Beepbeep beepbeep beepbeep... Kurt cracked his eyes open, a gravely groan leaving his throat. He reached out and fumbled blindly for the snooze button on his phone, then immediately went back to sleep. It wasn't any better five minutes later.

This time, he slowly hauled himself out of bed. Kurt's room, the same one he'd been given when he was moved into this way-to-big house, was almost pitch black. His blackout curtains blocked any shed of daylight outside, and he didn't plan on opening them any time soon. He clicked on his lamp so that he could see and began to gather up the semblance of a wardrobe. It was probably time to do laundry. His favorite hoodie was sitting in the bottom of his dirty clothes hamper, along with most everything else he deemed worthy of wearing. The only things left were his last resort clothes: mostly things with his dad's band logo on it. He avoided wearing these for obvious reasons. Spite, mostly.

He dug into his shirt drawer and pulled out a crisply folded shirt. Kurt was shockingly neat for a teenage boy, almost obsessively so. The shirt was white with the light purple logo of his dad's band on the front. Kurt grimaced at the skeleton face, as it grimaced right back. He then pulled out his last pair of clean pants, a pair of jeans, black of course. They had frayed slits from the knee down, and he'd been told by multiple teachers not to wear clothes in holes in them to school. Honestly, it just went in one ear and out the other. When they start buying him clothes, then they could dictate what he could and couldn't wear.

Kurt set his day's outfit on his dresser for later, then shambled into the bathroom to take a quick shower and brush his teeth. He tossed his flannel pajama pants into the dirt clothes hamper, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His ribs protruded a bit too much, and his joints has become a bit too knobby. He knew it wasn't healthy, but what was he supposed to do? Go see a doctor?

Honestly, most of Kurt's problems could be solved by going to a Certified Adult™, but he was too scared of the possibility of being shipped off to a boy's home if he did. Trade in being forgotten about for the possibility of being actively abused? No thanks.

Kurt turned the shower on and stepped in, the hot water hitting his face waking him up a bit more. He didn't take long. Soon he was back out and towel drying his hair. He was sure that helped with it's general unruliness, but he'd discovered long ago that his curls were a force to be reckoned with regardless. He ran a comb through his dark brown mop, then brushed his teeth, got dressed, and headed to the kitchen to see what he could pull together.

The money fairy hadn't visited in a while. It had been over two months since his father had sent money. Kurt was down to his last 5 bucks. What would happen when he ran out? He'd cross that bridge when he came to it, he guessed. Kurt reached up and opened one of the cabinets to pull out a massive keg of nutrition drink powder. This stuff was pretty vile, but it was cheap and it was just about the only protein he got in his diet. He unscrewed the lid to find that he was down to his last scoop. Kurt sighed and rested his head against the wood of the cabinet in frustration for a second.

Finally, he got a cup and dumped the last of the powder in and mixed it with water. Kurt thought that using water made this stuff even less palatable, but he'd long since ran out of milk. He plopped down at the kitchen table and pulled out his phone as he sipped. He'd text his dad again, on the off chance that he hadn't changed his phone number and forgotten about his son for good.




Kurt had low hopes that he would respond. He couldn't help but wonder what he'd possibly done to tick the guy off. He hadn't even spoken to his father formally in over a year. The occasional text to remind him to pay the utilities or to send money was about it. And now he'd stopped doing that. What would he do if the lights got shut off? Or the house was repossessed? The thought made the chalky faux chocolate drink he'd just finished sit ill in his stomach. He pushed it from his head as he stood and took his glass to the sink. Maybe he'd respond this time.

Kurt made his way to the front door. Before he left, he slipped his feet into his favorite black boots and shrugged on his leather jacket. He grabbed his beat up old back pack (black, of course) and slung it over one shoulder. He shut and locked the door behind him and headed on his way up the block.

He didn't own a car, or even have a driver's licence, so walking or taking the city buses was Kurt's main mode of transportation. He didn't have enough money to spare for the bus, so...walking it was. Luckily the school was only a few blocks away. Kurt was still a little early as he came upon the school, so maybe he could sneak into the library and catch a couple Z's before the bell rang. His black boots scuffed the cement as he made his way up the front steps and slipped inside.

'A skeletal hand reached for Joseph's neck, it's cracking knuckles echoing throughout the darkness. It offered little more than a fright, the boy's flashlight failing him as they would, in a situation most dire. Though he reached for the blade offered by a trusty friend, he could not hinder the consuming blanket of doubt from washing over him. Joseph stumbled, his back hitting the dust filled planks nailed to the attic wall, his shivering frame nearly presenting him an unforgiving floo-..,' 

Lucifer's fingers danced across the keyboard in a rhythmic fashion, their constant contact with each key a second nature, before the young author's train of thought was abruptly halted. Turning his attention to the dog who had leaped onto his lap, the boy could do little but laugh, wrapping his arms around the plush, fluffy and soft body of his most beloved friend. "Hey, Cerberus," Lucifer nuzzled his nose against the canine's snout, earning a lick to the face.

"Lucy!" A voice rang out, earning the teenager's attention as he pushed his computer chair out, turning those large, brown eyes toward the corridor outside his room. "Get ready for school, kiddo'!" 

It was quite easy for the aspiring author to forget the passage of time while focused on that screen, his eyes scanning every single word as it traveled from this mind, towards his fingers and ultimately to the electronic device in front of him. Sadly, he could not spend every passing hour indulging himself in a world far more interesting than that of which he called hearth and home. "Wish I could bring you, Berry." Lucifer managed a soft sigh before standing, the dog still in his arms, "alas, my prince, I must leave you behind, for the crusade demands my attention..," Lucifer spoke dramatically, Cerberus looking at his owner with a tilted head. "Make this not harder than it is, Berry, I shalt return, of that I am sure..."

"Stop romancing the dog and get out!" The moment, one could say, was cut short. 

"Wait for me," Lucifer winked, placing a kiss on Cerberus' snout before returning the dog to the floor. He reached for his bag, tossed it over his shoulder and started out of the room, before abruptly stopping in his steps. Backtracking, Lucifer hurried to his computer and proceeded to save his updates, and shut down the program. "Bye, dad," the teen slipped into his shoes before earning a kiss to his forehead.

