Edited: 8/09/13

Start Chapter Two: Pizza Face

One thing I really do like about living Scotland is that my room faces west. Which means that there's very little sunlight in my room until about midday. Of course, no one ever lets me sleep until midday, but the idea that I could keeps me hopeful. Especially since that blasted alarm clock is out of my hair.

Last weekend, I may or may not have thrown it off my balcony for going off at seven in the morning on a Saturday. Coincidentally, my Uncle was mowing the grass when that happened. He ran it over by accident and thoroughly destroying the wretched thing. Pure coincidence, I swear. Really. I planned nothing.

But now, my aunt has taken it upon herself to become my alarm clock. Sadly, it seems that not even a locked door and blasting earphones can keep this woman from waking me.

Rubbing my tired eyes, I trudge into the closet. Unfortunately, my school here has a uniform, and, yes, I hate it with a burning passion. It consists of an itchy, brown skirt, white blouse, matching brown tie, and a navy blue blazer with the school's emblem to my left. I try not to complain. At least it isn't some ungodly color like puke-green or valley-girl-pink.

Most girls at my school either wear dark stockings or white knee-high socks with their uniform. We're not allowed to wear leggings though. So since I only have two pairs of knee-highs and hate tights with a passion, I usually end up showing more leg than I'd care to. Graciously, the dress code only requires 'black shoes', but I think they might change that soon. My scruffy old Converse have produced many a debate amongst the school staff. A few teachers have pulled me aside, insisting that I would fit in better if I wore Mary Janes or short heels, like the rest of my schoolmates. One old bat even offered to buy me some herself so I could "stop wearing that trash in her beloved school". At the very least, she has my respect for being honest.

"Sup, Kiddo?" I ruffle Tony's hair sitting beside him. Aunt Dot hands me a plate of scrambled eggs, looking pleased as punch.

"Aren't you two excited?" She asks us, sounding like a kid herself. Tony and I glance at each other, neither of us able to think of anything 'exciting' about going to school. I don't hold my breath.

"About what?" Tony asks with beautiful nativity.

"Didn't I tell you? The McCashtons called you both yesterday; the younger two said they couldn't wait to play with you again, Tony." The poor boy pales. My Aunt is oblivious. "And the older one said he couldn't stop thinking about you, Jen! How cute is that?" I choke on my eggs. "You don't find boys like that anymore," she says wistfully.

There are times when I think witchcraft might be real and this is one of them. How else could my otherwise brilliant Aunt not realize that the twins from Hell want to destroy her baby? Or that Lucas meant he was thinking of ways to make my life worse than it already is? She tells us to hurry out to the car so we can see them quicker.

I don't have any clue what set it off, but there's some kind of battle going on between the Thompsons and McCashtons. Tony doesn't seem to know what started it either. Everyday, those twin shitlings prod and tease my cousin for... I'm not really sure what. He's been on a vampire kick for some time now, so I suspect that might have something to do with it. If they're anything like their older brother though, then they're probably just self-centered, self-entitled, bully elitists who need a good fist to the face.

The McCashton I have to deal with shares half my classes with me and is probably the most popular pretty boy this side of the Atlantic. Even I have to admit he's got a nice face. Naturally, he'd be much better dating material if ruining my life wasn't one his favorite pastimes. He'd also be much cuter if he didn't say anything. Like... Ever.

The ride to school is quiet. The radio is on, but Aunt Dot always keeps it lower than a hum. My school is about five blocks closer to home than Tony's, which gives me five less to wonder what that bastard is going to do today. Sometimes, in fact a lot of times now that I think about it, he doesn't do anything at all and we live our own lives. But he's made bullying me the hip, new trend. So people trip, mock, and alienate me in hopes of getting on his good side. He never seems to notice, so people do bigger, ruder things until he acknowledges something, then starts the game all over again.

