Okay, well, here it is. Shorter, more refined. It may look like it's going one way, but I can assure you, if you choose to assume that, you'll make an ass of you and me.

I ACCEPT UNSIGNED REVIEWS!but prefer the signed ones…;)

Blowin' Smoke

"Scary Me"

I coughed loudly, waking myself, and reached down to grab the covers off. The sheets practically disintegrated at my touch, and I felt the dust where the blanket used to have been. I let out a groan and gave another cough. My life was all pixies and petunias, that was for sure.

To start off, I was grounded for not having gotten back by 11, or 10, or whenever my reasonable curfue had been. I had skipped it, not on perpose, of course, but day was maaaaad. I struggled out of my sheets and looked down at my poor hand. Cracked and brown-ish, red-ish black. I choked and waved the smoke away, unsuccessfully. The cracking had slowly vanished over the course of the night, as I rode on the back of Carl's dad's motorcyle at God knows what mach, trying to get home before 2am. I fought with my hair, tugging at it angrily. My throat was killing me, and I think I was coming down with a cold. I swatted again, annoyed at the smoke, and my hand was not normal yet. My dad would be thrilled, I thought as I looked over at my burnt sheets. He hated shopping for crap like that. I tried to pull on my shoe, and it's laces came into a knot. I fought with it, like it was a tiger rather then a shoe, than thrust it across the room, angerly, and letting out a yell. I was in SUCH a bad mood today.

"Robbie, you're gonna miss the bus!" My dad yelled from the kitchen, and that, for reasons unknown, made me want to hit something. I ground my teeth and headed out of my smoky room. "What were you doing up there?" He wanted to know.

"None of you business, okay?" I snarled back.

"Young lady, don't use that tone with me…" I heard the clear warning and backed down, shoving the door open and slamming it behind me. In turn, I nearly tripped down the steps, and grunted, again, angery "Uhhhh!", loud as I could, slamming my foot down on the steps, as though I would be punishing their cement form somehow. The bus pulled into view.

I climbed on said bus, and really, really wanted to sit alone, but I saw an open seat beside Jenna and decided that it would be approprate to take it. She glanced over at me as we took off.

"What's wrong with you?" She wanted to know.

"Nothing." I mumbled. Thank God it was Friday, I felt my now normal hand. What was its' deal?

At school I managed through English and chemistry without making eye-contact or having to talk with anyone. I might have bitten their innocent little head off. Unfortionatly, as I trudged to geometry, I was put into another strangely awkward situation. If that's what one would call it.

First of all, I had no clue where geometry was, seeing as my "head-injuries" had gotten in the way of me ever having it. So I began to try every door up and down math hall. This is one thing, I later wished, I had never had the bright idea of doing. As I headed, innocently, into one of the various math classrooms, which, might I add, had no markings on the doors, I happened upon a scene I never wanted to see. There, on one of the desks, was one of the Goth-girl's freaky friends making out with the one-and-only, Warren Peace. I think I made a little gagging noise, as he shoved his tongue down her throat. Both heads snapped in my direction, and I pulled my head out and slammed the door.

To be honest, I never knew I could move that fast, or get that lost in the crowd of students in the halls switching classes, but I did, in a mad attempt to avoid Goth and Warren. I shot away, but even now I could hear voices shouting.

"Hey!" A particularly loud one commanded. "MOVE!" And the sea of students parted as both the interrupted got a clear view of lil' ol' me. God! What the hell was wrong with me today! Nothing was going frickin' RIGHT!

"What!" I snapped, surprising myself. "You and your little girlfriend can have all the privacy you want, just go back in." My tone was condescending and sarcastic, and neither looked as though they appreciated it.

"You little bitch!" The girl cried and turned to her knight in shinning armor, "fry her!"

His response was too fast for comfort, as he threw a fireball at my head, moving up. I ducked, and faced him, as everyone watched. What the heck was wrong with me? I was gonna get pounded! I searched for my desire to run and all I wanted to do was fight!

He threw another and came up so he stood right in front of my, about a foot taller, too. His hands lit up in fire, and I could fell the smoke pour into the air.

"Whatcha gonna do, blow smoke at me?" He sneered.

"No…"I watched myself speak, as though on TV. "And you ain't seen nothin' yet."

I grabbed a hold of his burning hand crushing it, as my hand hardened about it, and I felt no flames. He let out a cry, squinting his eyes closed and trying to back away, but the scary me was not going to let that happen. The scary me took my other hand and ripped his head back by his hair, then released both, and kicked him backward, in the stomach. Then the scary me then moved to stand over him, as he withered in pain, holding his burnt flesh. The air felt thick around me, and I realized that the smoke had gathered about, and was heading into his lungs, as he choked on it, and I finally released, as the smoke vanished into the air. He turned to his side and threw up, violently, like he had been on crack or dead-drunk. I felt myself walk away, as Jenna hurried to catch up, and everyone watched as we turned the corner.

"Robbie, what was that?" She looked in shook. I disintegrated to the floor, against the locker, and tears that I could barely feel ran down my face. I wasn't sad, yet I was falling apart.

"Oh God, I don't know what happened! I'm totally scitzo, aren't I?" I was crying and she watched me in a strange horror. She was probably terrified of me now; I would be, heck, I was! "I want to go home…", I moaned, hitting the back of my head against a locker, in the empty hall. My hands shook and I groaned, turning my head as the felt vomit come into my mouth like a bad food. What was with me? What was with the scary me?

So, if I get reviews? I'll write more! And if I don't? I'll still write more!(But I prefer the first option…)

-me