DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN OUTNUMBERED

Chapter One ~ Poems and Visions

'Now Anastasia if you would please read out your short story on Romance, but please chose us why you were assigned the genre before you do,' Mr Mansfield said as I groaned and grabbed my blue English book. Getting up out of one of the blue plastic chairs I swung my long dark chocolate brown hair out of my face and walked to the front of the classroom. 'Well firstly I was assigned Romance because- I began to say but was rudely interrupted by Harry Matthews. 'Because you're a slut!' he shouted and elbowed his friend Jake Brockman who simply laughed and smiled. Clenching my teeth together I balled my free hand into a fist as Mr Mansfield gave him a warning look and then turned back to me, as if he was giving me a sign to continue speaking.

'Anyway as I was saying I chose the topic because I find Romance hard to write, I'm more into tragedy. However this story does kind of have a slight tragic twist, because it's about a girl who has been in a coma for two years and her boyfriend has written her a birthday card for every year. So I'll begin,' I said and opened my book. I had written ten pages of my story so it took around fifteen minutes for me to read, in which that time half the class weren't actually listening. However there was one person who looked as if they were and I was surprised. Jake had his head perched on his hand and his blue eyes were fixed on me for the entire time. 'Angus kissed Rowena one last time as the darkness slipped over her like a billowing cloak. 'I'll love you forever, you know that don't you?' he whispered and she simply nodded her head. She clasped his hand with her thin, tiny one and squeezed it tightly. 'Angus I'll always be with you, looking down on you, and I'll always be in your heart,' she whispered taking her hand away from his. Now was the time for her to return to The Father, or as others called him Jesus Christ. But Rowena was atheist, so this didn't matter. Taking one final breath she closed her emerald green eyes and went back into eternal sleep. Only this time she wasn't given the choice of waking,' I said finishing my story, then snapped my English book shut.

'Well Anastasia that was a rather tragic story though I feel that you managed to capture the feeling of Romance very well, now would you please hand your book in so I can mark your work,' Mr Mansfield said and I had to admit some people were crying- girls and boys- and in my opinion their tears looked pretty genuine. Sitting back down I received many looks- mostly raised eyebrows- however when I sat down again I saw something. Me being led across the Sports Field by Jake who then took me into the disabled toilets, and then he said something that sounded like, 'Anastasia the teacher told you to take it off, why won't you?' but Anastasia in the vision simply shook her head. 'Have you got a top on underneath?' he asked and I nodded, 'Well then… wait is someone hurting you?' he asked and I shook my head vigorously. 'They are, who is it?' he asked but I just shook my head. Without warning he pulled up the sleeve of my jumper, revealing a least four long cuts.

The vision ended and I zapped back to reality in a blink. 'Anastasia are you okay? I was asking you a question and you know I don't like to repeat myself,' the teacher said but I had my excuse. 'Sir it was my ESP, you know it makes me see things,' and he simply nodded. Most people in the school knew I had Extrasensory perception, in other it's like a sixth sense. And that vision I just had wasn't a very good one, it would mean that my parent's crimes on me would be revealed. ESP was one of the reasons for my nickname Freak and Psychic, also my green eyes and brown hair were thought to be a straight combination hence the name 'Cat-Eyes'. As well as this I was called 'Geek' and 'Nerd' many times a day. 'Anastasia what's wrong?' someone whispered and it was only then that I realised I was crying. The speaker was behind me so I turned around whilst the teacher was talking to another student. To my surprise the person who said that was Jake, I mean he didn't bully me because he knew what it was like to be bullied. But he was friends with Harry Matthews, one of the people who did bully me.

'Nothing,' I said quietly and he shook his head. 'Then why are you crying?' he asked indicating the small droplets of tears running down my face. 'It's nothing,' I hissed and turned back. The real truth was that a long cut on my leg was flashing with lightning bolts of pain, and the many bruises on my tummy weren't helping either. 'Now would everyone put their names in a hat and we can pick partners for the Romantic Poets Project,' Mr Mansfield said passing the hat around. I scribbled my name- Anastasia Kopalev- on a piece of scrap paper and put in into the black stovepipe hat. After everyone had done this our 'crazy' English Teacher went to the front of the large classroom and dramatically stuck his hand deep into the hat. He pulled out a large piece of A4 paper and unfolded it with an exaggerated flourish, then squinted to read the miniscule letters that someone had written down at the top of the page. 'Harry Matthews!' he announced and reached to pull out another name. My hand clenched round my HB pencil, my knuckles went white with tension. Who would he pull out?

