AN: Please, no one kill me for starting another story... I couldn't get this idea out of my head...


Alright, I'm not like everyone else. That's obvious just by looking at me. The way I look, the way I act, the way I dress. But there's something that sets me even farther apart. Even if no one can see it.

I walked down the hall, keeping my head up against all of the stares I was getting. I adjusted my scarf to let my neck breathe – it was still summer, after all, but scarves were kind of my thing.

It was the first day of school – the first day of high school, for me. I knew it wouldn't be easy. I'd be lucky if I wasn't beaten up in the next few hours. But I wanted to make sure that everyone knew I wasn't ashamed of myself. I was going to stand tall against anything they did.

My train of thought was cut off by someone pushing past me, knocking me into a locker.

"Out of the way, fag!" the football player yelled over his shoulder, the rest of his group jeering at me.

I tried to keep breathing steadily, ignoring the pain in my shoulder, eyes screwed shut, feeling the familiar bubbling in my hands. I clenched them into fists until the sensation went away.

I sighed, leaning my head back against the metal. It was gonna be a long day.


I sighed, walking down the hall. Another year, another group of so-called "friends" that would ditch me the second I showed any sign that I was different.

I looked on both sides of me. Both guys walking next to me were wearing football jerseys identical to mine. They were my height, my build, even matching my step. The only things that set me apart were my coloring – the other guys were either pale or black, not really in between like me – and my voice. Well, that's what they thought, at least.

One of the guys shoved a kid we were passing, making the other guys yell something I was still too deep in my own head to make out.

I turned to look at the kid. He was black – definitely more so than me – and overweight. He was bald and wearing a scarf, pink and purple T-shirt, and skinny jeans. I felt for him, but he was kind of asking for it.

He tilted his head back and laid it against the locker, clenching his fists. But it was his expression that confused me. It wasn't fear or anger or pain, like every other kid's whenever one of the jerks on the team did that. It was something closer to concentration, mixed with something like panic.

"Yo, Bryce!" one of the new guys yelled, making me realize that I'd stopped.

I shook my head, snapping out of it. "Sorry, dude," I muttered, pushing the thought to the back of my mind.

I turned my attention to the ground as the other guys started talking about something to do with the cheerleaders. I honestly didn't want to know anything more than that.

Linoleum, I thought, mildly annoyed, trying to distract myself. It was cheap, it was ugly, and it always made me feel powerless. At least I had gym 2nd period.

I couldn't wait to get outside.


"Well, this is gonna be fun!" I said, rubbing the back of my head, annoyed.

"Ignore them, Cam," Damian said, glaring at the football player who'd just whacked me and the groupies cheering for him.

I sighed, turning back to my locker. "I'm trying. It's really not that easy."

"Please try," he said, almost pleading with his eyes. "Let's not have a repeat of last year."

I flinched. Part of me didn't want to regret that. The guy had honestly had it coming to him, but still…

"Yeah," I muttered, grabbing my books out of my locker. "Yeah, let's avoid that."

I know it's hard," he said, trying to catch my eyes. "But, really, all you have to do is–"

"Keep my glasses on," I interrupted him. Maybe not all, but it would be a start. "I know, I know." I slammed the locker shut and inhaled deeply, eyes closed, trying to push away the patterns of white lacing over everything. I opened them again and looked back at Damian. "C'mon, let's go to class."


"Later, Cam," I said, turning to the right. He waved half-heartedly as he kept walking straight.

I looked around as I walked. Students were talking on cell phones, texting, listening to their iPods…

I shook my head quickly, trying to relieve some of the pain while flashing back to last year. If Cam had managed to land a 6'4", 180 pound jock in the hospital with a pebble, I could only imagine what I could do if I lost control.

I let my mind wander, wondering if anyone else at this school was like us. I looked around at the other students. There were two Asian girls talking by the lockers. Despite the fact that one of them had long, blonde hair in an 80's style ponytail and the other's was almost red and in a bun, they didn't really catch my attention. There was an overweight Hispanic girl with a tattoo of a black heart by her eye walking opposite my direction with a scrawny, pale girl with wire-rimmed glasses, freckles, and pigtails held up with camouflage ties. A tall, tan girl with long, dark hair, wearing a tank top that showed off the tattoo on her right shoulder was talking to a tall boy with scruffy brown hair and a scar under his left eye. Definitely interesting people, but no one who really made me think.

Then my eyes landed on a beautiful, tall girl with flawless porcelain skin, hazel eyes, and black hair in a ponytail, her loose, black and white patterned dress, black tights, short gray boots, and bangles making her the only street-clothed girl in the group of cheerleaders surrounding her. Probably the least noticeable person in the entire hall, but something about her didn't let me look away until they turned the corner.

I blinked, stunned, but quickly shook my head to clear it of both her and the ever-present buzzing. There was no way she was anything like us.

I sighed and kept walking.

AN: So, the intro will be three chapters. When I post the next one depends on how many people like this...

Also. The girl in the end... Not an OC. ;P