"You need a boyfriend, dude," James grinned, flicking his son's forehead, moments after it was kissed. 

"Can't you be bothered that I'm gay, like normal parents?" The boy smirked, rubbing his head from the vicious assault. 

"I grew used to it when you told me how hot Shakira's dress was, now go and learn stuff," James opened the door, chuckling before playfully pushing his son out.

"Adios, papa," Lucifer winked, offering his father a finger wave before his ears were subsequently covered by the earphones ever so often present upon his head. The two had a close relationship, to be sure, one others would think cringe-worthy or beautiful, considering. Though, for the young student, he had little interest in obtaining friends and even a smaller desire to engage with the gathering of crowds. Though a part of the art clique, one could say, Lucifer maintained a scarce presence, around others. They often found him odd, weird, or in lack of better terms, 'freaky'. He didn't mind, of course. In a way, he would 'wear it like armor', in the words of Tyrion Lannister. 

The boy lived close to Vinehurst High, a mere walk from the school, where he enjoyed listening to music and envisioning the next chapter of his story. He posted between two and three chapters every day in an episodic fashion for whomever to read, and had managed to acquire somewhat of a following. Though Lucifer enjoyed interacting with his fans, yes, he had those, they would be surprised to learn how secluded he actually was.

Even so, Lucifer was not afraid to break the stereotype. He was not shy, he simply did not seek company. He did not have bad self-esteem, he merely had nothing to prove. The author was hard to anger, and difficult to gain attention from due to his daydreaming nature, but he did have one button which conjured forth his namesake in a manner of seconds. He could still remember the day he punched another boy in the face for snatching Lucifer's notes from his hands. A meeting with the principle swiftly came to greet him, and authority was more shocked by the event than anyone else. Lucifer was, after all, an incredibly well-behaved boy. 

Just don't fuck with his notes.

Opening his locker, an onlooker would immediately see the neatly rowed stack of notebooks, and none of them were used for schoolwork. A builder had their workshop, and he had his. Having mastered the art of walking and writing simultaneously, Lucifer eventually dropped down on a bench, where he would proceed to wait for class to begin, his eyes firmly set on the pages in his hands.

Katia Corriveau
Location: Home

Katia Corriveau stayed up long hours playing games on her Xbox One X each night. She usually fell asleep with the controller in her hands. When her iPhone started making the awful noise she bolted up right. She found the controller buried under the covers. She placed it away in it's hiding spot. She grabbed her robe and went to her aunt's kitchen and made herself some breakfast. Mr. Whiskers the cat that adopted her aunt was on the kitchen counter. "Mr. Whiskers!" She said in a stern but low voice. The cat still didn't jump down. Katia picked up the cat and sat him on the floor. She got a can from the cabinet and poured it out into a saucer. Once the cat was eating she got her usual breakfast of diet shake, fruit, & vitamin supplements.

Back in her room she changed into her school clothes and a pair of pink sneakers. She grabbed her backpack. She tossed her everyday carry items into it along with her books. She was out the door just in time to see her boyfriend pull up.

Calien’s heart pounded as she was woken up by her ridiculously loud alarm. Flailing to find her phone and shut it off, she regretted choosing that particular song. Completely taken out of her comfortable sleep, though, she remembered why she did. It felt like the audio equivalent to a shot of espresso.

Basically, the day began exactly like every day since the start of the school year. Business as usual.

She quickly got out of bed, cleaning up and getting dressed in record time. She then, like clockwork, packed up her bag and made her lunch. As soon as she opened the container of cold cuts, her cat Tuxedo Mask started rubbing against her legs trying to convince her to give him some meat.

“Hello my handsome man!” She bent down to give him some love. He immediately flopped down on the floor and rolled over onto his back, purring like a motorboat.

After a few minutes of vigorous petting, Calien stood up again and washed her hands, as they were covered in cat hair now. Once she was done, she finished making her food and hurried out the door while she was still the only one awake. She slowed down a little once she started the walk to school, putting on her headphones and playing some music and letting her mind wander.

So far, Sophomore year had been nothing special. The mourning period that came with the end of summer had faded, leaving a feeling of somber resignation in its wake. The classes were shit, the people were... mostly shit, it was just a slow, painful journey to graduation.

For Calien, part of that journey was living a lie. Well, she didn’t like to think of it as a lie; it was more like acting. Playing the part of a Calien who was just a normal straight guy rather than, well, the exact opposite. It’s not like she really wanted to play that part, though. It’s just that things would be much worse for her if she was truthful.

Just make it to college. Then you can be as queer as your heart desires.

As she reached the school and entered the building, she put on her mask, trying to will into her body energy she didn’t have.

One day at a time.

“This has got to be the driest thing I’ve eaten in my life.”

“That’s because you’re not supposed to have toast on its own, dumbass. You need to put like, butter on it or something.”

“Yeah, well, you know what really butters my toast? Your mom.”

“What does that even — she’s your mom too, you fucking moron.”

“Oy, no swearing in my house! Jacob, do not talk about your mother like that, and James, shouldn’t you be getting to school?”

“Yeah, James. Shouldn’t you be getting to school?”

“Uh, yeah, Jacob. Shouldn’t you be getting a job?”

“Whatever, shithead.”

“Language!”

This was how most conversations in the Gershowitz household went — James ‘Sol’ Gershowitz and his older brother Jacob did their best to get on each others’ nerves, while their father tried (and failed) to keep them in check. It was something that drove their parents up the wall, but hey, it was all in the name of good fun; nothing like a little verbal jousting to liven up the monotony that was breakfast, right?

The two eldest Gershowitz brothers were off at college, leaving Sol and Jacob back home with their parents. Jacob was a fresh graduate of Vinehurst High, and was taking a year off to do some soul-searching, whatever the hell that meant. So far, however, this so-called soul-searching has consisted of nothing more than lazing around at home, and making Sol’s life a living hell.

