September 30th, 5:45 AM-

Every morning, Liselotte got up deceptively early. One might get the false impression that the girl was any semblance of a morning person when in fact that could not be further from the truth. The only thing that could motivate the ashy haired girl to do much of anything was the promise of good food, so it was worth getting up in a timely manner just to start the day off with a nice breakfast. Slipping out of bed, she scratched her backside rather uncouthly, and mumbled unintelligibly as she shuffled across the room to pull on her school uniform.

Rather than the more standard options of a skirt or a dress, Liselotte opted for a hemmed pair of the school's blue plaid boy's shorts, a white button up with a blue tie, and a cozy grey sweater over top. The self proclaimed rebel often disregarded what most would deem a lady like position when sitting that made skirts somewhat problematic. That, and wearing a piece of the boy's uniform somehow cemented her rebel status in her mind.

Pulling on her socks she snagged her dark tinted glasses off her nightstand and shuffled out of her room and into the kitchen. The soft clink of a mug on the kitchen table brought her attention to her mother, though neither said anything in greeting. Surely by now she knew better than to greet her daughter in the morning before she had even made breakfast. Liselotte did not become vocal until at least 7:45 at the earliest, which had the peers in her first period class convinced that she was both blind and mute.

Of course, a good meal started things off in the right direction. Today's selection was scrambled eggs and french toast with microwave bacon. Some part of the porcelain skinned girl cringed at the idea that she would cook anything in a microwave, but she didn't much care for cooking things that spattered while in her school uniform.

The soft patter of the dog door swinging signaled a new arrival, followed by the click click click of her german shepherd's claws on the linoleum floor. The curious pooch came up beside her cautiously, as if to sneak up on the little chef, and slowly lifted his nose over the edge of the counter to get a better sniff of whatever it was that was cooking on the stovetop. Quickly Liselotte took notice of the brush of his snout against her arm, and she bumped him away with her hip, reprimanding him with a simple, "No nose, Fritz." Her mother quietly laughed to herself. Liselotte was much more likely to talk to her dog sooner than she would to anyone else. The nice thing about Fritz was he didn't talk back.

Once everything was finished she loaded up her plate and took a seat at the table across from her mother. The mug clinked against the table once again.

"It smells good."

Liselotte responded to the compliment with a tight-lipped smile before shoveling he freshly cooked and piping hot contents of the plate into her mouth in giant bites, a few stray pieces of egg tumbling down into her sweater.

"Do you have all your things in your bag and ready for school? Her mother spoke up again, Liselotte nodding with an exasperated sigh. Despite what her mother thought, she wasn't completely irresponsible.

September 30th, 7:30 AM-

People at school were generally of the same opinion as her mother, due to her frequent napping during class, and forgetfulness when it came to homework. In her first class of the day, a group project was announced to be turned in the following week. The poor souls placed with Liselotte may have tried to hide their disappointment, but she could certainly hear it in their voices as they discussed who would do what. Not only was she the kid they all dreaded working with, she was also the kid they dreaded upsetting. Not that it proved very difficult to get on Liselotte's bad side, so it was frequently an earnest mistake.

When her leg started shaking as the group talked, a few students tensed. It was no secret that Liselotte had a temper, and wasn't shy about sharing her feelings. It was even rumored that her guide dog Fritz was one a police dog, while others claimed they heard he used to be a fighting dog, despite the docility with which he sat beside his handler during class. Even her dog's reputation preceded him, tainted by Liselotte's lifelong legacy of aggression.

In elementary school when she was a mere twelve years old the rambunctious girl got herself suspended from school for pushing one of her classmates down the stairs. Her mother insisted it was an accident, though Liselotte made that claim hard to substantiate with her bitter remarks of how the kid deserved it. After all, he had insulted the integrity of the honors choir. They moved shortly thereafter, but much to her dismay six years later the incident remained on her school record.

All the social blemishes wouldn't have mattered as much if she kept good grades, but unfortunately Liselotte didn't exactly flourish at school either. She did what she had to in order to get by and graduate, a D for diploma student. When it came to getting out of Willowcrest, she preferred sooner rather than later. Being valedictorian, or even getting any kind of academic recognition wasn't important; the only thing that mattered was graduating.

Of course, even once she got out she highly doubted her overbearing mother would ever let her get too far. After some very desperate persuasion the rebel without a cause submitted a college application to the university in town so she could stay nice and smothered. With her mom finally satisfied however, a few more applications to far away schools may have also snuck into the mix. The reach of her ambitions in life extended well beyond Monroe's city limits.

As the bell rang and the class headed for the door, the crowds in the hallway parted for Liselotte as she trudged down the hall with Fritz to her next class, her favorite class, the only class she particularly excelled in. Unsurprisingly, it was a cooking class. There was something about being able to produce of a work of art she could actually enjoy that thrilled her. The smell, the taste, the texture, she could enjoy them all just as wholly as anyone else could.

Over the years Liselotte developed a rather mature culinary taste, but even the simple dishes they made in her cooking class satisfied the overwhelming desire to create. That is, when one of her classmates wasn't lighting her food on fire and causing the whole school to have an impromptu fire drill. In a meek, squeaky voice she always apologized profusely for it, but that didn't mean it wasn't annoying as hell. Especially after the third time.

