Chapter 1

"You're gay." His deep voice and mocking smile was simply teasing, so I grinned and shot "homo" back at him. He only replied with "loser" and our exchange of insults continued for several more moments. He finally sent me a teasing smile and said, "Yeah, but you know you love me."

"Ok," I replied in disgust, "we've been over this, Kiel. We all know I like you, so you can stop bringing it up every day!" I tried to sound hurt, but failed horribly, trailing off in muffled laughter. I could never really get mad at him. Not for long, anyway. I liked him way too much to do something harsh. His long, shaggy hair covered part of his face and he reached up to brush it away. He was definately handsome, with deep brown hair and mesmerising hazel eyes framing his defined features. He had lightly tanned skin, result of all the outdoor sports he played. He was massivly athletic, joinning every sport and track team our school had (a suprising number, considering the low-budget and all-around-cheap-ness of our school). Currently he was grinning back at me, and I couldn't help from smiling. He may piss me off more than not, but with one of his patented grins he could melt my thoughts. Which currently entailed killing his latest girlfriend. Murder colored my most vivid fantasies.

You see, we used to be dating. Used to. And yes, I broke up with him over the classic (and stupidest) reason. I didn't deserve him. He was perfect; adorable, funny, sweet, athletic, handsome. And I... well... wasn't. I have blonde hair and blue eyes, but I'm far from attractive. My orange-blonde (courtesy of my latest hair-dye fest) hair fell just below my shoulders, with a side sort of bang falling almost over my right eye. Although my hair is desirable, it never looks brushed, and I always keep it tied back in a tight pony-tail. My skin is bloched with acne, and my nose and ears are too big. I'm thin enough too look anorexic, and about as appealing as a pile of vomit. My eyes are my favourite feature. Really, the only one I can say I actually like. They're icy-blue orbs of crystal, rounded slightly. As for my wardrobe... there isn't much to say. I wear grass-stained jeans that are covered in black and red pen, along with an array of studded belts and chains. Random t-shirts, sweatshirts, and tank-tops finish off my usual look. Mostly baggy to hide the fact that I'm about as thick as Kiel's arm.

Ah, yes. And Kiel (obviously moving on to someone more deserving) ended up with my popular perfect-in-every-way best friend; Flea.

I cried.

"Bitch, please." My other best friend, Taylor (aka. Griant) ran up to me and stole her pen. She was much taller than me, about five or so inches, and had thick black hair down to her shoulders with straight-cut bangs. Her eyes are emerald green, but also change to a light hazel depending on her mood. Just like me, she has pale skin. Very pale. Almost like she never goes outside (which for the most part is true. Both of us spend most of our time indoors). She doesn't have perfect vision, and needs glasses. Recently, she got a set of contacts, and without her glasses her up-turned nose and roundish face make her look cute. She would never admit it, but she is cute. Unlike me, nerd-in-training. Griant's set of clothing was all black. With a few pairs of jeans. Other than that, she only wore black clothing. I've never been exactly sure why, although I suspect it's only to do with the whole "freedom of expression" deal.

As griant ran off with my (well... ok. So it was her) pen, I gave a slight nod to Kiel as I ran after her to steal it back. It didn't exactly help that she was much bigger (and stronger) than me. "You know..." I began, a teasing look in my eyes, "Kiel must like you." I held my hands up in a defensive pose, fending off her annoyed sputters. "Really. He keeps looking over at you." The ending of my sentence was choked out as I jumped to the side, dodging Griant's incomming foot. She gave me an indignant snort and kicked at me again. This time, I was ready.

"The day I die. He doesn't like me." There was a slight tinge of hope in her voice, that she was trying very hard to hide. She like Kiel, too. Almost every girl that saw him did. But not just because of his looks. I always liked teasing her, saying that the only reason she liked him was because he was the only guy that she could look up to. I get hit alot.

"Awww, Midori Kyokan. He does." I had recently began self-teaching myself Japanese. With the help of several Japanese/English speaking friends, and alot of patience. Griant was always trying to convince me to give up, and my use of Griant's nick-name translated into Japanese sent her into a rant of argument about how I can't learn Japanese.

I can so.