"What the fuck's up with this school? Everyone looks at us like aliens."

Against our better judgment, when Temari drops into our circle the next day with a carton of camels and a bottle of whiskey, we don't kick her out. Kankuro follows her and when we ask where the little one is, he shrugs.

"Out terrorizing someone, I guess."

He takes the first sip of whiskey and the talk starts.

"I guess things weren't so up-tight at your last school—no one supports the K.S. out loud," says Kiba. "Even those Pussy Goth-Rebels wouldn't welcome you, no matter what they say about fighting the man and shit, though you could try the hard-core Emos—they're too depressed to worry about being arrested."

"Goths, Emos—what's the difference?" says Temari.

I grab her arm before she can move and push up the mesh sleeve.

"That's the difference."

She snaps her arm back and pulls the thin net back over the black marks on her forearm.

Kankuro takes another swig and Shikamaru watches her with more conscious eyes.

"Oh, yeah--you'd get along fine," he teased knowingly. The Emo's have become the most famous of drug pushers among the school."

"I find that hard to believe," she says, looking pointedly at the genius who still smells of this morning's cannabis.

"No one here makes it obvious if they have a problem. They just cover it up in makeup and social events," I offer. "Why do you think no one likes us?"

"Like I care what people think of me," she murmurs, eyes averted.

"I ran into a guy today who made me think of you guys," says Kankuro. I like his voice—it's rich like a performer's but still young like him. "He said something about the back of the gym being where we belonged. I couldn't place it but there was something in his eyes that made me think of you," he directs this part at me and I turn away.

I know what in Sasuke would remind Kankuro of me.

"You should avoid him. He and the white-eyed guy—their families will tear yours apart."

Both brother and sister grin bitterly.

"Gaara already did that."

I decide not to ask what they mean and we finish off the contraband in group silence.


"Fucking moron," Sasuke spits.­

I crash to the ground and my head hits the lockers, hard.

Despite the fact that he's taken sports and martial arts for years, Sasuke never throws a punch if he can pay someone to do it for him. Neji stands on his right and Sakura dangles off his left arm like an expensive ornament. All three wear textbook definitions of sneers as their cronies move in to finish the job.

Sakura looks better when she's sobbing to my lap.

I don't know why I don't spill her secrets—

The big guy on the left lifts me by my collar and smashes my face into the cool metal of the lockers.

—I could tell them to Sasuke and he'd never touch her again—

The one on the right slams another fist into my ribs.

—But maybe it's the same reason I know she won't warn him when the time comes.

I am dropped and a third one I'd almost forgotten kicks me in the kidney, making me curl up like a baby.

"Fucking freak," she hisses and the boys smile. A girl with Nazi-perfect features, who laughs at the sight of me, though just last night she had been begging me to help her friend, joins them. She invites them to join her in a jaunt off campus to a restaurant with prices-per-plate equal to my rent.

I breathe a sigh of relief as they leave and loosen my teeth from around my bleeding tongue.

Oh, yes; just you wait Uchiha. Just you wait…You'll be the very first to go...

Three days later, Shikamaru and Temari show up late smelling of sex and weed. Kiba hoots, Kankuro raises a brow, and even Shino's lips tilt upwards when I compliment Shikamaru's choice in lipstick.

I notice Chouji's face go dark, darker still when the two keep their hands together and Temari steals the seat at Shika's side.

A storm is gathering over those three, and I wonder who will come out of it unscathed.


As per government-ordered curriculum, when we were children we were told about right and wrong.

Rebelling against the government was wrong.

Discussing politics was wrong.

Accepting religion into our lives—especially one based on Christ—that was right.

Being a good little consumer and buying everything was good.

Supporting or harboring illegal material that went against government censors—that was very wrong.

After the basic rules of "Government approved behavior" were explained, we were told about the little components, especially "Don't ask, don't tell."

I remember one kid asked, "Is it wrong for one guy to kiss another guy?"

The funny thing was, when the teacher told us we had to "decide that for ourselves", I got the impression that he was saying something else. Maybe it was the way he looked like he wanted to puke?


"I have a boyfriend!" Iruka tells me one day. He grins like a child sitting before an ice-cream sundae, and I'm reminded how young he still is.

He can't be more than twenty-six, I think.

A wave of nervous dread sweeps over me, but I try to hide it with an encouraging smile.

"Who's the lucky guy?"

He's the only other gay guy here. Please, Iruka--don't say--

"It's Mr. Hatake--you know; the Health Teacher? He asked me to dinner the other night--it was wonderful!" He gushes like a teenie-bopper, making it hard to keep my lunch down.

God help my patience--Kakashi Hatake of all people!

I wish I could make this a good thing. Iruka doesn't make his lifestyle public, so it's hard for him to get a date. But there is nothing on this earth that could make me see past the fact that Kakashi is one of the worst scumbags on campus, and an ASSES unto himself.

As Iruka fills me in on the details he will never dare share with his fellow teachers, I bite back my scathing comments and tell him congratulations.

