God! 6 reviews already?

And to that someone who reviewed, yes, Randy Orton will be here in the next few chapters, and he'll be playing an important role here. So wait for it!

I rolled over in my bed, pressing down extra pillows and tangled sheets to check my alarm clock.

Great. Just super.

There were still a few minutes before the buzzer that Friday morning, and even though it would ring as shrilly as it would normally do, it would just make me feel worse. I wasn't able to sleep straight the whole night because of that stupid draft lottery. I always hated surprises, never to know what's coming next. My head started to pound and I wanted to sleep this off for a few more minutes. The away game with RRC is tonight, and I need my energy.

Someone knocked softly on the door, slipping a light blue flyer under the dark mahogany wood. This is the way SC people send mail. I got the heavy comforter off me, forced myself up, and walked to the doorway.

I picked the blue flyer up, staring at the contents blindly. Suddenly, my eyebrows hit my hairline as I read the words neatly printed in black block letters.

DRAFT LOTTERY RESULTS

(Trades made official after midnight)

"Holy!" I exclaimed through the silence of my bedroom. Wasn't midnight a few hours ago? I felt myself losing my stupor and I read the unlucky hopefuls from RRC who got transferred to our school.

RED RIVER COLLEGE TRADES

Rene Dupree

Mark Jindrak

Theodore Long

Rico Costantino

Booker Huffman

Jackie Gayda

Matthew "Spike" Hyson

Mark "Bubba Ray" Lamonica

Devon "D-von" Hughes

Rob Van Dam

My face went plain blank. The last name on the list kept repeating itself in my brain. Then I remembered the hopeful expression on the fool's face when he said he wanted me to their team.

"Ha! Too bad!" I gloated. "In your face, RVD!" I couldn't wait to see the man tonight and rub it all over to his face.

I read the other names listed. There was a French foreigner, a narcissistic human being, a so-called talent scout, a gay fagget, a Whoopi Goldberg look-alike, a blonde cheerleader, three adopted brothers, and a character out of a Kung Fu rerun. So Heyman was serious about that "no one is safe" shit. Maybe that's why Vincent Kennedy Mac created this lottery in the first place. Shaking things up a bit, he'd said, as a way of celebrating the 20th anniversaries of both SC and RRC.

And he did shake things up. Big time. Does he even have any idea about the consequences of what he's actually doing?

Well…maybe not.

Getting the evil thoughts regarding the Big Boss out of my mind, I nervously looked down at the near bottom portion of the flyer, where the names of our SC students are listed below.

SPRINGVILLE COLLEGE TRADES

Yoshihiro Tajiri

Shelton Benjamin

Terry Gerin

Nidia Guenard

A-Train (?)

Adam Copeland

Charles Palumbo

Paul Heyman

"Paul Heyman?!" I read aloud. Too loud. "No way!"

This was too good to be true. I mean, I already know that not everyone is safe and all that, but I had no idea that the GMs are also included! The injury he got from Evolution must have hurt him a lot, but working for the RRC GM Eric Bischoff must be one heck of a final blow.

Wait a sec…my name's not included in the list?

I blinked twice as I read the list again. My name was not included in the list! Even though I hate it in here, the "what if's" and the doubts going through my mind seemed to be gradually melting away. I felt relieved—no, what comes after relief? It felt so good.

My thoughts went back to Paulie and I know he must be begging for mercy right now. I read the last inscription at the very bottom of the flyer.

NOTE: All trades are made official with the cooperation of the Springville College and Red River College Board of Directors. Any impulsive or violent reactions from the draftees will be expelled from school without prior notice. Thank you for your cooperation.

Signed and officiated by Principal Vincent Kennedy McMahon.

I set the flyer down in my nightstand as I dropped onto the bed. The buzzer of the 6 a.m. clock went off and I slapped it hard, but I made no move to get up. I breathed in a sweet refreshing sigh of relief. Thank God it's over.

But the unwelcome thought reared its ugly head; the draftees will be after me as usual. It has been like that since day one.

Don't worry. John Cena is no coward. I could take all of them even with my hands tied or my eyes blindfolded. I know how to be different than anyone else even if it means offending them. A boy like me was born to stand out.

