A/N: Once again, thank you for all the reviews. I really was shocked by this wave of support. So, as a reward, I think you're going to like this chapter. I was coming up with ideas all through my mega boring classes.

Elemental Dragon Slayer: Trolion' is just trollin' in a funny accent. :P

Freefalling

Chapter Two – Worship My Solo

Ella's POV Tuesday

"Get up El – WHOOP!" I hear a girlish yelp and a moment later, my shoulder connects with the hard ground. Ow, ow ow ow. What the heck was that? Looking up, I realise that I just fell off the top bunk in my bedroom. A face sheepishly peers over the mattress at me. "You'll be late for school?" she shrugs, grinning nervously.

"MAX! I'll kill you!" I screech, reaching for the ladder, only to be whacked under the chin by the bottom rung when my evil half-sister pulls it up to stop me from climbing up and strangling her. Ouch! How many times Max?

"WHOOP!" she smacks her hand to her lips, eyes widening like manholes. "I'm sorry – here!" she chucks something down, and it clocks me over the head. OUCH! I pick it up and realise it's a tube of concealer, probably for the bruise that's sure to come up on my chin, and my shoulder, and my head. And anywhere else she can think to attack me before I can even get downstairs.

"Don't kill me, I've got music today!" I squeal, running into the bathroom. Once I'm in, I lock the door and find an empty bottle of Liquid Chestnut hair dye lying in the bathtub. I hadn't noticed, but she must've dyed her hair last night. After quickly washing my face, I open the makeup cupboard and clear most of the contents of my shelf onto the window sill. Carefully I apply some tan eye shadow, liquid eyeliner and a brush of mascara. Then I rub in some foundation under my eyes to take away the blue tint of sleep. When I roll a pad over my bronzing pearls and tilt my head up to brush it under my cheekbones, I see a bruise blossoming under my chin, and decide to use some of Max's concealer too.

Speaking of Max, I never told her when my school day starts, so how would she know when to wake me up? Oh well, I think, dismissing the thought. Mom probably asked her to get me out of bed in the morning. There's nothing to worry about.

I peek out of a crack in the door, and don't see Max anywhere around, so I hastily sprint down the hallway between the bathroom and my bedroom. She isn't in here either, so she won't be able to stab me while I change. My bedroom is really a mess. There's only just enough room to open the door or it would hit the unmade bunk bed, there are open books on the floor which fell out of my unorganised book case, and the curtains are hanging from a few clips (the ones I haven't lost). Wait, where did that carpet stain come from… come to think of it, those empty Relentless cans are new too. Gosh, she's trashing the house already.

I walk up to my wardrobe, and open it to find everything in order, but it's just a matter of time before she starts stealing from me. I take out a white stretch tee with a green Space Invader on the front, a pair of navy blue shorts and some navy blue Toms. After slipping them on, I skip down the stairs to find the smell of fresh homemade pancakes and hot butter waft around me. Ooh, mmm.

In the kitchen, my mom is shifting a pan full of batter, and Max is stuffing her face with something sugary. In the light, I can see that she dyed her hair. The colour goes well with her black-leather oriented outfit. She's wearing one-quarter length shorts, a sleeveless belly corset and washed out black combat boots. I'm slightly surprised by it because she normally tries to wear 'Maxine' sort of things that Maximum wouldn't choose.

"Erro Emma!" she calls cheerily through a mouthful of syrup-coated batter. Of course, Max is always cheery when she's got pancakes.

"Morning dear." My mom says, not looking up from her pan. "I have some good news. Max has en–"

"Maw mawm!" Max shakes her head frantically at my mom. "I'w tew hew water."

"If you say so, hun. Well, she'll tell you later then," my mom smiles at me warmly, her eyelids crinkling up when she looks in my direction. She hands me a plate stacked with sugared pancakes and shoos me into the living room. I wonder what news Max would have for me, which begins with 'en'? She was en…lightened, and became a Hindu. No, she's not religious. She en…countered my long lost twin on a trip to the local Tesco Express. No, I never had a twin. She's en…gaged? No, she's single.