Another Tuesday down the drain.


About three weeks into September, when only Shino and Kiba and I have bothered to show up, Lee joins us with tears in his eyes and a limp, trying to hide bruises by pulling at an even thicker sweater.

We know what happened, so no one says anything when he curls up into a silently sobbing ball for the first two classes. When the bell rings, we wordlessly help him to the nurse, Shizune, and look away when she takes off his shirt and gasps.

"Oh my lord! What happened to you Lee?!"

In a flawless lie, he announces, "I was perfecting my leaping mantis kick for my epic competition against our eternal rivals from Rivison! I believe I misjudged my own awesome strength and flew too far, for I landed in a pile of weights."

It's a surprisingly believable explanation. Lee's been known to get himself into trouble when he trains. Once, he pulled a hamstring so badly he wasn't able to walk for a week but when we found him, he was forcing himself to do double the weight lifting to make up for it.

And people suspect me of having a loose screw.­


"How do your ribs feel?" asks Chouji the next day. Shikamaru and Temari are missing again, and Kiba's busy whining about Hinata to a silent Shino who reads a book with his fingers under the table.

I try to tune out the exuberant way he claims he's all right--Lee's "The power of youth is invincible" boasts remind me too much of my own smiling mask.

Neji and Sasuke leave us alone for most of the week, probably so that Neji can heal from the mirrors of the injuries he inflicted on Lee.

There is a well-known rule in the Hyuuga family: for each hit the company takes, Neji takes a bruise. For every point Byakugan Inc. stock loses, one of their relatives loses feeling in a limb.

There is also a well known rule in the loser circle--when your enemies are made to suffer, they will find a way to make you suffer equal to their pain, double their humiliation.

I think that's called projecting, right?

So when Uchiha & Company's competitors buy out a major deal soon after Lee goes back to practice, I'm not surprised when Sasuke's frustration bleeds into my life. Literally.

"You fucker! You fucker, you fucker, you fucker, you fucker, you fucker, YOU FUCKER! You're a mistake! You're a pathetic mistake and you'll never be worth anything! You should have been drowned at birth! I bet your mother tried and screwed up so bad you became stupid! Aargh!"

He accentuates each statement and "you fucker" with a crushing fist to my gut, my face, and anywhere else he can reach. If I didn't have Neji and a guy named Sakon sitting on my arms and legs, Sasuke would be dead right now.

I would slice his throat open with my teeth or squeeze his neck until his head popped like a balloon. Strip the veins out of his body or feed him the marrow from his own bones.

Such sweet thoughts let me slip into unconsciousness without much of a fuss, even as blood begins to fill my mouth.


Strangely enough, Gaara Shukaku is the first person I meet when I come to.

He steps out of an ally on my way home, scaring me so badly I choke on my own spit.

As if everything didn't ache already, now my head is threatening me. Why this guy? I don't have the patience for him.

"Weak. You are so weak..." His voice is like hoarse nails on a chalkboard.

Now I know I just got the hell beaten out of my bones (as Kiba would be want to say), I'm barely standing up, and that I'm in no condition to fight, but I have any flaw, it's in my pride.

I will not be called weak.

"Go shoot yourself, you piece of shit!"

A weighted fist (probably holding a roll of quarters) lodges itself in my gut, and I double over seeing black dots.

­Another flaw would be in my common sense.

"Weak sack of fleshy meat made for Mother's appetite...!"

Oh, Jesus.

I know that look. It's one of anger, of hate, of rage; he's like me, but warped. Really, really warped.

He's forgotten how to be great, been swallowed by the anger, and let the blood lust wake up. Shit, even I know better than to let that happen; blood is like fairy food to us—one taste and you'll never crave anything else again.

His eyes get wide and he grins like a nut on crack, drawing back his fist for another punch.

But another voice makes both of us freeze.

"What's going on here?"

Well, goodie goodie gumdrops. TenTen Mizugawa--the local deputy chief-of-police's daughter and captain of the archery team. She's not a loser by any means, but she's enough of a nosey-do-gooder that she'd help Typhoid Mary if she were in trouble. And she's got enough muscle on her to knock Gai (the gym teacher) out with a well-placed volleyball spike.

I swear to God, I left all my luck in another life.

I meet Gaara's eyes and give him a look all troublemakers know. The "keep your mouth shut and I'll bail us out" look. Gaara doesn't want to trust me, I can tell, but he doesn't have much of a choice and I plan on making this benefit me one way or another.

"I got mugged. Gaara was just going to take me to my place to get fixed up. Right?"

He refuses; she'll catch on and find a way to blame my injuries on Gaara. He agrees and she'll follow us until we get somewhere she decides is safe.

TenTen's just that kind of person.

"Right," he says suspiciously. Wait for it...

"I'll help you." And she slips my arm over her shoulders, waiting for Gaara to do the same.

Ha. Knew it.

Gaara just glares at me.