Black eyeliner.

Knee-high black, laced up boots.

Brown hair with a blue stripe down the side.

She wore a cami with a small, red, fitting, stomach showing shirt over top, and a black skirt, with her striped socks reaching up above her boots.

Her fingernails were painted black, and had scabs from her biting them down to basically nothing.

If you'd called her a goth she'd punch your lights out, but nobody ever got brave enough to get that close to her, though it was usually the tattoo on her arm that had people steering clear of her, for it said in bold, dark letters "BITE ME" where everyone could see it.

Rory Gilmore was rebelling.

After her mother had died 2 years before, the day before she was set to go to Yale… She was depressed. Then angry, and pushing everyone away from herself, she'd went to live in Hartford. It was the only place where she could be alone, considering her grandparents just gave her the poolhouse.

And then she'd decided to express her emotions. That's when her grandparents had stopped talking to her. They didn't even achknowledge her. She was "the girl living in the poolhouse", which was code for, "our disgrace of a granddaughter who could possibly be worse than her mother".

She liked it better like that, anyway.

So, here she was, sitting in the little coffee shop, taking a drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke in rings to amuse herself, while ladies in pink pantsuits and over-hair-sprayed hair gasped at her disapprovingly. Whatever.

Taking a sip of her coffee, she looked out the window, and watched some girls in their Chilton school uniforms walk by, chatting happily, and subtly throwing glances at the 3 men across the street from them. She could hear their giggling as they passed the café she was in, and it made her feel even more depressed to remember when she'd gone there herself. Mind you, she didn't walk down Hartford with her best pals, since her mom was a little too old to go to her school, and Lane didn't have the money, nor the mother to go.

She sighed, and told herself she couldn't cry. Her eyeliner would run, and then she probably wouldn't even get the waitress to refill her cup because she'd be so scared of her. Hartford was so typical.

Ding Dong

She heard the little bell at the door, that signaled someone coming in, and saw the guys from across the street stroll in like they owned the place or something.

Actually, everyone sort of walked in like that. Except for her. She kind of just… you know, clomped in or whatever. Boots like hers did that to a depressed girl. Of course, she wasn't really trying to be impressive, was she?

"3 coffee's please", she heard one of them say. He was blonde, and was eyeing the waitress, which in turn made her blush.

Before she could make a sarcastic little comment inside her head, whereforth she would chuckle and collect stares from everyone around her, someone sat infront of her.

She closed her lids, and turned her head slowly to the person sitting there, and opened them to see one of the 3 guys, smirking at her. He had brown hair, and very tan skin. He didn't look very intimidated by her.

"Hi, my name's Finn", he said, reaching his hand out to shake hers. What the hell? These rich kids all thought they were number one or something.

She raised her eyebrow at him and took another drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke in his face, while leaning back and crossing her legs. Like she was actually going to give him her name.

"I like your top", he said, when the smoke had cleared and grinned some more, leaning his arms on the table. She rolled her eyes and looked at his friends who were at the counter, laughing at them. This Finn, or her, she couldn't decide.

"C'mon Finn, leave the pot-smoking emo girl to herself, I saw some other girls down the street from here" said one of his friends, who also had brown hair, walking over and handing this Finn guy his coffee. The blonde followed, smiling at her.

"Call me emo again, and I'll make sure those girls run screaming next time they lay eyes on you", she said icily to the one who'd said the very thing. He looked a little shocked at her, but quickly recovered his cocky air.

"So she talks", said Finn again, and she put her feet down, and pulled her bag over her shoulder and got up to ask the waitress to put her coffee in a to-go cup, while taking another drag.

They followed her to the counter, and she was getting sort of pissed off now, so she turned a little, so her Bite Me tattoo was in clear sight of their eyes.

She could hear them laughing, and sighed angrily, pushing her cup harshly to the girl behind the counter, who wasn't sure whether to smile at the guys behind her, or stay totally neutral around Rory.

"To-go cup, please", she said, staring at her, and smiling meanly, and she scurried off to the other side with her cup.

"So, can I get your number?" She turned around to face the 3 guys again, and Rory decided to just tell them off.

"Please, leave me alone, and go off and have a party with one of your blonde bimbos, whom I'm sure will gladly give you their number. Thanks." She turned back around, grabbed the cup that the waitress was handing her with a trembling hand, and stalked out of the café, making sure she didn't clomp this time.