A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews of the last chapter, I'm really grateful that there're still people interested in this. Sorry if I didn't reply to your review, I've been at my mum's and the internet there doesn't let me come on here for some reason.
"You got hit by a metro?" Frasier exclaimed the next morning over the phone.
"No, you idiot, then I wouldn't be alive," I laughed "I nearly got hit by a metro."
"...Dude, I know you have your clumsy moments, but how the hell...?" she asked exasperatedly.
"My art project blew onto the rails. The metro was coming and I was leaning over the ledge to try and get the project. I nearly fell over, onto the rails."
"...You are an idiot."
"Lovely thing to say to somebody who could be dead right now."
"Could be dead because she was an idiot."
"Fair enough," I sighed, leaning back in bed.
"So did you save the project? Guessing by the lack of tears, I think you did."
"I didn't, actually," I stated "Somebody else did."
"Oh? Who?"
"This guy. He pulled me back and grabbed the drawing, literally two seconds before the metro arrived."
"Skill," she murmured "This guy? What was he like?"
"Oh, you know me so well," I grinned "...He was rather attractive. Rather being an understatement, actually."
"Oh?" she sounded interested "What did he look like? Did you get his number?"
"He erm...Well, he was different. He had orange hair. I don't mean ginger, I mean literally orange, he had a red cloak and this massive scar running down the side of his face."
"Scar? What, like a little scar or a big "fuck off" scar?" she asked.
I couldn't help but laugh at her wording.
"The second on, definitely. But that's not the interesting thing so let's forget our teenage hormones for a minute, dearest," I joked "He was handing out these flyers for the Cirque Du Freak, you heard of it?"
"I haven't, it's like a freak show, then, yeah?"
"Yeah, it actually looks really, really interesting, which is actually why I called. Want to go to it? It's on Wednesday night."
"What kind of show happens on a school night?"
"The kind where the advertisements are handed out in the evening, when most people our age are either getting drunk at the park or lurking around at home."
"I like your point. How much are tickets?"
"Fifteen quid each."
"Jesus, not like...a fiver?" she sighed.
"No, but it really looks worth it and I don't want to go alone...I'll even pay for like half of your ticket," I offered.
"No need, I have money lying around somewhere. Just go buy the tickets today and I'll pay you tomorrow," she said, I could practically hear her shrug.
"Awesome," I smiled.
"Yeah, that guy, did you get his name, also?" she asked.
"Yeah, it was weird though, definitely not something like Dave," I laughed "It's on the poster, two seconds."
I quickly found the folded poster inside my bedside cabinet and scanned over it, finding the name.
"Larten Crepsley."
"What, is that a stage name?" she asked.
"Probably," I shrugged "Anyways, I'm gonna go, but I'll get ready and buy the tickets in a couple of hours, yeah?"
"Awesome, text me when you do."
"Will do, bye," I muttered, hanging up and tossing the phone to the bottom of my bed with a sigh.
Monday morning came quicker than I would've like for it to. It wasn't the school itself that I hated, no. I didn't mind the work or the lessons – in fact, I enjoyed most of it. It was the people I shared the school with.
I didn't know why they hated me or why they even made fun of me. I wasn't exactly hideous. I wasn't pretty either, but not hideous. I wasn't fatter or thinner than any of them either.
I was of average weight and just a little bit shorter than average, but it wasn't very noticeable and the growing pains in my legs hinted that I'd take a stretch soon. I had dark brown hair that reached just below my shoulders and a fringe that was often kept off of my left eye by my black rimmed glasses which framed my rather unremarkable green-ish brown eyes.
I never really saw their problem with me, but what I did see was the glares, the whispers and I heard the giggling that ensued. I also felt the shoves and the quick tugs on my hair that I always just ignored – it was easier than starting trouble and I told myself that if I just kept ignoring them, they would eventually go away.
I sighed as I ran a hand through my hair and applied chapstick once again before walking through the glass double-doors leading to the dining hall where everybody sat before lessons began.
"Get the tickets?" Frasier questioned from her seat on top of one of the dining tables at the far left corner of the room.
I nodded and pointed to the front pocket of my bag, taking a seat between the other two of our little group of misfits, Bianca and Allie.
"Tickets? What band?" Allie asked curiously with a slight frown.
"No, it's just this, ah, circus thing," I shrugged.
"Like clowns and stuff?" Bianca asked with a shudder as she scrawled down answers to Biology homework that was probably due first lesson.
"I'm not actually sure," I admitted "I got it from this guy in the Subway."
"Well that sounds reliable," she laughed "Don't s'pose you know much about crude oil?"
And the subject was dropped. First lesson was German, which was horrible. It wasn't the work, as I'd said earlier. I found the language quite easy and I didn't really mind learning it, but the only person in the lesson I could stand was Allie, I either didn't know the rest of them, or they enjoyed making my life a personal hell, and in a few cases, both, and that personal hell often started the second I sat down in my seat.
I kicked my bag underneath the table, dropping my books onto the desk and as I went to seat down, the boy I sat next to (who I found disgusting in both personality and appearance) pulled my chair away, leaving nothing for me to fall onto but the floor.
