Hey guys. We're back with another chapter. And to Gnome: I will think about your idea but I can't promise that I'll write it.

And some of you have been concerned with the idea of Christine having powers. She's not going on missions or anything, but later in this story you'll see that she may not have powers, her dad kind of did some tricks.

So yeah. That's what we (sterlingismyknight and I) have come to for this chapter.

Christine's Pov

Sundays were always my day. I just loved coming down stairs to my dad sitting there with his Sunday paper and usual steamy coffee cup. It was one of the only days on the weekends that he was actually home. The house-bigger than needed, is what I think- always seemed vacant when the sounds of his clanking and clicking didn't come from his office/lab in the attic. The hums coming from Rem moving back and forth, to and fro were kinda quiet.

In simple words: it was a little eerie at times when he wasn't it around.

"Morning sweetie," Rem called from her spot at the stove. A delightful aroma came from the skillet: omelet. And my favorite kind too- I loved its taste with the cheese, mushrooms, and slight garlic on my taste buds.

"My favorite!" I rushed down the rest of the stairs, taking them two at a time. I swung my body onto my bar stool, waiting for my plate eagerly. Rem let out a laugh- human and soft like her voice; it's hard to remember that dad had given her a humane voice when you know how she looks for such a long time.

Rem placed a navy blue plate in front of me. My omelet, a piece of (slightly burnt) toast layered in thick blanket of peanut butter, sausage, and a tall, narrow glass of orange juice. "Thank you," I said kindly before picking up my fork and shoveling the food into my mouth.

"So what are you planning to do today?" she asked from the other side of the counter. "Meeting Bree and some of her friends at the mall," I responded, swallowing the food to speak. I washed it down with a few gulps of juice.

"You've seem to have made a big impression at your new school," Rem stated while giving me a look; I still was trying to figure out how she could look so robotic but still give knowing looks whenever needed. Shrugging, my plate seemed much more interesting. "Especially with that young man. The one who took you out yesterday?"

There was something that set me off about Rem at times-it was weird that her brain was part computer, which were much more observant, logical, and straight-forward than the normal human mind; that's why she always knew me to the core without even trying. My plate was now almost empty- I was running out of distractions. I glanced around the room, looking for a way to escape this conversation before it got more awkward than it should've been. Finally I set my gaze on the clock, with its hands ticking slowly: 10:27.

"I need to get ready. Meeting them at 11:00," I stated, hands moving quickly to stuff the dirty, empty dishes into the sink in a rapid motion before hurriedly hopping up the stairs.

Bree hadn't said what we would be doing. But considering that it's Bree, the mall, and who girly the girls had seemed when she described her friends, it would most likely be shopping and browsing, forced to try on different varieties of clothes that only satisfy them.

Yeah, I've been through this before.

She had also warned me that her friends were a little picky with appearances. They thought you couldn't be seen with just anybody. "I consider you a close friend," she'd said sincerely. "But the girls aren't ones for sarcastic humor and wittiness. Mostly because they can't do it themselves." So keeping her warnings and words in mind, I chose my outfit carefully. Flipped and re-flipped through clothes quickly, skimming fabrics and belts mildly.

Finally it was decided: a purple V-neck under a grey leather jacket and jean shorts with combat boots. Jewelry was tricky, but I just slapped on a simple star necklace hanging on a leather string with a beaded bracelet. My hair was pulled into a simple braid.

These were girls- loved gossip, drama, boys, and shopping. Obsessed with whatever 'dirt' they could get on someone and made sure the whole world knew about it in less than ten minutes; the world ended if they didn't have a hot date to a dance and their dress was horrid.

Ugh.

And plus the fact that girly girls considered you 'BFFS!' the minutes you meet, I packed my purse (black, leather, and had a long chain connected) with cinnamon gum, my plaid wallet, and phone. It took a decent amount of time of mental debating, but I decided on bringing my IPod and a pad of sticky notes and a pen in case I was ill with boredom.