'Anastasia Kopalev!' he said loudly and a groan escaped my system. Feeling a mixture of adrenaline, anger and tension tingle inside me I jumped up from my seat. 'I object!' I shouted and Mr Mansfield looked puzzled. 'Miss Kopalev, do you and Mr Matthews get along?' he asked and I rolled my 'Cat-Eyes'. 'Well obviously not otherwise I wouldn't be retaliating!' I shouted at him. There was NO WAY that I was going to be put with one of my worst enemies, in fact I could still feel the pain on my right arm from where he twisted it and punched it against a wall. 'Fine, Harry your name will go back in,' Mr Mansfield muttered and dropped the paper back into the tall hat. He pulled a piece out, opened it and then said, 'Jake Brockman, Anastasia no objections this time,' and I flung myself down on my small seat. At least I wouldn't be hurt whilst trying to do an English assignment as I was with my history. Then for the next ten minutes I just sat there with my head in my hands, until everyone had been paired up. Then Mr Mansfield just HAD to say the sentence I had been dreading, 'Now boys and girls, if you would please sit next to your partners!'

I simply sat in my seat, upright and rigid not moving a muscle despite a certain someone poking me in the back. The person sighed and picked up their books then plonked them down on the wooden desk, after this they slumped into the blue seat next to me. The teacher wrote down the three points of the project that we were to complete, which were: Essay, Timeline, Poem in Style of Romantics. So basically he was just leaving us to our own devices. 'God not the Romantic Poets, they were the biggest bunch of emos ever!' I groaned slamming my head on the table. 'If you keep doing that you'll destroy all those smart brain cells of yours, he said gently lifting my head up my pulling my hair. I shook my head and then processed the words that he had just said to me and discovered he had, no he couldn't have, he had complimented me! 'D-did you just call me smart?' I asked grabbing my pen and then started to right down points on the Romantic Poets.

'Yeah, it's no big deal is it?' he asked, frowning slightly his blue eyes clouding with confusion. 'Nah I guess not,' I simply muttered, as I tore out a piece of paper and screwed it up in frustration. 'Well then, whose going to do what,' Jake said, emphasising every single word of his sentence. 'Well we could both work on the timeline together, and then do half the essay and half the poem each?' I suggested, opening my ripped textbook. He just nodded and got on with his work, leaving an awkwardness lingering at the table. The rest of the class were chatting, exchanging gossip, holiday plans and other bits of useless information that they had just happened to pick up on the way to school whilst me and Jake were just working silently which was just the way I liked it. Until something in my head started to take me through visions of the future, and as it explored different pathways I tried in vain to shut it out. Alas I failed miserably, as I always did. One was a girl crying in the corner, her arms slashed and cover in thick, red blood. Another was of a boy comforting the girl, patting her back and wiping her fast and salty tears that were escaping her tear ducts at tremendous speed.

But the third and final vision was certainly far different from the rest. It wasn't literal, but more set in a metaphorical world. The same girl with the green eyes was walking down an alleyway, which was dark and gloomy. However she then met someone along the way, a boy with blue eyes who took her hand and let her off into a sunlit valley with grassy banks and a crystal blue river- just the colour of his eyes. But there was something or someone waiting for them there, two elves- a mother and a father- and two little sprite children- a sister and a brother, although unfortunately these were not their only companions. Sitting in the darkest corners of the bright world were two gremlins, waiting to snatch the girl away from her new friends and family, ready to take her back into the life that she already lived. And then as a pebble dropped from a cliff face it all blanked and the girl was taken back to reality. I had not realized that I had been the one to wake up, for my pen had fallen out of my hands and dropped onto the smooth carpet floor.

(Third Person)

Jake sighed and put his head in his hands as Anastasia lifted her head from the table. He hadn't dared to wake her, unless she let out one of those screams like she had done almost every night of the school residential in Year Eight. Apart from the night when he had slept by her bed to keep her comforted. That was when they had been friends. Something was going on with her and to Jake it definitely didn't seem to be for the better. The way she clutched her arms protectively, as if someone would shatter them and reduce her to dust. The way her eyes flitted about with flecks of fear and terror hidden inside their green depths. And the way she never smiled. Now that was seriously freaky. He had never really been the questioning time of sort, like Ben or Karen but he knew if he wanted answers he would have to ask for them. And fast.