Disclaimer and full summary in chapter one. Hope you enjoy!

Samantha sat on one of the highly comfortable chair in Abbey Private School's Principal's Office. It was one of those stylish black leather chairs, plenty of room for big people. You know, the ones normal people can't ever afford? Yeah.

Her mom sat on her right, while her dad sat on her left, positively beaming. She smiled up at both of them, loving the fact that she could make them proud. During the last week since she got her acceptance letter, they called the school and set up an appointment to meet with the principal, order her uniform, register her for school, all that fun stuff her parents get to do. Her parents also called their relatives and pretty much bragged to everyone. Not very surprising, but she hoped that they didn't seem like they were rubbing the wrong way.

From the little she's seen of the school so far, it looked very big and stylish. The school had three stories as far as she knew. The first floor had the gym, the auditorium, the cafeteria, the office and teacher's lounge, along with the language classes and some other assorted electives. The second floor had the required classes, like English, Math, History, and Science, and the top floor has the rest of the elective classes along with a lounge area for kids to relax in. There were lots of bulletin boards along all the walls and was subtly decorated, just enough to notice the elegance to everything.

The Principal's office was furnished the same way. It was an average sized room, painted a warm, dull forest green, with black and blue furnishings in it, matching what looked like the school's colors. It looked like what a public school's office might look like, but with slight hints to designer. In front of the three identical chairs Sam's dad, mom, and herself sat in was a wooden desk that took up almost a third of the room. Behind them was a small black leather couch her brother was sitting on, and filing cabinets took up the rest of the space in the room.

The door opened and their attention landed on the older man stepping through the room.

"I'm sorry for the wait," he said. He closed the door and walked over to stand behind his desk. He was a big man too, looking like he was in his 60's. His white hair didn't reach the top of his head, only growing on the sides of his head and meeting around in the back. A small black hat sat on his head, covering most of his bald spot. A bushy mustache lay above his mouth, and glasses rested on his nose. He smiled at them, looking very, very friendly.

"Oh, it's no problem," Sam's Mom assured the older man, standing up along with her dad. Her brother and herself followed suit. They all took turns shaking his hand, and waited until he sat down to do so themselves.

"Well, my name is Mr. Dickenson, and this must be Samantha Starnette, our new student." He smiled at Sam and she smiled back.

"Yep, that's her!" her dad confirmed with a huge grin and both her parents and Principal Dickenson laughed.

"So, I suppose the first thing that we should do is create your schedule, Miss Samantha."

"You can call me Sam, if you want," she corrected politely. She's been called Sam all her life, and being addressed as Samantha is kind of weird for her.

"All right then, Sam" - he handed her a piece of paper - "here's a list of all the elective classes that you can join as a Freshman. If you could pick a class for me, then I'll try to fit it in with your required classes."

She skimmed down the long list and immediately decided on one once she saw it. "Creative Writing?"

"Ah," he started, reaching for the paper. "that's one not a lot of people decide on."

"Well, I want to be an author when I get out of high school, maybe even beforehand, if possible," she said, blushing and fidgeting in her chair.

"Well, then Creative Writing is the class for you." He got up from his chair and walked toward the door. "Let me just give your elective to the secretary and she'll get your schedule ready for you." He slipped out of the room, leaving it slightly ajar. Sam sent another warm smile up to her parents and they smiled back.

"This couch is comfortable," her brother whispered behind her.

"This chair is comfortable," Sam whispered back, smiling at her brother's randomness.

Principal Dickenson slipped back inside the room and started talking to her parents about all the inevitable paperwork. Uniform sizes, when school starts and lets out - which is at 8:00 am and 3:00 pm - supply list, and other stuff that she wasn't able to keep up with. Then he turned to Sam and told her about all the extracurricular activities the school offered - she immediately crossed any sports off her list of possible events she would partake in, and screamed 'HELL NO' in her head as he listed off cheerleading - the class schedule, honor role requirements, and school dance rules. He made sure he didn't forget one single thing.