Scarfing down the last of his breakfast, Sol stands up from the table, and dumps the dirty dishes in the sink to wash. “I’m headed to Sierra’s after school, so don’t save me dinner. We’re probably just gonna get takeout or something.”

“Again? Dude, is she like, your girlfriend?”

“Ha! You’re hilarious.” Sol’s delivery is completely deadpan, accentuated by a dull, withering stare with all the levity of a heart attack. Drying his hands off on a towel, he grabs his backpack from the floor, and heaves it over one shoulder. There’s still a little time before school started, but he figured he could just get his skate on before that. Board in hand, he starts to head for the front door, though not before giving his brother a smack upside the head.

“Ow! Screw you, asshole.”

“Seeya, loser. Bye, dad.” With a smug, self-satisfied smirk, Sol steps outside and hops on his skateboard, zipping down the street like greased lightning. This early in the morning, the streets were clear, and he lets himself maneuver to the center of the road. Skating was something he’d never get tired of, no matter how many times he did it. Hell, without this hobby of his, he’d probably be doing the same thing as Jacob — that is, not very much at all.

He passes by Sierra’s place on the way to school. It has become a familiar sight by now, and almost like a second home to him, considering how often he drops by. Naturally, he’d been anxious about imposing on the Jamesons’ hospitality at first, but after the first dozen times, he stopped worrying. Still, he didn’t want to just knock on their door first thing in the morning. Sierra’s mother could be kind of scary sometimes.

Slowing to a stop next to the curb, Sol pulls out his phone to fire off a few quick texts.



His phone goes back in his pocket, and then he’s off again. It only takes another five minutes for him to get to school, though he doesn’t head inside quite just yet. There’s something he wants to do first. A bunch of other students had just arrived, chatting amongst themselves about anything and everything. Sol deftly weaves through them towards his prize, eliciting a few shrieks of surprise along the way. With one foot planted firmly on the board, he pushes himself along with the other, going faster and faster until finally he reaches a set of stairs. Under his breath, he keeps count. One, two…

Three!

With a muffled ‘hup!’, he does an ollie that lands him on the railing. It’s not easy to stay balanced on the board while sliding so quickly downwards, but he manages to do so, and lands at the bottom of the stairs, knees bent to absorb some of the impact. Grinning, Sol lets out a small laugh, more out of excitement than anything. He could feel his heart pounding like a kick drum within his chest, matched by the pump of adrenaline through his veins. And then, it all came crashing down on him with the angry bellow of the resident hard-ass, Mr. Kovacs.

“Gershowitz! No skating on school grounds!”

Shit. He forgot all about that. Sheepishly, he slows down a little, circling back around to the school building. When he gets closer, he sees how red Mr. Kovacs has gotten from yelling at him from so far away, the man’s face glistening with a light sheen of sweat, kind of like a freshly-picked tomato. At the thought, Sol almost bursts out into laughter again, though he barely manages to hold it in by biting the inside of his cheek.

“Hey, uh, sorry about that, Mr. Kovacs. I was just—”

“Just get inside, Gershowitz. Unless you want to spend your afternoon in detention.”

“Oh-kay. Got it.” With a tight-lipped smile, Sol picks up his board and walks up the steps to get inside. He didn’t need to be told twice, that’s for sure.

Irene stirred beneath her soft, super warm, super comfy blankets when her cell began it's morning trills. She reached a hand, stained with several different hues of the rainbow towards the glowing candy bar of bright hot...stupid.

Irene glared at the offending phone many would view a stray bug that has gotten in smiting range, before she tossed the device back on the counter. She stumbled forward, a shock of bright red hair covering one eye as Lorelei stumbled forward.

"What a night..." She muttered to to herself, just to remind herself of the previous two nights. She'd put up a new bit of street art downtown, third floor, could be seen for a good distance. She knew as she'd just gotten a piece done in a prime spot, her name was going to catch some real attention now.

She'd chosen this place with a purpose, it was in range of her high school. Any student who walked to school, or looked out a window would be able to see her latest piece. It was her favorite mural to date, her signature Muse. She was larger then life, bright, fire red hair strewn down her back. A pair of black painted wings extended along the wall, she'd even painted a few of the feathers tumbling down the wall, leaving splotches of paint as they tumbled down the wall. Her favorite part was the eyes of her Muse, they were everything she couldn't be. She was shy, her eyes were always kept so close to shutting. As if someone could look into them, and see who she really was. She always kept her gaze down, unless she was painting.

It would be nice, that if she could look up on occasion, challenge that gaze. Just once, she could capture that look for a short time. Before she threw it right back at them...

Yet, that wasn't her. She was the painter, not the subject. Her role was to capture beauty, and let others look upon her. While she fell back out of the limelight. Drawing a simple flowery blouse and her "Fallen Angel" hoody. She quickly dressed herself as she got ready for school. As she stepped out of her bedroom, she closed her eyes as she stepped quietly through the house. Her father, Jean, was cooking breakfast, she smiled as the scent of bacon wafted around her.

"Hey," She muttered as she grabbed one of the stools by the table.

Jean nodded softly to his daughter as he dumped some scrambled eggs onto the plate, alongside a few strips of greasy bacon. Irene groggily took the plate, trying to hide her exhaustion as she nibbled on the eggs. As she ate, her father's voice broke the silence. "I heard you get back around 4 in the morning, you need some coffee?"

Irene felt her cheeks flush as she realized she had not gotten in as quietly as she hoped, "sorry, late study session with Ashe," she lied. Her father sighed as he looked at her paint-stained hands. "You know, those murals of Muses started appearing when we moved here, same style as your paintings before the gallery had you blackballed..." He commented carefully, trying not to directly accuse his daughter of her after-hour activities. Of course, Jean knew his daughter had taken on the moniker of "Muse" after the gallery incident, he just felt that if his daughter wanted an outlet to deal with her mother's loss, she could do worse.