Well, whatever it is, she's going to tell me later.

- - time skip - -

It's lunch time, and thank goodness, because I'm starving. I haven't had anything since breakfast, which was hours ago. As I walk out of my classroom, I bump into someone, literally.

"I'm so sorry – oh, Iggy." I sigh, steadying myself on his chest. For some reason, he seems to enjoy the gesture.

"It's alright. I was waiting for you. Come on," he smiles serenely, taking my hand off his chest and leading me down the stairs. He waited for me? We usually just walk alone to the court, because we know that's where everyone else will be. That was really sweet of him to stay there; I was out five minutes late any way, having to finish off my conclusion or face a detention that I really didn't need with Max around. See, this is the kind of thing he does for me when nobody else is watching. It's why he's just so irresistible. "So, noticed anything new lately?" he asks, and quickly I check his hair and shirt in case he's hinting at something that I should have seen before.

"No?" I say hesitantly, not wanting to put him off. He chuckles lightly, granting me a spurt of confidence.

"I didn't get a haircut, Ells. I know how much you love my hair as it is," he says it as a joke, but I can't help but think to myself: it's true. I do love his hair, I always have. I'm attracted to red. "No, I was talking about student-wise. I wanted to know if you'd seen anybody new, or am I just seeing things?"

"What do you mean?" I ask. As I look up at him from my feet, I glance our hands, which are still intertwined, and a hot blush dances on my cheeks.

We're walking on the gravel playground now, passing the crowd of populars on my left. "Count them," he says simply, shrugging his shoulder towards them. I look at their heads, and sure enough, there's an extra brunette today. I wonder where she came from, and how she got into that crowd so quickly. It surely should take weeks to be accepted into the populars, and what's more, she seems to be the centre of attention. After those weeks of warming up to them, it would take even longer to travel off the side-lines and into the middle.

As she turns, I see her outfit. It's simple, stylish, and exactly what Max was wearing this morning.

When mom started to tell me that Max had 'en…', she didn't mean enlightened, or encountered, or engaged.

She meant, enrolled.

- - time skip - -

Music is my last lesson, and I'm really looking forward to it, until I walk in and see a gaggle of the scattered populars in this class. I slide in next to Iggy and am about ask what's going on out of the side of my mouth, until Mr Henson coughs to get his class' attention. "Settle down, kids," he says, sitting back on his spinney chair. The crowd breaks down, and I see what, or who, was at the centre.

Max. With her now-chestnut locks tumbling down her leather-clad back, and her edgy rocker boots crossed, she looks truly out of place to all of us… regular people. Even to those oblivious to how famous she really is, she seems more like she should be on a movie set or at a photo shoot than in a classroom. Yet, she looks at home amongst all these instruments, and I'm pretty much the only one in here who knows why.

"So, class, I've been having some requests. I take that most of you want to learn how to play the guitar, yes?" he asks, raising a bushy white eyebrow. Murmurs and quiet nods spread like a wildfire. "Does anybody know how to play?" he skims over his student history sheet, which tells him where he should be grading each of us. I looked at it once before, but I couldn't figure it out because of the student-proof layout. "Maxine?"

"Uh yeah, I guess." She mumbles in that Texan voice I know so well. Glancing to my side, I see Iggy watching intently and feel a small pang in the pit of my stomach. The buckles of her boots click together awkwardly as she strides up front and centre, then turns around, looking a little lost.

"Just choose a guitar, dear, and show us how you play." Said Mr Henson encouragingly, and Max catches my eye. I shrug subtly and give her a look that says 'just whatever you do, don't sing'. As my half-sister tentatively picks up a guitar, I look around the classroom to see what all the uncharacteristic hush is about. They're all watching her closely, like hungry animals – but not to laugh at her if she slips up. They look more… worshipping. How did that happen?

And suddenly, Max begins to play.