It pisses me off like crazy. Even more so because I know I could take him in a fight, but he's one of those guys who's always surrounded by a small legion of dudebros and fangirls. It'd be dumb to try and settle things like that while being so outnumbered. Despite that, every time he opens his mouth and looks at me with those eyes, the same icy blue as that woman, I feel my resolve slip a little more. It's only a matter of time, something says, before I snap. I push the voice away.

The car rolls to a stop and my aunt turns to me, smiling. "Okay, Jen. Have a good day at school." I thank her, closing the door. "Don't have too much fun with that boyfriend of yours," she says sending me a girlish wink. I feel the blood drain from my face and through the window I can see an equally shocked cousin. She pulls off before I can correct her. It's impossible not to shake my head.

With heavy limbs, I wander inside the main building towards my first class. The bell won't ring for another 20 minutes or so, but I never have anything better to do anyway. Some bitch makes a snide comment as I pass her locker, but I let it bounce off. She's got shitty hair, anyway. I enter the classroom and sit quietly in my seat. There are a few other students already here, as well: drawing, studying, reading manga. Things I have little talent or interest in. I pull out my phone and send a mass text to my friends back home: 'Save me.'

After about 5 minutes, I get a reply: 'Here's my 8 point plan: 1) you dress like a alpaca 2) i fake a seizure at the airport while wearing a poncho and mustache 3) we get hammered 4-6) ? 7) $$$ PROFIT $$$ 8) ur saved! And rich! You'r welcome.'

I smile at the idiocy. Lindsay, my closest friend, is always the first to text me back, no matter what. I get a few more texts from a few more people as I respond to her. It's enough to keep me distracted until class starts. Once the first bell rings, I put the phone away. As annoying as it sounds, my phone is my lifeline. If anyone takes it from me, and some have tried, I'll surely blackout and murder them by accident. Hell only knows what these fucking snobs might do just to get that asshole's attention.

Most of the class comes through the door at about the same time and Lucas strolls in with his posse moments before the final bell. His seat is a few behind mine so he always walks past me, gives me a look, then an annoying smile without stopping. Today is no different. Mr. Wilson starts the class and we all doze off a bit as he drones on and on about British history. Afterwards, I head to Biology, which is 200 times better than History simply because Lucas isn't in it. Mrs. McDonald, pregnant with what must be her third child, is surprisingly absent and I listen to the rumors and squabbling around me more than the substitute. After break, which I spend isolated in the library, throwing rulers behind the librarian's back, it's literature and math; both of which I share with Lucas.

Lunch rolls around and I'm surprisingly unscathed. To celebrate my not-death, I buy a piece of pizza and head into the thicket of hungry students. Another girl says something as I pass her and her friends. They all giggle. I glance over my shoulder. They're looking at me, just like I thought, and waiting for something to happen. I'm shoved and trip towards a crowded table.

I both feel and hear my pizza smash into someone's face. A tense hush blankets the lunchroom, snuffing out all conversation within it. My face is burning hot. Slowly, I remove my plate from the boy's face. Once I see who it is, I want to slit my throat with a plastic knife. Because who else would I pizza-face but Lucas himself?

His eyes, colored cold, pierce my own with icy rage. Clearly, he wants to snap my neck in half and throw me downstream. Hell, I'm half tempted to let him. With all the awkwardness of a thousand suns, I take a spare napkin from the table and start wiping down his sauced, and now shocked, face. I swipe a few more from the guy sitting next to Lucas and get the majority of the mess off. Clearing my throat loudly, I mumble an apology before rushing to the library; my silent sanctuary.

I fucking hate Mondays.

End Chapter Two

Monday's are bad for your health.

Edit: 8/09/13 If you're reading this after AUGUST 9TH, 2013, there is a high possibility the following chapters are written in PAST-tense, as that's how the original story was. If a chapter has been edited before August 9th, 2013, it will still be in past-tense. Because of my pure dumb-assery. :) Hope you guys still like it!