Irene paused as she ate the remaining scrap of bacon, her eyes meeting her father. She promptly looked back to her plate, "I..." her voice hung in her throat, unable to process the next word. Irene gulped, her eyes going towards her backpack. "I'm not hungry, sorry da," she muttered as she picked up the pack full of art supplies, spraypaint, and sketchbook. "I need to get to class early today." She was lying, she just didn't want the uncomfortable conversation with her dad. "I have therapy after class, I'll make sure dinners ready by 7, the words fell listless as she left the house without another word.

Jean simply watched his daughter leave, before muttering to himself. "Ellie, you were always better with her..."

Irene quickly pulled her headphones over her ears as she left the house, losing herself in a song as she began walking to Vinehurst. The pounding beat of the music drew her away from her distractions, leaving her focused on the only thing that mattered.

Her art...

Her attention was knocked back to the real world as a student passed by her on a skateboard. She thought she knew who he was, Seoul, Soul, oh Sol! She tried to open her mouth to say something to him, but by the time she'd worked up to speaking. He was already too far away. She cursed herself under her breath as she kept walking. Eventually Vinehurst loomed up, a wretched building that probably covered the entrance to some stupid evil dimension. Irene slipped inside, and went to her locker. She'd arrived early due to the conversation with her father, her stomach grumbling about the current lack of bacon.

Irene began to sort through her locker, which was comprised mostly of sketchbooks, paint, markers, and a few bits of canvas she'd yet to turn into something more. The handful of granola bars she'd stashed in case she ever stayed late to work on a canvas were running low, but there was something at least. In a few minutes, Irene was now sitting against the locker with her sketchbook, crunching the granola bar with a mild sense of contentment. She heard a few students muttering about the mural that popped up nearby, Irene smiled to herself as she took another bite of the mint chocolate bar as she began sketching her next piece.

Tanner huffed out a breath, dropping the weight bar back onto the garage floor. He groaned as he straightened up, stretching his arms behind his head, his back giving a satisfying pop. He had enough time for a shower before leaving, which, as he smelt himself, he needed. He rubbed his eyes as he left the garage, going back into his house. He heard the sound of bacon sizzling in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and toast wafting through the air. His sister often called him nuts for getting up at four in the morning. But, Tanner was dedicated to his workout routine. He liked the quietness the morning brought, but he loved the bustling activity of his family in the morning. Especially hearing his sister's, Tabby’s, ramblings about something going on at school. He fondly rolled his eyes as he went upstairs to get ready for school.

He rushed his shower a little bit, the smell of bacon lingering in his nose. His stomach was reminding him how hungry he was. He didn’t dress in anything special, making sure to slip on his varsity jacket, something he rarely went without. He got downstairs in time to see a plate of bacon being put on the island. His sister immediately went for a piece, but their mother, Debra, slapped her hand away.

“Now, now, you know better. You must give your thanks before getting food,” she scolded lightly before resuming to butter the toast.

Tabby pursed her lips. “Thanks, God, amen,” she grumbled, going for the piece again without trouble.

“The best thanks I’ve ever heard,” Tanner said teasingly, ruffling his sister’s hair much to her dismay.

“Do not encourage her,” Debra said, but she was smiling down at the toast.

Tanner chuckled and gently nudged Tabby. “Thanks, God, amen,” he said, making Debra sigh and Tabby laugh, as he shoved a couple pieces of bacon in his mouth.

Tabby pulled a face. “Chew first.” she said, and Tanner flicked her nose before rushing around the island to get away from her slapping hands.

He made his protein shake, putting it in his shaker bottle, and grabbing a few other packs of his protein shake mix to slip to a certain somebody. “Where’s Dad?” he asked curiously, grabbing his backpack off a hook in the laundry room attached to the kitchen to shove the protein packs into.

“Went to the church early to get some paperwork in order,” Debra replied, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Won’t you eat more than a couple pieces of bacon and that shake?” she asked, eyeing the bottle in his hand with disapproval. She was a firm believer that breakfast was the most important meal of the day, and she thought Tanner never ate enough.

“I’ll be fine, just like every morning,” he said, slinging his backpack on, and hesitating near Debra. She was holding out a piece of toast with an eyebrow raised, and Tanner slowly took it. He knew not to challenge his mom. “I gotta go pick up Katia, so I’ll see you after practice,” he said, kissing Debra’s cheek, and walking around the island to give Tabby a hug.

“Don’t get toast crumbs on me!” Tabby complained, but she hugged him back.

“I am so glad you are still with Katia. Such a sweet girl. It’s so tragic what happened to her father,” Debra said.

Tanner forced a small smile. Debra always had to mention Katia’s father each time she was brought up. It was growing annoying, but he would never say that to his mother. He also hated all this lying he did. “Yeah, it really is. Um, gotta go!” he said, and took a bite of his toast as he left the kitchen. “Love you guys!” he called back as he juggled his things to open the front door.

His parents had surprised him with his car for his sixteenth birthday. They didn’t go cheap, either. His baby sat pretty in the driveway, the black paint glimmering in the sunlight. He got in, leaving the top up unless Katia said she wanted it down. After washing his toast down with his protein shake, he was off. His car snarled down the road, his custom stereo system softly playing early 2000s music. He had a bit of soft spot for the pop and rock of that time.

It didn’t take long for him to drive to Katia’s. She didn’t live too far from his house, thankfully. He pulled up to her house, taking a deep breath as he shut the engine off. Okay, he could do this. Today, the guilt was weighing a little heavier, but he could do this. He had been doing it for months, surely another month or two wouldn’t hurt… or until graduation. He was such a bad person. He took another deep breath before he began to get out of the car, with the intent to go knock on the front door to let Katia know he was here.

It was still early, but a lot kids were starting to pour into the halls. Kurt weaved in between them easily, as most people naturally avoided any kind of contact with him. That suited him just fine, to be honest. He stopped at his locker to put his backpack away.

Kurt had been given the same locker since he started high school at Vinehurst, yet this year they had decided to change it. Now, Kurt's locker was wedged in between Katia's, one of the school's resident plastic cheerleaders, and Rubin's, the hockey captain. Needless to say, Kurt hated it. He spun the combination lock on his locker until it popped open and shoved his bag inside. He was just about to leave when said hockey captain rolled up with a posse of his fellow jocks.

