Chapter One:

First Days Are Murder

At first I was excited to get into this school. Eden Hall is - after all - one of the most prestigious schools in the nation. Like I said, I *was* excited to get into Eden Hall. Then I got there. I like to think of myself as…original, never a freak. Freak, however, became my nickname.
I sighed, got out of my car, - a black Volkes Wagon Beetle - and grabbed my backpack. I ran my hands through my hair and adjusted my black, leather duster. My boots thudded on the pavement, and my jacket billowed behind me. I had the Matrix soundtrack playing in my head-phones, and in my mind no one looked slicker.
I had to go to the Dean's office to pick up my dorm key, and this was where I met the definition of tall dark and gruesome. He smirked at me, eyeing me like a peace of meat. I arched an eyebrow in his direction, and shook my head. The Dean, a stuffy-looking man with a pointy nose and beady little eyes handed me my key, gave me the speech he surely gave every student, ("I hope you have a pleasant year…blah, blah…") and then gave the boy from before a stern look.
"Come on, Fulton." snapped the Dean.
Room 159. I'll have the room to myself. That's what happens when your mother is Alicia Monroe. Yes, the famous designer. She just finished a new line of fashions for this winter. Tell me, is silver and amethyst a good combination? Apparently so, because that's her focus this season. Not that I have a problem with my mother. She taught me how to radiate style without ever trying, a *very* useful talent to have.
The room itself was…bland…for lack of a better word, painted an odd shade of peach that clashed with everything I owned. Specifically, my peacock-colored quilt, and black pillowcases. Oh well. I'd just have to improvise. The first thing I did was take out my various Anime print-outs, movie posters, bumper-stickers (all of them tapped to huge poster-boards for travel) soon cluttered up the wall. No more peach.
I hung little lights from my four-poster bed and added some icicle lights on the ceiling. All that remained was to figure out what I was going to put in my mini-fridge. 'I'll have to stock up on soda.' I thought. When the room finally looked habitable I snatched my laptop and began typing furiously. So much to document, so little time.
Knock, knock, knock.
Someone wanted to come in. Too bad. The doorknob turned and the door opened. Doh! I forgot to lock it! A young man with bushy eyebrows and dark hair poked his head into my room.
'GO AWAY!'
"Was there something you wanted?" I asked. He stepped in, and that's when I caught a glimpse of his white and red letterman's jacket. On the lapel there was a C for captain, and from what I could tell, a number 96 on it.
"Hi, I'm Charlie Conway. I'm here to see…" he paused, looked at a slip of paper in his hand and winced. "Anya-stay-sey-a Monroe."
"It's pronounced Ana-stah-see-ah Mon-row, actually. And you're looking at her." I replied.
"Oh, good. I'm supposed to show you around." replied Charlie.
"Why?"
"Because I'm the captain of the Eden Hall Mighty Ducks, and top student."
'I'm not surprised.' I thought. 'Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you: Gary-Stue!'
"I see. When's class?" I asked.
"Classes are done for today, but dinner's in a few minutes. I'll show you to the cafeteria." He said. I got up, straitened my shirt, and nodded. We walked in silence through the winding halls, until… "So, where're you from?"
I made a PFT sound and quickly answered New York. He nodded in response. 'Wow, Conway, you're quite the conversationalist.' Finally, we got to the cafeteria. I expected us to part ways there, but he escorted me to the food-line. It never occurred to me that he had to get dinner himself. Once I was all paid for I made my way through the tables. Cheerleaders, jocks, and the so-called norms as far as my violet eyes could see.
Already I could hear the roomers brewing. The bottle-blonde Cheerleaders took one look at my…original style, and began whispering. Boy, gossip spreads like wildfire around this place. The captain of the football team eyed me dangerously and if I didn't know better I'd say that those girls in pink and baby-blue were laughing at me.
'Okay, so I know who *not* to sit with.' I thought.
"Anna-sta-si-yah, you can sit with us." said that Conway person.
'OOOOOH I'm-a-sitting-with-the-jocks. I'm-sitting-with-the-jocks. High-ho-here-I-go. I'm-sitting-with-the-jocks.'
"Please, just call me Anya." I said, smiling. "And thanks."
So I sat with the jocks. Big deal. Oh Gods I was bored. Rah forbid I sit by myself. No, Dean What's-his-name wouldn't like that. Anya Monroe, sitting by herself? Better yet, Alicia Monroe's little girl sitting by herself. I'm sure the Dean told Conway (a.k.a.: He-who-is-good-at-everything) to make sure I fit in.
'Go to hell, Mr. Dean.'
"Guys, this is Anya Monroe." said Charlie. There were hello's all around and then the captain began introducing everyone. Like I was really going to remember any of their names. "Anya, you listening?" I blinked and nodded, absently.
"Yes, Captain Duck." I murmured. He grinned and showed me to a seat between the only two girls on the team. I could feel their eyes on me with each movement I made, and it made me sick. 'I can feel you looking at me.' I thought. Everyone was too busy discussing (what else?) hockey to notice I was there and eventually the Ducks lost interest in 'the new girl.'
Finally that bell that sounds every 45 minutes sounded and that was my cue to leave. Er...that is to say...it *would* have been my cue to leave had Conway not decided to invite me to the practice. Why was he being so nice to me? More importantly, why did he care if I fit in or not? Why was he walking next to me, and making every effort to get me to make chit-chat with the team, blah, blah, blah. I hate it when they do that.
"Look, Charlie, that's really nice of you, but I think I'm just gonna go back to my room. I still have clothes to unpack and...a bunch of other stuff I need to do." I said. He nodded understandingly and I turned to go.
Once back in my dorm, after taking twenty minutes to find the correct hallway, I collapsed on my bed. I wasn't tired, just...okay I was tired. I'm usually much more energetic, but having to deal with a new school, new 'friends' as you young people like to call them, and I-don't-know-how-long on an airplane, I think I have a right to be tired.
What time was it? I snatched my cell phone and looked at the clock on it. 7:40. I do believe I'd left my room at 6:00. How did I manage to kill over an hour an a half? Oh forget it, I'll probably give myself a headache if I try and figure out that freaky concept called time. I could say first days are murder, but I haven't even *been* to classes. Ask me tomorrow. When I'm less deprived of caffeine.

End of Chapter One