The door opened then and the secretary handed Principal Dickenson a piece of paper. He thanked her then handed Sam the paper after she left the room. "Here's your schedule, Sam. She was able to get Creative Writing as one of your classes."

She looked it over and got up automatically when she saw her parents getting up out of the corner of her eye. They both took turns shaking Mr. Dickenson's hand again before he wished Sam good luck at the school. She thanked him, smiled, then followed her parents out of the principal's office and the school altogether, trying to make sure she got all her ogling out of the way so she didn't look like an overexcited tourist on her first day of school.

That would be sooooo awkward, not to mention stupid of me and I'll look idiotic as well, she thought, imagining everyone's judging expressions as they thought that she was crazy.

About ten minutes later, after searching through the part of town they have rarely ever went to - there was really no need to; everything on this side of town was far too expensive - Sam's mother pulled into a small restaurant's parking lot, deciding to eat dinner there before going home. It looked cheap enough. Both her parents still had an excited air about them, anticipating telling everyone they knew that didn't know yet about their daughter's accomplishment. Sam was starting to get a bit embarrassed; her parents had been praising her on this for the past week - far, far too long for her liking.

They stepped in and looked around. To their left was a series of six or seven booths lined the walls and the windows. A few long tables sat in the middle of them all for some of the bigger groups, and to their right laid a long counter top where about six stools were. Sam saw an Asian boy, probably not too much older than she was, sitting behind the counter, chin resting in his palm, staring off into space, looking bored out of his mind. He looked up when he heard the door open and stuck a small smile on. It looked half-forced and half-grateful that there was something for him to do now. He had very, very long black hair, longer than even Sam had, pulled back into a long braid with some framing his face and sticking up into spikes and striking yellow cat-like eyes that looked almost too natural to be contacts. All in all, Sam had to admit that he was good-looking. Not out loud, of course, in front of her parents and brother who would have a field day with that information.

"You can go ahead and sit wherever you like," he said, reaching for some menus. They walked to a random booth close to where they walked in and the teenager followed, giving them their menus then taking their drink orders. Sam's mom and dad started talking about what kinds of food the restaurant had and Sam and her brother stayed quiet, listening to their parents, sipping at their drinks, and starting a kicking war under the table. By the time the food came, Sam's legs sorely hurt and she was sure her brother's did too. The black-haired, yellow-eyed teenager - whose name she learned was Ray - left their food and walked off, sitting at the counter and resuming whatever he was doing before we came in. Whatever it was, he was still bored.

A few moments later, it seemed like he was saved from it for a little bit when a young man, although much older than the teenager, walked up behind him and smacked him in the back of the head.

"Hey! Roy! What was that for?" the teenager yelled, more angry than hurt.

"You, Ray. Stop sulking, you look pitiful. The least you could do is stand outside in the middle of the street and make people stop here and eat," the man said, an amused smirk on his face. He had black hair as well, only much shorter, passing just an inch or two past his chin, with a style much like Ray's and the same yellow eyes. In fact, they looked like brothers.

"Ha ha, so funny, then I can blame you when I get run over," Ray replied, sarcasm lacing his tone.

"Eh, you'll live," Roy simply said. "You know, if you're so miserable here, then find someone else to take your place for after-school and such."

This piqued Sam's interest. She had been looking for a job. Maybe here? It actually wasn't that far from the school. She could just walk here when school let out then walked back home when she could. She was planning on asking a few questions about the job as her parents paid for the meal, but as her mom paid the bill, she couldn't quite find the courage and words to ask. She wasn't really sure if her parents would even approve of her wanting to work.

She'd have to ask later, maybe with those puppy-dog eyes and the pout that usually could win over her dad. That would work! She spent the rest of the way home thinking of the best way to ask her parents about getting that job… And smacking her brother every time he decided to be obnoxious.