Now, Rubin was a special kind of guy. For every pound of muscle rippling over his body, he had about 8 oz of testosterone to match. He was known for getting into fights on the ice and was particularly hot headed. But, he won games and got asses into seats at the stadium, so he saw very few consequences for his actions. He was also particularly stupid. No one had proven that the guy's brain wasn't a solid piece of black rubber, and Kurt couldn't be told otherwise.

The jock was busy talking loudly with his buddies. Kurt frowned and moved to get around them, but then something caught his eye. Rubin had shoved what appeared to be a crumpled five dollar bill into the net pocket on the side of his back pack. Now, Kurt knew what he was about to do was basically suicide, if he was caught. But he only had five dollars to his name for a unspecified amount of time, and desperately needed more protein powder. Ten bucks would buy a whole keg.

He eyed the bill, then opened his locker again to pretend he'd forgotten something. While his face was blocked by the door, Kurt slipped his thin fingers into the pocket and gently tugged the bill out. He balled it into his hand and pocketed it quickly. For a second, he thought he was in the clear.

"Yo, what the fuck?!"

Oh shit.

One of the orbiting jocks had seen him do it. Kurt braced for impact. He felt a meaty hand clasp his shoulder and haul him away from his open locker. Kurt, weighing about a third of any one of the guys in front of him, tumbled out into the middle of the hall.

"You wanna' tell me what your greasy hand is doing in my bag, asshat?"

Kurt didn't bother trying to explain himself. His intentions had been pretty clear. His dark blue eyes narrowed at the beefy jock as he saunter towards him. His heart was beating too fast for the amount of calories he'd eaten over the last couple days. Kurt could feel a dizzy spell coming on.

"Well?!"

Did he really expect an answer?

Rubin shoved the skinny teen again, pushing his lanky body into the lockers behind him face first. Kurt slammed into the metal doors, rattling the whole row. His face suddenly felt hot and wet; blood was oozing from his nose from the impact. He turned to face the pack of hockey players again, wondering if he could make a run for it. Probably not. Kurt could feel the light, swimming feeling of a fainting spell pulling him in.

"Oh shit," He heard just as he was starting to get tunnel vision. The already pale little punk had turned white as a sheet, and mixed with the bright red blood dripping from his nose onto the floor, the jocks probably thought they'd legitimately committed a homicide. Kurt slumped back into the lockers again, his bony back dragging down the cool metal as he sank to the floor. The hockey players quickly dispersed, and he was too busy trying to stay conscious to see where they went. Not that it mattered. What was he going to do? Fight them?

A cluster of teenagers had already began to pool around him, everyone wanting to see if Rubin would actually murder someone. Kurt was sure they were pretty disappointed when he scurried off, but now at least they got to see some blood. Like the animals they were, they gawked and shouted, but no one was really interested in moving in to help. If they touched him, they might catch the weird.

---

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The only thing that was really audible within the confines of her room this morning was the marimba alarm, which had woken her up. Her lengthy arm stretched out and grabbed the device and putting a halt to the alarm. She sat up back first against an array of pillows holding her up as she wrapped her blanket tightly around her like a cocoon. She had been reigning Queen Bee for about a month and a week now and she was definitely up for the task of continuing her reign. With a slight groan, she unwrapped herself and stood upright now, stretching her arms above her head then proceeded to her bathroom with her phone in hand.

Dominique opened her playlist and started playing Chun Li by her favorite female rapper, Nicki Minaj. She even mumbled some of the lyrics to herself as she was getting prepped for school. Once she was showered, dressed and her hair laid, Dominique did one final review in the mirror before she took multiple pictures and posted them on Instagram, receiving many likes within the minute. "Time to go and give them hell." Dominique muttered to herself in the mirror before she grabbed her purse and exited her room, walking down the stairs and entering the dining room.

"Morning, Heather." Her mother eyed her and scoffed under her breath. "It's mother. I have told you that countless of times." Dominique rolled her eyes slightly because she felt like it was her mother's fault for the divorce. "Anyways, is my breakfast ready, Maria?" Maria, the servant came and gave Dominique her breakfast as she was responding to comments on Instagram. She did manage to thank Maria in the process though.

She ate breakfast rather quickly this morning then stood up with a sigh. "Well, see ya' later, Heather." Before her mother could get anything out, Dominique had already grabbed her car keys and was out the front door. When she got into her 2017 Nissan Maxima, light blue in color, she sat her purse in the passenger seat then pulled out her iPhone X from her purse. She just had to send at least two texts out to her favorite people.



She ended both messages with an emoji, which was kind of her specialty as she placed her phone inside of her cupholder then reversed out of the driveway. Dominique had hoped that her parking space wasn't taken like it was the whole first week and if it is, there was damn sure going to be hell to pay. She had started her drive towards the school and had hoped that someone she knew was already there, at least.

Katia Corriveau & Tanner Palmer
Location: Katia’s Frontporch, Tanner's car, School Parking Lot

Katia waved at Tanner as he approached. She didn’t see her aunt’s car in the drive way. She immediately assumed her aunt was out late with work, it most likely wasn’t work but another in a long line of ‘boyfriends’ but Katia always assumed she stayed late at the office working on a case and fell asleep on her office sofa, which did happen on occasion.

“Tanny!” The one thing she liked most about Tanner after the fact he never pushed to go farther than she was comfortable with was his car. She came up with the nickname Tanny from Tanner’s sister. She would never refer to him as that in front of Tabby. She ran to him and gave him a hug. She could smell the bacon on his breath. “I hope you brought me some. You know auntie doesn’t allow meat in the house ever since she decided we had to go vegan. Eugh!”

Tanner thought Katia looked really beautiful, and he wished he could feel attracted to her. He really did. He wanted to be able to actually love her, yet here he was, leading her on. He immediately hugged her back, momentarily burying his face into her hair, a little bit of comfort he didn't deserve. He laughed at what she said, pulling back to look at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't get any extra. We can stop somewhere and get you breakfast to eat on the way, if you want," he said, and had to resist laughing. "How long is this vegan phase going to last, I wonder? I'll have to start sneaking you meat now," he took her hand, beginning to lead her to the car.