I still made no move to get up. There were still a few more hours before first period, but I couldn't wait to see Rey and Eddie. They must be totally ecstatic that they didn't get drafted too. I stood up, and then walked to the bathroom for a quick shower. A guy's gotta smell good, you know.

When I got out of the bathroom, I immediately dressed myself, a branded white shirt and black throwbacks—nothing really loud. I was putting on my padlocked chain necklace when the phone rang, startling me. I grabbed a Von-Dutch trucker hat before I charged to the phone, fumbling the cordless out of its cradle and into my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is John Cena there?"

It was something that I least expected—a voice of a girl'. I never really gave my number to anyone else but Rey, Eddie, and the Head Boy of the dorm. How can some girl' calls me now? Unless…

Oh, terrific. Maybe some of these puppy dog-eyed bimbos found my number in the SC phone directory. Damn it, which is why I hate putting a phone here in the first place!

I walked to the door with the phone still in my ear, thinking if this was nothing but a silly prank. Now my early high spirits were now set into a dead-end curiosity. "Who the fuck is this?"

"Awwww," the girl' whined. "You don't recognize your only sister's voice? I'm hurt."

The way she stressed those words only meant one thing. I stood there gaping for a few seconds, and then it all exploded afterwards.

"Haylie, you bitch!" I yelled. "Are you trying to kill me or what?"

The bitch now laughed. That's who she is, Haylie Cena, the usual goth girl wild child. Becoming sweet little sixteen in a "never been kissed" mode must be getting in her head. She seemed pleased with her little prank, the way she was tittering on the phone.

"You were expecting your little admirers, bro?"

I sat down in my bed, and I had the feeling that Haylie's been awake for a long time. "How did you know my number?"

"I have connections. There is—"

"Oh, don't tell me." I interrupted.

"Why are you being so touchy now?" Haylie asked darkly.

"Gee, I don't know," I returned sarcastically. "Maybe because it's the crack of dawn and you're calling me now for the first time in your life."

There was a pause. "Maybe I know more than you think."

"Of course you do. You practically know everything, oh-so-greatness." I said noncommittally.

A rustling came over the line, and I knew Haylie was struggling to sit up in her bed. "That's not true. And anyway I thought you'd be up. Shouldn't you be getting to class?"

"This is college, Haylie. Anyone who has half a clue on how to work things here has to be anywhere before ten."

"Is that true?"

I shrugged and sat down on my bed. "If you get real good, you take Mondays and Wednesdays off too."

Haylie paused again. "I guess school was fun. Sometimes. At least it got me out of the house."

I understood exactly what she meant. Haylie already started high school as a junior. I could tell from her tone that she couldn't wait to graduate and go to college. Or get a job. Anything that would get her out of our "home."

"How's college? Giving you any pressure lately?" Haylie asked.

"Not much."

"I guess with you as being athletic as you are, you're good enough for NFL," she suggested. "Better yet, why not have a major in music?"

I rolled my eyes. Me? Singing? No way will that happen.

"You do have a good rapping voice," Haylie insisted when she noticed my silence. "You can certainly make girls swoon, unlike that Eminem character. Plus, your raps really crack me up."

My lip curled. "No thanks. No choir person ever made the A-list."

"Are you saying that I sing badly?" she demanded.

"No," I fibbed. "Stop putting words in my mouth."

I was kidding, of course. Haylie has a nice voice, and she can sing, so she had recently formed a rock band called "Flypaper" when she was a sophomore. And ever since she was popular for performing in school dances and such, she was fought over by music classes and even school play directors.

Now it's my turn to ask. "How are Dad and Elsa? Giving you any pressure lately?"

"Ugh," said Haylie, clearly disgusted. "I couldn't stand that simpering Barbie doll Dad had married in."

"Why? What happened?"

"You know what happened at dinner last night? I just asked Dad what he did yesterday, and he said that he and my mother went grocery shopping. I laughed sarcastically and I said that I couldn't believe that my mother would risk breaking a nail actually shopping for groceries."

I smirked. "Your mother—that's a hot one."

