Prologue: Superman was so bi-polar...

Every time you read a romance novel, the main character is usually female and is either pathetic or wimpy. She's actually quite pretty, but for some reason, doesn't look in the mirror and notices that she is good-looking. As soon as she applies make up and wears contacts, she turns from an ugly duckling to a beautiful swan. She's stereotyped as lonely, nerdy or mysteriously unknown to the tacky, yet typical people around her. For some reason the cocky, arrogant, or possibly silly hot guy, notices her and they fall in love.

That's shit. Admit it.

And I'm nothing like that.

Name ten people you know that have actually lived out a proper high school cliché.

And why do all heroines seem to lack in something important: self-esteem?


A realistic respect for or favourable impression of oneself; self-respect.

An inordinately or exaggeratedly favourable impression of oneself

Well, I'm just babbling the stuff. I own self-esteem. I'm just that cocky, which I think is good. At least I can look in a mirror without feeling the need to go and puke in the toilet.

Off-topic. Sorry.

If I didn't make it clear, I'm a rebel, misunderstood, and badly behaved; in other words, a teenage girl. I'm Drew Carson, not Carson Drew – that's Nancy Drew's father, if it is familiar at all. I also can be classified as a bitch, a revolutionary and most of all, trouble.

If you described my behaviour to me, you'd automatically guess that I was a boy. I play football, shoot spit balls –still - and like to crack the" your mum" joke. I can prove to you that I'm bad; I'm in detention for the third time this week, but it's only Tuesday. I had one afterschool and one at lunch on Monday, and another after school today. Impressive, right? I'm just waiting for my friend, Spencer, to call me and bust me out with one of our awesome excuses.

My best friend is a boy called Spencer Worms; I use the word "boy" for a reason. And sometimes you can't judge a person by their name - but hell - not with this boy, the impression his name gives you is what you get. He has your typical all American boy jock but he's disgusting (nose picking, bug collecting, adores fishing kind of disgusting) , daring and impulsive - the gorgeous sapphire eyes, the blonde hair, the Abercrombie poster boy look, Spencer Worms has that covered. We've been friends since second grade, when Spencer actually ate a worm. No kidding, his last name is his personality. He's quite fearless and is my accomplice in trouble.

My other best friend is, well, my alter ego. Lilly Harding is a prep. There's not much I can add to that, but she's not stupid; she doesn't let any guy take advantage of her and she isn't out there for popularity. Lilly just falls into the category of popular prep, she just happens to be a blonde who just happens to like Juicy Couture, Abercrombie and just adores boy bands and follows Britain's Got Talent and X-Factor religiously. And the best part is, she doesn't even realize it.

They were the typical people in detention, Jonah Blackwell, Matt Glass and Alex Jacobs. Alex lived in the detention room; he's always in here. He might as well have killed somebody the way the teachers treat him. But we all know he's puffing the magic dragon, there's something up his sheesha alright. Sheesha, Hookah - you've got to love that, hook-arrr-, water pipe, hubbly bubbly whatever you call it, but he likes to spice up his with coke. Not produced by the Coca-Cola Company.

But the thing that I had on my mind today wasn't who I usually see in the room, truth be told, there was some kind of nerd behind me. He had thick black rim glasses, jet-black hair and he slumped in a weird way in his seat. Since when did nerds get detention? He looked like Clark Kent, for God's sake.

I didn't directly look at him; I used my make up mirror to look at him. The room was quite quiet because Mr. Satan was on detention duty, which didn't go down well with him. He gave us lectures on how we weren't contributing society, blah, blah, blah.

He was a stout man, a thick greasy beard, long nasty grimy fingernails and a breakfast stain down his shirt. He's the reincarnation of Gregory Rasputin –look him up. Eew. Mr. Satrosken, a horrible last name, grumbled some indecent words and left the room.

For a second we all stayed silent and then the talking began.

"What's the crime this time, peeps?" Jonah asked.

The four of us, not even acknowledging the nerd behind me, were all too familiar with each other. We could be called a detention club. We're always here. Outside of the dreaded E31, we never spoke to each other, maybe the occasional smirk of acknowledgement.

"Smoking," Matt said, this was quite typical for Matt; he had a bad smoking addiction and that was probably all I knew about him. It was the only thing he got into detention for, smoking.

Alex smirked with pride, "Sex."

The other guys cheered and I made a sick gesture.

It was my turn. "Indecent behaviour, inappropriate dressing and tampering with the interactive white board." I smiled to myself and Jonah clapped.

"Stealing library books and sexually harassing, as well kissing the librarian's cheek."

We all burst out into laughter. The librarian was an old woman with bad fish breath who constantly groaned and moaned about anything possible.

We all abruptly turned to the boy who was sitting behind me. He'd better have a good one; a wimpy reason for detention doesn't get you approval in E31. You need to be bad, rebellious, make a scene...

"Being rude to a teacher," he said, almost embarrassed of it. And rightly so, pathetic much. Gee, I get away with being rude to teachers all the time. He's actually embarrassed that he broke a rule. Most definitely a nerd and a wimpy one at that.

Unimpressed, I went back to doing nothing and soon Mr. Satan came back in with his lightning steps and his low thunder muttering and grumbling. He's a walking storm of anti-fun, he's a Chekist - Google it, darling but if you're cool, Ask Jeeves. He dismissed us and then we exited the room in a morbid manner. I felt the eyes of the new kid on my back, X-ray vision or something. I smirked and giggled to myself; I knew exactly what he was staring at. He was afraid to really think about what it was.

"Ummm," he said and I spun around quickly to look at him, not even trying to hide the smirk on my lips. "D-do- you k-know-?" he stammered in an extremely uncomfortable way. Poor Clark Kent kid.

I snapped my hands to freak him out even more, I stomped my foot forward and burst out, "Of course, I know I have a clean sanitary towel stuck to my back, what do you think I got detention for?"

He sized me up; of course, he thought my clothes were actually inappropriate; I was wearing a white baggy T-shirt, a very small black mini skirt and my black garter. In any other school that would be like ten dress code violations. The sanitary towel was of course Spencer's doing, but I'd gone with it. It was clean, he just peeled it off and slammed on my back like a classic "kick me" note.

"Look kid, this isn't your typical high school. Yes, we have all the stereotypical cliques, but there's more to it; the popular kids are way more than stupid and mean, the jocks are tricky, conniving and planning, the nerds are dangerous and girls like me live on the edge of it all, leading the anti-social behaviour and have their constant battle with the jocks and nerds, who actually have an alliance."

He looked at me impressed; Clark Kent was too much of a new dorky kid for his own good.

"Drew Carson, not Carson Drew," I said, extending my arm out for a handshake.

"Jack Birchfield," he responded and took my arm.

Wow, was he nerdy? He even pushed up the glasses and everything.

I walked to my locker and he was behind me – he probably had a locker near me.

Turns out his locker are next to mine. I had specifically made out that only Lilly and Spencer could have lockers near me; anyone else would be prying ears and an annoying presence.

He took off his glasses and went through his locker casually; he straightened out and looked more chilled than earlier. I dumped a few books in my bag.

He looked at me without his glasses. He looked quite different, and then he passed me a note on lined paper. What had just happened? My imagination must be over active.

'You turn my floppy disk into a hard drive.'

Oh. My. Um. God?

I wasn't sure if I was dealing with a nerdy pervert who was afraid of sanitary towels, or that Clark Kent had just become Superman before my very eyes.