September 30th, 12:30 PM-

Even worse than Leighanne's burned excuse for cooking was the cafeteria's daily servings of undefinable substances. As such, Liselotte packed her own lunch daily and ate outside so Fritz could do his business and so she could get away from the loud swells of chatter and unpleasant odors inside. Nicholas Davidson: School Diva usually joined her for lunch, as he was one of the elite few capable of putting up with the tomboy's moodiness. The boy was charming enough with a suave voice that sounded downright angelic when he sang, but he tended to dwell and became a bit of a drama king. This tendency seemed slightly more at home with his fellow thespian friends, rather than with more mellow choir friends like Liselotte, if she could even be classified as such.

"But when it all comes down to it, I really should have been cast as Tony because I'm the one with the right range! Keith is just going to butcher everything and besides, you should've heard the shit he was saying about the directors backstage during the musical last year. He's so ungrateful, I'm honestly surprised they even cast him at all. If only they knew."

Liselotte nodded along, munching on a sandwich with Fritz laying attentively at her side. She couldn't help but notice how shrill his voice became when he got worked up over something that usually ended up being insignificant. In the last three years of high school she had learned it was sometimes just better to let him keep going until everything cleared out of his system.

"Well you and I both know Keith is a dick. He's probably going to have another blow up at someone during rehearsal and then you don't have to worry about him anymore," she responded with an apathetic shrug. Her aggression subsided with astonishing quickness when the problem didn't affect her. A little self centered, perhaps, but then again who wasn't? Her emotions rarely swayed because of the feelings of those around her.

"You just don't understand how hard it is to deal with him every day! I can't work with this guy. Why didn't you audition? You keep leaving me stranded all alone with awful people," the boy whined, leaning his head on Liselotte's shoulder as she sipped her apple juice. The suggestion nearly made her snort the juice straight out of her nose.

"Oh please. Can you honestly imagine me trying to dance and not hurt myself? It would be hysterical. I'd probably trip all over al the things on stage just trying to walk across, let alone dance," she said flatly, opening up a tupperware of edamame. "Besides, don't you guys do fancy spins and shit in that show?"

"Come on man, you woulda made a great Anybody's. And everyone trips over set pieces so you would've been fine," he fussed, nonchalantly leaning close and trying to snatch some of the beans from her bowl. The moment his fingers closed on a pod she smacked his arm.

"Hey, drop it," she commanded, placing the bowl on the other side of her away from his grabby hands. "Theatrics just aren't my thing, I guess. I'm just not into putting on ridiculous outfits and parading around in front of everyone. That'd be stupid."

The two fell silent for a moment as they continued to eat until the peacefulness was abruptly shattered by a loud herd of people thundering past them and cheering. Liselotte quickly grew irritated, a scowl pinching together the skin on her forehead.

"What the fuck was all that about?"

Nicholas chuckled coyly and leaned in close to his companion. "It's Chumani's birthday today. You should go wish her a happy birthday and bake her a cake. Maybe confess your love for her in the icing."

Liselotte grimaced at the suggestion. "You little shit," she muttered, pushing him away indignantly. "Stop trying to set me up with every girl in the damn school. I don't even think she's gay first of all, and secondly I'm not at all into the jock-y muscle-y girls."

"How would you know she's muscle-y if you haven't run your hands all over her?" Nicholas asked in a jeering tone.

"Oh please, people talk about it all the time. Plus she plays like a thousand sports I don't think it's rocket science."

"So you just like girls lazy and muscle-less like you then?" he teased.

"Yep. Because if they look like me then I bet they'll be perfect like me too."

September 30th, 2:30 PM-

Though Liselotte wouldn't join the theatre even if her life depended on it, that didn't mean she didn't love choir. After all, it has been important enough to warrant pushing a boy down the stairs back in elementary school. Though there was a choir class during the school day with dedicated rehearsal time for her section, Liselotte always stayed after school either to continue rehearsing, or to help out with other groups. The choir room, much like kitchens, provided a safe haven. Familiar scents and familiar sounds, the comforting touch of the old piano keys under her fingers all comforted her restless soul.

Finding the piano bench and lowering herself down, Fritz laid down patiently beside her as the chatter amongst the other students settled down. Normally in the after school period Liselotte would simply work as an accompanist, occasionally giving a little extra help to those who needed it. A long time student of music, it wasn't all too difficult for Liselotte to pick out voices that were off amongst the crowd, and helping those who were struggling gave a unique sense of feeling needed that the girl with the bad reputation didn't get anywhere else. Because of this, the choir kids had the unlikely and distinct honor of being the only group of Willowcrest students that weren't afraid of the reckless rebel.

The group ran through the song lineup for the fall concert, Liselotte's fingers making melodious music along with their voices when the backstage door slowly creaked open. Nicholas approached the pianist from behind, setting his hands down quickly on her shoulders. Effectively startling the pale faced girl, her nimble fingers suddenly became clumsy as they fumbled over the piano keys in her surprise.