I winced as laughter erupted around the classroom and I leant on the desk to pull myself back up and this time, into my seat. I ignored the laughter with a sigh as I felt my cheeks heat up and caught Allie's sympathetic frown and replied to it with a small, fake smile as I opened the text book and the teacher walked in just as I began counting down the minutes that the lesson would end.
It felt like centuries later when it finally did, but art wasn't much better. In fact, despite it being my favourite lesson, it was even worse. It started out like any other lesson, scraps of paper getting thrown at me and people giggling, but I could handle that – I found it pathetic and I could easily shrug it off, but it wasn't until I left the lesson that I realised what they had done.
I sat on the grass of the school field for break with Allie, Bianca and Frasier, glad that for once it was a nice day.
"What've you got next?" Frazier asked, browsing through her planner.
"No idea," I shrugged "my planner's in my bag."
She nodded and pulled my bag towards her, opening it and then all went silent.
"...Uh...Monica?"
"...Yeah?"
"...I think your stationary got angry."
I sighed, looking up from the grass.
"...Angry?"
With a wince she turned her bag towards me and to my horror, green paint dripped out. All of my stuff was ruined – the only exception being my sketch pad that I didn't keep in my bag since it wouldn't fit.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I groaned, pulling out my now green pencil case a long with my planner, the book I had been reading and a lot of revision notes.
"Holy..." I heard Allie murmur, moving to sit beside me and see the mess that had once been my school bag.
With a string of curses I stood up, kicking the bag and I stormed off, glaring at the ground in front of my feet. An hour and a half later I was sitting in the head of year's office, glaring at his desk.
"Do you have any idea how the paint got in your bag?"
I shook my head, not taking my glare off of the desk.
"Could you have done it?" he asked unsurely.
"Why would I destroy my own bag? It cost me twenty pounds!"
He nodded slowly.
"Well...since we have no idea who could've done it, there's really not much we can do for you, Monica. Mrs Howell has managed to salvage your equipment and clean up your bag a bit but you'll probably need to buy a new one..."
"I haven't got enough money."
He sighed at that and spoke again.
"Well we could help you with the expenses but until we find out who did it, that's really all we can do...Just go to the library and revise until lunch – that's about twenty minutes, then resume your lessons," he finished, gesturing to the now green-tinged bag lying in the corner of the room.
I sighed but nodded, leaving the room with a ruined bag and an even more ruined mood.
I didn't actually do any revision in the library, and I highly doubted I was actually expected to, too. Instead I found a book on vampires that didn't really capture my interest, but it made it look like I was at least a little bit busy. So I flicked through the pages, looking at the pictures disinterestedly and dreading the time when I would have to go to the lunch hall and be laughed at by whoever had dumped the paint in my bag.
But unfortunately, I always found that the more the dreaded something, the quicker it approached and soon I heard the bell give three sharp rings, signalling lunch for my year group.
I trudged towards my usual table, surprised to see the three of my friends already there when I sat down, shoving my bag onto the chair next to me after pulling my, thankfully un-spoiled, lunch out of it. I explained what had happened to them in a monotone, fed up of the day and wishing that it would just end.
Once I finished, I unwrapped my sandwich, surveying their looks of disbelief.
"So that's it then, they're going to do nothing?"
"Pretty much," I sighed, going to take a bite of my lunch when I heard a scathing voice from behind me.
"Do you really think you should be eating that?" I heard a girl from my art class snort as she walked past me.
I sighed, dropping the sandwich back into the packaging and pushing it away from me as I looked at my stomach, which I had always considered to be quite flat.
"Dude, are you really going to listen to her?" Bianca frowned "You're thinner than me!"
I shook my head wordlessly and sighed but shooting Allie a thankful look as she patted me on the shoulder whilst glaring at the girl. This day was just getting better and better.
I stayed late after school again that day – I didn't even have that much art work to do, and as much as I wanted to rush home, the feeling of apprehension of standing around on the platform with all of them, conquered my wanting for home.
It got to about seven o'clock again when the cleaners ushered me out of the school and I welcomed the sight of the empty platform when I reached it.
With a sigh, I dumped my bag next to me and slid down to sit on the floor, not really caring about the dirty floor, blinking back tears that threatened to spill now that I was alone. I checked the metro-schedule, mine was due in twenty minutes.
I sighed, resting my head on my knees. Nobody was ever here at this time, which was strangely comforting and I didn't bother to wipe away my tears once they began and when they began, they were almost uncontrollable. It wasn't until I heard a cough that I froze, mid sob and cringed. Pulling my sleeve over my hand and wiping underneath my eyes, I looked up in the curious and strangely pitying eyes of the man who had saved me three nights ago. Larten Crepsley.
A/N: There you have it. I know it's a boring chapter, but it had to be done, just so you know a bit about Monica. And if you think that stuff like this doesn't happen at schools, it really does, I've seen stuff like it happen and been the victim of it. Thankfully not the paint, though. Anyways, reading the original of this, I realised how much I skirted around kissing/sex scenes so I wrote my first ever R-Rated scene for this yesterday and I was wondering if anybody would be interested in reading it for me to tell me if it's good or bad? Just before I publish it like...15/20 chapters from now xD
Anyways, yeah, thanks, guys.