"And you know what else?" Haylie continued. "I looked at Elsa and she looked like someone thrusted a giant gherkin up her ass, the way she was glaring at me, and Dad was like, 'That is no way to talk about your mother!' Can you just believe that?"

I laughed at Haylie's perfect imitation of Dad's growly voice. "Let me guess: she gave you a version of child psychology?"

"Worse. The bitch didn't even give me a good chewing out like any other normal parent, for fuck's sake." Haylie returned. "Not only that, Dad told me he didn't want me to end up like you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you! Dad said something's definitely wrong with your behavior."

I rolled my eyes again. "What's wrong with my behavior?"

Haylie chuckled. "Not that there's anything wrong with it…"

We talked a little more, about Haylie's classes, about boys and girls that she hates, and her continuous ramblings of living in one roof with Dad and Elsa. After that we have run out of things to talk, and it was replaced by long pregnant silence.

"Would you like to come over and stay for the weekend?" Haylie suddenly blurted out.

Who would? "You know I don't want to stay in that house when Dad and Elsa—"

"Not this weekend, silly," she said quickly. "Dad is going to Hawaii for some business trip, and he's taking Elsa. They'll be gone for three days."

"So you're gonna be alone?"

"Uh-huh."

The first word on my lips had been "no", except that I never said it. Three days alone in that house must be big for Haylie, and she did sound real desperate…

"Fine, I'll call you," I finally said. "I'm bringing some friends, if you don't mind that is."

"I don't mind," said Haylie. "Besides, hanging out with college kids would be good practice for me when I graduate high school. Just make sure they don't eat the furniture. Elsa might freak."

"Please. You don't know what kinds of morons I'm hanging out with."

Haylie chuckled. "I guess that's good enough. Oh, and John?"

"What?"

"It would be great to see you again. Thanks."

BEEP. She had hung up.

I took the phone back to its receiver, and then I finally put my hat and my shoes and stared out the window, watching as the sun breaking the pink clouds as the day broke.

It wasn't so bad living with Elsa and Dad, but it wasn't so great either. If only Dad hadn't accepted that stupid research position and moved us all here in California, it could have been a lot better. I thought back to when my parents were still together. Haylie and I had been at home then, and the whole family had lived in a killer house in Massachusetts, right next to a lake. Now my real mother still lived in Massachusetts, and Haylie and I are stuck in the Golden State with our clueless doctor father and his snobby, socialite bitch half my age. What was Dad thinking when he married that gold-digging piece of fluff?

And then there was Haylie, a subject all by itself. The close relationship she once had with Mom had been mortally wounded by the divorce and Elsa's daily presence was smothering the last sparks of life from its corpse. Despite all her nasty posturing, she really looked up to me like I was some source of her life or anything, but we both knew it wasn't the same. The only thing real about this family is the pain in the ass it gives me.

Then again, I have to give Haylie some credit. After all, she had to live in that Tudor mansion with Dad and that Barbie doll, and try to survive for the fittest without actually killing them both. I knew she was dying form the inside out, just like I was. It was funny how hard we kept these deaths a secret.

And then there was the "looking up to me" part. When I got my acceptance to SC, Haylie had been crushed.

I am only human after all.

Suddenly, someone pounded on my door. I tore my gaze from the window and walked to the doorway, opening it.

What I definitely didn't expect that it was our team captain Kurt Angle, dressed in his best shirt and khakis with a panicked expression in his face.

"Lumpy?" I said disbelievingly.

"Good. You're awake," Angle said breathlessly. "Meeting on the locker room. Go!"

Angle started to run off again, while I leaned on the door, stunned. "What's going on?"

"You'll find out soon," he said over his shoulder. "Oh, and get Guerrero and Mysterio with you. I don't know where their rooms are."

"Hey, Kurt—"

Too late. Angle immediately turned to the next corner of the corridor, leaving me standing alone in the hallway. I walked back to my room and picked up the flyer from the nightstand, and then I locked the door from the inside and slammed it shut. My steps sped up to the opposite direction of the hall, to the staircase where it leads to the third floor rooms are.

"Ok then. Time to wake Rey and Eddie up."

(t.b.c.)