelt, I would've definitely died in the plummeting car. If I hadn't had my window opened to the max so I could've jumped out, I would've died. And if I didn't sneeze immediately afterwards, I would've stood up and be hit by another car. Luckily unlucky.

I never really found out what happened to my Aunt. Rumor is she was assassinated. I knew very damn well she wasn't. Seeing death in person...was something that changed me. I once heard in a movie – 'close your eyes and pretend it's all a bad dream'. Then logically speaking, my life was one fucked up nightmare.


It wasn't long after that when I cracked. I was getting beat up. Again. By some random guy in my martial arts class. He was a pro kid. I was just a kid.

"Serena di Squalo, will you at least try?" the instructor sighed.

"I am trying!" I hissed, getting up painfully.

"Just saying, I have no problem beating up a girl," my sparring partner joked nastily. We went again. I think I lasted...oh maybe five seconds? "Fail!" he laughed, and the entire class joined in.

I swallowed my embarrassment, and thought seriously for the first time in a while. The reason I was in this mess was because I allowed myself to be pushed around. By Squalo. My parents. Teachers. Well that was the final straw. Screw self control.

"That's it! I'm going to beat the fucking shit out of you!" I swore.

"Aha ha ha – I'd like to see you try..." he beckoned, taking a stance.

My eye twitched. All the anger, pain, frustrations I'd endured in the past year gathered, and I charged. One blow to the neck and he was out cold.

"Just saying, I have no problem beating up guys," I growled, kicked him in the gut, and sat down into the audience. They stared.

From that day, I had a reason to fight - I wasn't going to sit there and let the world beat me up. My reasoning was like the Vongola family's 'dying will'.

My grades improved, my life improved. I started smiling again. But I still was a klutz.


When I lost my first teeth, Dino taught me about the tooth fairy - Squalo paid the money. I didn't believe their terrible stories about a fairy who kept teeth, but hey, it was funny watching them try. I still remember the day Squalo and Dino were trying to teach me how to ride a bike.

"These are the brakes – " Dino started, showing me the handles.

"You'll learn more from experience," Squalo insisted, cutting off Dino's explanation.

"You know..." Dino attempted to say.

"Just go!" Squalo said knowingly, giving the bike a 'gentle' push.

"What? Can we start off somewhere flat - " I began, just as I lost footing on the floor and started moving. Turns out, the brakes were important. Especially on an extremely steep hill. By the time I was halfway down, the bike was just as fast as a car – and I couldn't stop.

There was a train crossing at the bottom, and as if life wanted to curse me yet again, the warning bells started. Damn...it was either get hit by a train, or get hit by a car...and then I realised – they hadn't even taught me how to turn. Go figure.

In the end, I decided it would be better to crash into a tree – though the damage was no different. The tree survived. Dino's bike didn't. I ended up with a fractured knee and a dislocated shoulder. The pain had taken four months to wear off.


Thanks to Alexandra Knight's random dreams, I skipped second grade. As a gift, my parents bought me contact lenses. I may've only been six years old, but my eyesight was already ghastly. They were painful and annoying, and made my eyes were sensitive to sunlight - I often wore hats, even in class. But it was totally worth it.

When Squalo turned twelve, his angst/emo phase began, and so did Dino's. They spent a lot of their time alone together, playing video games, and sleeping. M.M and Solte were in different years, so we spent less time together. So it was a quiet year for me.

The only memorable thing that happened that year was during the winter holidays. I got sick with a bad case of the flu. Not fun. Medication didn't work.

The only solutions the doctors could think of were pills. Feeling sick? Take a pill. Tired? Take a pill. Feel hyper? Take a pill. Dying? Take a pill. Honestly, how these people were made into doctors, I had no idea.

My health was as stable as the stock market. A month after I was admitted to the hospital, I swore I saw one of the Arcobaleno – only this guy had a green pacifier and a lab coat. He gave me an injection, and the following day, I was completely cured. Maybe it was a hallucination.

My grades were good. I skipped my fourth grade.


In fifth grade, the age gap between me and other students was clear physically. At least I wasn't alone – there was this really weird girl with purple hair called Bianchi. People said she loved some baby, but since we were both misfits, we hung out together.

After a few months, she invited me to her little brother's piano recital. Since I didn't have anything on, or a good excuse, I accepted. We spent most of the morning playing hide and seek in Bianchi's massive castle and baking cookies. Both of us didn't really know how...but we found a recipe book in her kitchen.

"Remind me Bianchi, why exactly are we baking cookies?" I sighed.

"For my brother to eat before his recital!" Bianchi exclaimed cheerfully.

"But...we have no idea how to bake..." I tried to put nicely.

"This recipe is so complicated...I'm not bothered reading this. You wanna just go impromptu?" Bianchi suggested, completely ignoring me.

"So long as I'm not eating it."


Twenty minutes later...

"I'm not eating that..." Gokudera muttered. It was even giving off purple fumes. How was that meant to be safe to eat?

"Don't worry Hayato. My GREAT friend Serena will eat one. Won't she?" Bianchi eyed.

"You want me to eat that? But I'm lactose intolerant!" I lied, panicking.

"I saw you drink strawberry milk yesterday," Bianchi pointed out calmly. "And you know there isn't dairy in this."...I never was good at lying.

"I don't like cookies?"

"You love cookies."

"...I have something against circles."

"Just eat them..."

Munch. "Oh my god, these are really good. Gokudera, you've got to try these!" I grinned. Was it nice? Not really... But it wasn't horrible either.

Still suspicious, her little brother nibbled an edge, and almost immediately keeled over. His performance was of course, a wreck. But everyone else (who knew next to no knowledge of music appreciation) thought it sounded 'modern'.

"Hey Bianchi?" I whispered halfway through the piece.

"What is it Serena?" she whispered back.

"I'm not going to keel over and die right?"

"Of course not!" she replied.

"Why did we put five dead rats into the mixture?" I exasperated. Sure I didn't die, but watching Gokudera was painful enough.

"For flavour. Wasn't it your idea? Trust me, it's fine!" Bianchi stated with a thumbs up.

That was the day Bianchi invented poison cooking. And I realised I was different (well, in the ability to eat poison, not all the other stuff).


That year ended with a bang. Well, not really. Squalo's emo self disappeared virtually overnight. It was replaced with some overly mature, deep voiced...guy. Not that I had any issues with that. I actually had a brother again.

But then I went to high school.


The character Solte is actually in the KHR game - but he's pretty much an ordinary partially made up guy. This chapter is just a summary of Serena's primary school life. Now the real mess starts :P

Have a nice day; ciao :]