“Maybe three more weeks. She purged all the meat last weekend including chicken sandwich I was eating. Got breakfast.” she held up her breakfast. “It’s what I normally have.” She opened the diet drink and began to drank it.

"Right, right," Tanner said, starting up the car, and throwing her a smile. "So, for three weeks, you can come over to my house and have dinner." he began to pull onto the street, and playfully waggled his finger at her, "Remember, if you spill anything in this beaut, you clean it up!" he was joking, of course. It was leather seats, they wouldn't get hurt too bad. He heard his cell phone beep with a text message, though he'd have to wait until he got to the school to check it. He didn't make texting and driving a habit.

"I would love to but your mother always makes it awkward. Besides with the credit card auntie gave me I can buy whatever I need or want. She never looks at the bill and if she ever does, and sees a burger joint on there I can just point out they have a salad option. Not lying if I don't say I ordered one and just let her assume that." She took a swig from the drink she brought.

Even if Tanner disagreed with Katia about the lying, he couldn't say anything, anyway. After all, he was lying to her in a huge way. "Yeah, Mom is..." he sighed, pulling into the school parking lot. After he parked and shut the car off, he turned to Katia. "She means well, Kat. I would love for you to come over one day, but I get it if you feel too uncomfortable," he told her, reaching over to squeeze her knee with a kind smile directed at her before he was getting out. He slung his backpack on, grabbing his bottle, before checking his phone. He laughed at the text message from Domi. "Your head cheerleader is something else," he said to Katia, shaking his head as he quickly typed back, patience is a virtue, domi ;D

Brody slept like the dead, the sound of his alarm beeping obnoxiously failed to stir him. It wasn’t until the sound of his father, fist banging against his door and slurred voice shouting at him, that he finally rose.

“Boy, you shut that damn thing off or I swear to god-” His old man yelled, he jiggled the door knob but Brody always slept with his door locked; after you get woken up with a kick to the ribs a few times you learn. When the door didn’t open, the man knocked louder.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s off.” Brody said, frantically turning off the clock radio that sat on the floor next to his mattress. He heard his old man grumble something and shuffle off. He got up and rummaged through the clothes piles in his room, searching for the clean pile. He grabbed some clothes, his shoes, and backpack and threw them near his bed. He unlocked his door and peaked out of his room, the old man had passed back out in his own room which meant he was safe to use the bathroom without any more unpleasant encounters.

After a shower, he returned to his room and got ready for school. Everything but his shoes, socks, and boxers were from the thrift store; faded jeans with naturally occurring ripped up knees that was just a bit too big and too long for him, an old, faded, Iron Maiden t-shirt, and a red flannel shirt. His shoes, black and gray Etnies, had seen better days, but he’d keep wearing them until they literally fell apart. He grabbed his wallet and phone and shoved them into his pockets and threw his backpack over his shoulder. Before he left the house, he threw on a snapback and grabbed one of his boards,

As soon as he was outside his wheels hit the pavement; skating was his preferred method of getting around although to make it to school on time meant catching a bus for part of the way. Before heading to the bus stop he stooped at one of the corner stores for a red bull, a cheap sleeve of donuts, and a pack of Camel Blue’s; the guy at the corner store never asked for ID. At the bus stop he ate the white powdered donuts, drank the red bull, and smoked a cigarette while waiting. He flicked the almost finished cigarette into the street just as the bus pulled up.

He got off the bus after a few stops and skated the rest of the way to school. He made to the campus just in time to see Sol catch some air only to earn a lecture from Mr. Kovacs. In his opinion, Kovacs was a total douche, last year he had literally told Brody that ‘if he caught him using school grounds as his personal half pipe he’d put his board in a wood chipped,’ like what a jackass. He said nothing to the nerds who rode their bikes to school but was always picking on the skaters. But, since today his target seemed to be Sol, Brody rolled past him giving the man’s back the finger and sticking his tongue out as he passed, and hoping Sol saw him do it.

Upon reaching the front door he pushes down on the tail of the board until and turns toward the door stopping quickly, Brody then steps off and gives the tail of his board a quick pop and catches the front truck in his hand. He headed towards his locker but before he made it there he noticed a small crowd had formed in the hall. They were like sharks that smelled blood, and it usually meant one thing, a fight. When he got closer however it seemed like he had missed all the action and found Kurt slumped down by some lockers with a freshly bloody nose. Brody approached and sat next to Kurt and sat his board on his other side.

“Man you couldn’t even make it to homeroom without startin’ a fight. I’m not mad bro, just, like, disappointed. Mostly that you didn’t wait for me and, hey man, you should pinch your nose and lean forward, you look anemic enough as it.” Brody teased his friend as he leaned against the cool lockers, noticing that he looked a bit paler than usual. Man, for a guy who looked like the wind could blow him away he certainly had a talent for finding trouble. Brody liked that, Kurt was scrappy like an alley cat, never doing what was in his best interest. They had a more than a few things in common besides shitty dads which was probably why they got along pretty well.

“Whatcha think, Skellington, you need an escort to the nurse? She’s always hooking me up with apple juice and ice packs. Or you know we could plot, like, sweet, sweet, revenge on our enemies.” Bordy kept rambling on, Kurt looked like he might pass out so he was hoping to give him something to focus on.

Upon seeing that no futher blood would be shed, the crowd began to disperse in disappointment. Kurt was slumped, half conscious, against the lockers, his nose bleeding all down the front of his crisp, white shirt. He felt nauseated and hot.

Then, a familiar voice began to pull him back out. Kurt groaned, his gutteral voice even worse sounding with the gurgle of blood in the back of his throat. He opened his eyes and turned to see Brody, one of his best friends, sitting next to him. His words floated around Kurt's head like he was hearing it from a different room, but the boy's presence gave him something solid to focus on. Slowly, the hazy fog began to dissipate.