I flashed my hand at Rem on my way out; informed her I had no clue when I would be back. The mall was about a mile from my house which was just on the brink of downtown where everything was. I pulled out my bike, hopped on and started pedaling. There was something about the wind whipping my hair back, hearing the normal noises of a happy neighborhood that relaxed me to a point my mind was blank; a piece of fresh paper, unlettered with doodles and mindless tacked-on thoughts. Time passed, the normal fifteen minutes flying by too quickly for a biker's-like me, obsessed with the quite time that was prized with it-liking.

Bree was waiting outside the mall entrance by a group of rose bushes out front. The mall was big: three stories tall, complete brick except for out front where the walls near the revolving door were complete glass, showing the people inside. With her, I counted four girls- Bree stood a little away from them, waiting for me to grace them with my presence.

She excitedly pointed me out after watching me lock my bike to the bike rack stride over to them confidently. "This is Christine," Bree introduced excitedly. Her finger pointed out each girl. "Ashley"- a short, skinny blond with a heart-shaped face and unnaturally big eyes-"Samantha, a.k.a Sammie"- raven hair, perky features, and sharp, narrow looks (nose and chin)-"Trina"-black corkscrews curls, tinier than needed, hard eyes, judging everything as if it wasn't good enough for her- "and finally Rachel"- looked like Trina, except her hazel eyes were more curious, expression soft, matching her tall, built form almost perfectly.

Each girl smiled (not really of course, just enough to convice an idoit) and moved their hand an inch in what was supposed to be a wave. Rachel, though, smiled a little more at me with a bigger wave by a couple inches.

Bree picked up on how awkward it was and led us inside. I stayed at the back of the group, not wanting to get to close in case I've screwed something up already; populars girls like those can always draw blank faces, hiding their judgment on you. "Hi," a voice said, no more than a whisper, beside me. Rachel. She looked apologetic-I must let something slip onto my expression.

"Hey," I said stiffly. I sounded unsure;guarded. "Your the girl Chase is dating, right?" My face started to flush, and I shot my eyes to the marble tiled floor. "I guess so," I muttered sheepishly, shoulders rising and falling.

"Bree talked on and on about how she thinks you two are the 'it' couple," Rachel continued, "of the school. Is your next date soon?" I looked up after my face cooled, the blush gone. Rachel seemed way better than the other girls had acted toward me.

"Saturday," I replied a little more loudly.

"Cool." She nodded-her head whipped side from side quickly, scanning different stores. "Why don't I help you then?" she said excited, her hand latching onto my wrist. "Where and when is this date?" Bree continued to lead the group past benches, various carts and piercing stations. "Night-his house." Rachel smiled and dragged me toward a JC Penny's with a smiley face. Five minutes later, my arms were wayed down with jeans, tank, and shirts of all colors as she shoved me into an empty dressing room.

I modeled the clothes for her, in the way she had picked them out and intructed me what went with what. It ranged from short short and plaid shirts to leggings and graphic tees with sweaters and belts. When everything had been tried on, we kept most and tossed out three shirts and one skirt.

The cashier looked a little startled when at least a dozen (or more) types of clothing as plopped onto the counter in front of them. She started ringing them, one by one; I was never a patient type of person.

"That'll be 123.96," she stated, her boston accent sounding bored. I gaped at the woman and turned to Rachel nervously. "I don't have that kind of money," I whispered to her harshly. But she just waved me away dismissively. "I got this," she said, her tone louder than the one I had used. She opened her purse-quite an expensive looking one if I might add- and pulled out a freaking credit card! I could barely hide my shock, even though it's normal for teenagers to have one. None of my friends ever did though.

Soon we out, both holding two bag in one hand, arms around the others shoulder with their free one. "You know you didn't have to do that right?" I said as we started to search for our group; that must've not missed us, considering how they weren't searching high and low (not that I thought they would, anyway). Rachel just rolled her eyes and led me in the direction of Barnes & Nobles. "I know," she responded. "But I wanted to."

So there's a little more Christine for you, the next chapter will be school and something else that I think you'll be excited for.