"Heyyy Lottie!" the boy greeted in an excited whisper, "You'll never guess what!" Liselotte groaned, though it sounded more like a growl as she scooted away from the nuisance who then plopped down on the piano bench beside her.

"What is it, Nick?" she hissed, shoulders tense and growing hostile from the interruption.

"I got you a part in the show!" he announced cheerfully, "I just finished talking to the director about it!" The girl's porcelain skin somehow managed to pale to lighter shades of white at the news.

"You…you did what?!" Her voice scathing, she reached for the boy and curled her fingers into his shirt, clenching the fabric tightly in her fists. "I told you no! Don't make me beat you! You go back and tell her I don't feel like it!" Where there was once idle chatter filling the room, now everyone fell silent. "I said I didn't want to, I can't dance and I can't act."

"That's the best part!" Nicholas chirped brightly, "You don't need to do either of those things!"

Liselotte's hands loosened their grip on his shirt, and she turned her head to the side in confusion, "…what?"

"I know no one really gets to hear you play piano except the choir kids. So I asked the director about it and she said you oughta join the band and play in the show," he explained cheerfully. Liselotte furrowed her brow, perplexed by this new development and trying to process what she had just heard. Playing piano…in front of a real audience? "You can also do backup vocals if you wanna, we usually set up a few mics backstage to get a fuller sound for the big numbers."

"They really want me to play? To sing?"

"Yeah! Just say the word and I can go get the music for you to start practicing!"

The gesture was actually quite touching, once she took a moment to think about it. A small smile crossed her lips as the color returned to her face, and she let go of the boy's shirt, patting him gently on the shoulder.

"You know, you're all right Nicky," she complimented weakly, "I'd love to. Just bring me a CD of the piano parts and I'll start working on it. And you'll have to tell me when I need to start being there for rehearsals."

September 30th, 4:30 PM-

Nicholas could be a little shit, but at least his heart was in the right place. After receiving a CD of the music Liselotte burned the disk on one of the library computers so she could upload it to her music player. The library computers ran slow, but she had plenty of time to kill. There was a bit of a walk between the school and the rec center where she waited for the town shuttle, plus a rather long wait time even after that. The school bus didn't travel to her neighborhood, and though her mother could drive her to school in the mornings she didn't get out of work early enough to pick her up. Nicholas took the bus and besides him there wasn't anyone else she could imagine wanting to carpool with the surly tomboy. So public transit it was.

Walking with Fritz to the rec center to wait, the faint sound of the marching band warming up in the distance carried on the breeze. Not too bad, but she had other music she ought to start listening to. Upon arriving at their destination Fritz guided her to an empty bench where she pulled out her ipod and its tangled mass of headphones. Fiddling with the cords her movements became more agitated as she attempted to undo what must have been the devil's work. There was no other explanation for the giant cluster of knots.

"Hello, miss." Liselotte turned her head towards the sound of the woman's voice, setting down her little project in her lap.

"Yeah?"

"I need the art classroom. Do you know where the art classroom is inside?" the woman asked, sounding fretful.

"Oh, yeah. Just go inside, there's a railing and if you follow that around the staircase the classrooms are down the hall to the right," she directed, turning away and reaching for her headphones once again. Instead of leaving the woman came closer, and grabbed ahold of Liselotte's hands without a word. Taken aback, Liselotte's body tensed and she leaned away.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she demanded, the woman slipping her headphones out from between her hands with ease. "Hey! Give those back!"

"I will give them back," she said simply, Liselotte listening to the sound of her nails flicking as she picked at the tangled chords. "What's your name?"

The question absolutely baffled Liselotte who in turn sat in befuddled silence for a moment.

"It's Liselotte. People usually just call me Lottie."

"Thank you for your help, Liselotte. My name is Elvis."

"…That's—"

"An interesting name for a girl, I know. Are you blind?"

Liselotte frowned. She didn't usually get that question.

"Yeah."

"Have you always been blind?"

"No."

"Does your dog bite?"

Wasn't this the set up to a joke? Liselotte couldn't remember, entirely confounded by the entire interaction. "No, he's very well trained. He's a service dog they aren't allowed to do that kind of thing."

"That's good. Here, now I've helped you," the stranger replied, setting the now tangle free headphones back in the dumbfounded girl's hands. "It was nice meeting you."

And with that, she disappeared through the front doors. Liselotte remained in a state of confusion for a while, sitting still with her headphones in her hands for a few minutes before she pushed them into her ears to listen to the music she had to learn. Only a few songs in the music became grumbly, much to her dismay. Was the CD just shitty quality, or had something gone wrong when she was burning the disk? She should've known better than to trust library computers. Upon pulling out one of the ear buds, she came to realize that the earth rumbled and growled, not the music.

As soon as she identified the sound, the ground beneath her began to shake furiously, much stronger than any earthquake she had ever felt before. Her legs shook as aggressively as the ground beneath them, and fearfully she slid off the bench and onto the ground, wrapper her arms around Fritz who sat erect and alert, his head looking about frantically. Liselotte buried her face in his fur as the dog sat protectively beside her. An independent soul, Liselotte rarely asked for help. But in that moment, she pleaded.

"Help, please. Somebody…help me."