Kurt just registered what Brody had been saying. The nurse's office? He shook his head. He avoided it like the plague. She would undoubtedly try to call his non-existent parents.

He followed Brody's advise and pinched his nose with one bony hand, then signed with the other.

"Can you help me to the bathroom?" He grunted as he tried to stand on shaky legs. No doubt his blood sugar was desperately low. But he scored that five bucks, though. The jocks had scurried off and forgotten to get it back. Kurt didn't intend on reminding them either.

As she continued sketching, Irene watched as the masses began to file into the halls.

Of course, she had a knack for being invisible. Often this was a benefit, she was just the artist, she liked having her art speak for her. Putting her head down, she continued working on her next piece. A massive crash elicited a small squeak from her as she looked up.

One of the jocks had pinned someone against the lockers, she looked about for a teacher, or someone who could actually stop this.

Of course, nobody was there. Irene felt her pulse quicken as she heard the sickening sound of the jock punching the student, and the sight of everyone crowding around the injured boy. Irene slipped past the students as she realized the others were dissipating. She noticed another student had come to help the lanky boy up, Irene realized it was Kurt who'd gotten into the fight. She'd seen him in a few classes, he blended in just like she did.

"Are you okay?" she asked as the other student, she realized was Brody was helping him to his feet. Irene looked at Kurt worried, he was really really pale. Maybe he needed something? What was it you gave people who donated blood again? Irene looked at Kurt, concerned and trying to figure out how to help. "Need a drink or something?" Irene asked, fidgeting her fingers against the sketchbook as she realized, she was really really useless in a situation like this....

Brody’s gesture towards Mr. Kovacs doesn’t go unnoticed by Sol, and he lets out a noise halfway between a snort and a laugh that he quickly muffles into his fist. There weren’t many in Vinehurst that would risk tempting the wrath of Mr. Kovacs. Like some kind of Dementor-esque creature, the man seemed to possess an unrelenting urge to suck the joy out of everything he laid his beady, little eyes upon. Thankfully, there were still a few remaining bastions of courage who dared to stand against his tyranny — Brody being one of them, of course.

Sol heads off in a different direction when he gets inside to where his locker was. When he opens it, he’s immediately hit with the overwhelming stench of day-old bologna. The sandwich in question was half-eaten, with sporadic bites taken out of the side. Sol is a little flabbergasted by the discovery, before remembering how he was the one who left it there just a day prior. With as much delicacy as he could muster, he extricates the sandwich from its perch atop his algebra textbook, and dumps it into the nearest trash can, shuddering in disgust.

“Yo, come check this shit out!”

A gaggle of sophomores rush past him, and Sol has to press himself flat against the wall to avoid getting trampled. There was a crowd gathering around the other end of the hallway, though all that shouting made it hard to tell what was happening. Shoving his skateboard into his locker, he slams the door shut before jogging over. He gets there just in time to see Rubin and his lackeys hightail it out of there, the crowd parting around them like the Red Sea.

As quickly as it’d formed, the mob was already starting to thin out. Sol supposed they could sense that the show was over. Still, a few stragglers that remained, gawking, and for once, Sol was thankful that he’s tall enough to peer over their heads.

“Kurt!” There’s a brief moment where Sol just freezes, very much akin to a deer in headlights. And then, the realisation that his friend was right there, bleeding on the floor seemed to jolt him out of his daze. He takes a step towards Kurt, but stops when he sees that Brody was already helping him up. “Dude, are you alright? You look like shit.”

It takes a while for him to notice, but there’s someone else there, too — a redhead with a soft voice, clutching a sketchbook. What was her name again? In that moment, Sol couldn’t quite recall, but whatever it was, she seemed to have good intentions, and that was enough for him.

“Yeah, I think he needs something to eat.” Sol pauses, assessing the state Kurt was in. “Or drink.”

Going to the nurse would’ve been the logical thing to do, but Kurt was as stubborn as a mule. Trying to get him there would undoubtedly be an ordeal, so instead, Sol volunteers to run to the cafeteria and get him like, chocolate milk or something, because Kurt looked to be about two seconds away from passing out.

“He’ll be fine.” Sol refrains from adding an ‘I hope’ to the end of that sentence, and shoots Brody a smile he hoped was reassuring. No use freaking out the bystanders, after all. “Right, Brody?”

“I’ll be back! Just don’t die, okay?” With that, he heads off towards the cafeteria, tossing a worried look over his shoulder as he rounds the corner.

Katia Corriveau
Location: School

“Adieu Tanny.” Katia never used her locker. Way to many people were always around it. Today as she passed by it, it was even worse some sort of commotion was going on involving a guy who looked like he had a vampire fetish based on how pale he always looked. She went to her first class and set down exactly in the middle and waited for the to begin. She checked her makeup and touched it up. Still the only one to arrive, she pulled out her phone.

To Domi 😘:
😱 Y u txtin my man? Don’t b trying 2 steal him, he’s mine. 🤣 JK! How u doin girl? Did u c d commotion by my locker? 🧛‍♂️ dud looked like he was getting his ass kicked.

To Tanny 😍:
Texted Domi not to try & steal you from me. 🤣 😆 She knows I'm JK. Did u c d commotion by my locker? 🧛‍♂️ dud looked like he was getting his ass kicked. So not 😎.

She was about to fire off another text when people started to fill in, but more importantly the teacher was one of them. She put her phone on silent & put it away.

Brody helped Kurt to his feet and nodded at his request not to involve the nurse. Out of a hallway full of people only one other person had come over to help Kurt, Irene, a girl he recognized from art. He recognized her because last year he had spent more time noticing her than actually working on whatever he was supposed to be doing in class. She was wicked talented, while Brody could barely manage to draw a stick figure, and he was always impressed with people who could create something beautiful from the most basic of supplies. For a split second, he forgot about Kurt, and the geyser of blood that had been flowing from his nose, and only noticed the attractive redhead offering to help them, usually girls avoided them in an attempt to not catch the weird.

