Everyone says I'm weird. No lie. They all say it. Even if it's not to my face, they're thinking it or whispering it behind my back. And all of this is only cause of my hair. It's bright pink. Not black with a few pink strands, no, it's hot pink all the way. And whenever someone asks, "Why the fuck did you dye your hair pink?" I simply reply, "Cause there wasn't any orange." The look on their face is priceless, absolutely freaking priceless.

But I've got this one friend, you didn't think I was a loner did you, ha, bet you did . . . anyway, he's got blue bangs. Only cause his mom never would let him dye his hair completely.

That's another thing! My parents don't care. Like literally, don't. You know when you get those kids who whine, "My parents hate me, they never pay attention to me," blah-dy frickin blah. Well, unlike those drama queens, my parents legitimately don't give a shit. I could walk into the room, on fire, and they'd be all, "Shut the fuck up, my show's on." They are screwedup. But I don't care either, ever since they slammed a car door on my leg when I was five; I've pretty much ignored them.

It's actually worked out pretty well so far. I get up, meet Chia, my blue haired friend, we go to school, sometimes skip, whatever we feel like, then I go home, and go to bed. You could say I have no social life, but I don't need one. Really I don't. I just need Chia, my laptop, and my ipod.

We were pretty tight, me and Chia I mean. We were like polar freaking opposites but we were inseparable and abnormally crazy together. It's quite amusing actually. I love him to death; we understand each other completely.

I mean, it's not like his parents are totally sane either. If it were possible, they'd probably go to school with him and feed him at lunch. They freaking smother the kid but he doesn't complain to me, well he does, but I don't mind and I don't even consider it complaining . . . just death wishes.

But then everything changed and he started avoiding me. I don't even know why! He just apparently decided that – – – I looked up from the stupid notebook on my desk. Someone was tapping at the window. Sighing, I threw the pen down, not caring if the ink spilled on the journal Mrs. Burnell, the school councilor was making me write. I yanked open the window and glared out.

"What'd you want, asshole."

"Oh hey to you too Troll." I rolled my eyes at the childhood nickname. Chia pushed past me into the room and I folded my arms. "We need to-."

"Talk? Oh I thought we were past that when you bailed on me last week and practically threw me out the window like a chewed dog toy." He flinched slightly at the analogy but I rolled my eyes, throwing a pillow at him.

"I heard you threw a football at Kyla's head Friday," he muttered, changing the subject, obviously.

"Yeah, so."

"What'd ya get for it?" he asked, ignoring my coldness. It was no use, so I shrugged, throwing my arm in the direction of the desk.

"Some stupid journal about my 'issues'," I responded, flopping onto the beanbag. I leant back, picking up my book but heard him inhale a sharp breath. I looked at him, eyebrow raised but he was avoiding my gaze. "Are you gonna just sit there?"

"I said we need to-."

"Yes, Xander, I can hear, but obviously, you've gone somewhat mute." He cringed at the use of his name.

"Sam," he sighed.

"Ah so you do know my name."

"Would ya shut up," he yelled, "Let me talk, Jesus."

"Why should I?" I screamed back, "You've been ignoring me for the past fucking week! Without a god damn reason, that's a bitch-ass thing to do, asshole."

"You sound illiterate when you swear."

"Fuck off." He smiled slightly but I glared at him.

"Sam," but I turned my back to him; looking out the window, "Samantha, c'mon." When I didn't phase, I heard him move and felt his arms around my waist.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I growled pulling his arms off. I turned around, looking at him and he pressed his lips against mine. Annoyed, I punched him in the gut and he grunted, stumbling back. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Jesus, Sam," he breathed, still bent over. I felt slight guilt but folded my arms, glaring at him. Finally, he stood straight looking me over and moved closer again.

"I swear to god, Chia, I'll," but his lips crashed down against mine. He had some nerve but, unconsciously, I wrapped my arms around him and he deepened the kiss, pressing his hips against mine; this was when I realized he had me pinned to the freaking wall. I felt his hands in my short hair and he pulled back, pecking at my lips a few times.

"That's what I was figuring out," he murmured and I stood silent for a while.

"Took you fucking long enough," I muttered before pulling him back towards me.