He snapped back to attention when he heard Sol shout Kurt’s name. Oh right, Kurt, the guy that’s bleeding and about to pass out. We should probably focus on that. He thought as Sol started to freak out and then run off to find something for Kurt to drink before the guy passed out. He nodded to Sol when he asked if Kurt was gonna be okay, it was just a bloody nose after all, chances of survival were very high. “Of course, he’s gonna be fine. He added insuring those around him. He glanced back at the very pale Kurt. “No worries bro, Sol’s gonna get you 500cc’s of Mountain Dew, stat, we can save you, we have the technology.” He assured his friend in his most dramatic voice. He kept close to Kurt just in case he did actually pass out, that way he could at least make sure he didn’t hit his head too hard or anything.

The flyers for the upcoming Halloween dance were everywhere. About a week ago, Calien had taken one home and pinned it on her wall so she wouldn’t forget about it. She wasn’t exactly into school dances, but it was Halloween and she didn’t have any other plans. She didn’t want to spend her favorite time of the year sitting alone in her room watching scary movies all night like she had last year.

She was a bit nervous about her costume, though. It showed… a bit more skin than she was used to, but it was of a character she really liked and she was planning on wearing it to a local convention later in the year. The dance was sort of a test run.

Almost as soon as she opened her locker, Calien was pulled out of her thoughts by a sudden commotion across the hall. The noise made her jump, and then she was nearly knocked over by the quickly forming crowd of spectators for the apparent fight. By the time she managed to get what she needed out of her locker and close it, everyone had dispersed, except for what looked like the loser of the fight and a few of his friends.

Calien considered asking if he was okay, but it looked like his friends had the situation handled. Avoiding eye contact with anyone, she left for her class.

Kurt groaned as he stood with the help of Brody. He picked his head up to see Irene standing in front them, asking if they needed help. Oh lord. Every year, in their shared class after Brody's art class, Kurt had to listen about how much Brody liked redheads, and freckles, and how amazing her art was. He suspected the art wasn't what Brody was looking at 90% of the time. He knew he'd lost Brody for a second, but, luckily, his other best friend rolled up.

Sol was a solid guy. When he said something about getting Kurt a drink, he nodded. Chocolate milk was about the only thing the cafeteria had on a regular basis that he could eat. He was a big fan.

Once he was up, and feeling a little more steady, he began to shuffle towards the bathroom up the hall. Brody rattled off another joke, and he rolled his eyes a bit.

"You're hilarious," He signed, the sarcasm dripping from his hands.

Hannah looked herself over in the full length mirror leaning against her bedroom wall. Her outfit was smoking, she thought. She would knock people down with it. She couldn't wait to hear the clicking of the black heels in the school's hallways. That usually gained attention. Her beauty alone usually gained the attention, but there was nothing wrong with having a little bit of help. She kissed her first two fingers, before pressing them to the mirror, where her face was. "Slay 'em, girl," she whispered to herself, winking, before leaving the room.

She walked downstairs, humming to herself. Ever since they moved to a smaller town, they haven't been able to have as many luxuries. A personal chef was someone that only came a few times a week, since they came from a larger town for a higher fee. Her parents had tried to convince them to move here, but the chef refused. It meant her mother actually had to step up some. They have a maid all the time, at least.

Hannah heard curses coming from the kitchen, the voice sounding like her mother's. Hannah rolled her eyes before entering the room. "Good morning, mother," she said cheerily, walking over to the fridge to get a bottled smoothie out of the fridge. She shook the bottle as she turned to see her mother peering into the dishwater.

"Stupid maid, didn't start the damn thing! I'm out of coffee mugs!" the woman said in lieu of greeting, straightening up and kicking it shut. "Ooh, the mouthful she will get."

"I wish I could be here for it," Hannah sighed, starting towards the door. She didn't want to stick around for long. She hated talking to her mother. All the woman did was complain.

"Oh, wait," her mother called, rushing after her. Hannah had to suffer through a hug and kiss on the cheek. Ever since they moved here, her mother had tried being there more, but Hannah didn't really care. "Have a good day, sweetie. Let me know how it goes," she said, smiling.

Hannah forced a smile. "Okay," she said, but she would never tell her mother about her life outside of this house. The only thing her mom knew was that she was dating a hockey player, and that was as far as the information went.

Hannah left quickly after, getting in her brand new car that she had demanded to have. The commercial made it look so pretty and shiny. The drive to school wasn't too bad. She lived a little further out, since her house and the property it sat upon was massive, but her speeding always got her there in record time. If she got pulled over, she would just bat her pretty little eyelashes and say who her daddy was. That got her out of a ticket every time.

She found a parking spot fairly close to the entrance, and didn't hesitant to jump out. She was ready to show off how good she looked. She walked past Tanner's car, spotting the football captain next it. He was staring down at his phone, looking slightly concerned. Hannah didn't care though. She was distracted by all the eye candy. Such a sexy car and boy. She whistled at him, giving a finger wave.

"Hey there, Tan-Tan!" she called, but didn't slow down. She made sure she swayed her hips as she walked away, just knowing he was watching (he wasn't).

She entered the school, stopping by her locker to grab her first period book. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as a couple students walked by. After that, she turned the corner, and saw that really skinny boy, ugh, what was his name? Kevin? Kemp? Kent? ... Kevin? She racked her brain as she drew closer to the little crowd. Two friends were with him by the time she spotted him, all bloody and looking like shit... well, more than usual, at least. Kurt! It was Kurt! Oh gosh.

She noticed some skater punk and an annoying art girl with him. The losers had to stick together, she guessed. She slowed down a little as she passed, cooing. "Oh my!" she gasped, putting her hand over her heart. She dramatically batted her widened eyes, lips parted. "Poor thing! I hope you aren't too hurt, Kurt," she said, giving a smile. "Good thing you have such nice friends," she winked at Brody, not even glancing at Irene. "Tsk tsk. You should go to the nurse. I would help more, but the sight of blood," she put her hand to her forehead, swaying, "It makes me so woozy! Get better, hon." she gave Kurt another concerned once over before walking off, her heels clicking loudly against the tiled floor.