((lol, usually my intro's/bio's are the only really long things. They started out *really* simple, but them kept adding little things to them. Well... they exploded. Don't freak, my posts get way shorter as time goes on. Thanks, though!))

Westley noted the people around him, most of which payed him little mind. He watched the girls in front of him p*censored* notes on a sheet of paper, occasionally giggling at what the other had written. He also noticed a boy who had a cell phone out and was punching keys furiously and the girl next to him sinking low into her seat. She was looking out the window, and though this seemed normal, something about her posture made her seem unconfortable, as if she was thinking deeply. Westly only turned back to the teacher, but found that he wasn't able to consentrate. So he slipped a notebook out of the front pocket of his cello case (he preffered to keep his cleaning stuff inside his cello, and never carried around sheet music) and opened up the spiral to about half way through. 

This was one of Westley's favorite things. His notebook, black with dark purple edges, had been very hard to find. When he'd found notebooks filled with blank staff paper, he;d stocked up on several of them. He'd scribled through half of this one, filled with notes, scores, scales, and a few short composions he'd done. He turned to a new page and began to fill in notes. He sypathized a dark tune, sad and slow. Gradually the notes became closer together, and he made a note above the staff to pick up the tempo to 120 BPM, beats per minute. He then took the tune and picked it up to a higher octive, then began to change it little by little so it became a different melody all together.

When Westley finnished his rough draft, the teacher was still rambling on about something that he didn't care about. He relized the girls p*censored*ing notes had been caught, but one seemed to be writting a new one. The girl next to him had hardly moved and if anything, suck deeper into her seat. Westley frowned, debating if she dared to pester her or not. That's when he was reminded by the metal on his lower chest, molded into a cross. Westley was not religous in the slightest, but really liked the idea of having constant hope from some celestial being. He loved to be reminded that there was always hope. Maybe that's all this girl needed.

Wes flipped to another new page in his notebook and wrote on his, his hand writting a little blockier than another's might be. He'd still gotten way better over the years. He wrote,

"I'm Westley, almost 18, can drive, born in Germany, plays cello, has two little sisters. Friends?"

He quietly tore the page from his spiral and waited a moment. When nobody payed attention he folded the page and quickly, silently put the paper on the girl's desk. For the time, he could try to be nice. Just a little pick-me-up could change somebody's entire life, Westley knew, even if he wasn't sure if he'd gone about the action in a right way. But it was the thought that counted, wasn't it?

           Addison hasn't been listening through out the whole clas.s. But who, in the clas.s, really was? She found herself, staring out the window the whole time, her mind in a completly different world. She didn't know how she was supposed to react to such a thing, that happened last night. So she decided to keep quiet about it. Since, she's been quiet about it, ever since she was 13.

           Her heart pounded, as she felt the kick again, in her stomach. Remembering the feeling from last night, made her cringe right there in her seat. Blinking from where her mind trailed off, she found herself back at school. Not much better.. She thought.

           After her vision came back, to where she really was, she saw a piece of paper on her desk. Oh great. Another note, to make fun of me. Rolling her eyes, at the immaturity of some people she hesitated on opening it. Swallowing hard, as she read it, then cocked her head to the side. It wasn't what she expected. Then she huffed. The last thing she needed was a friend. And a male wouldn't make it any better. Not that she had an issue with men. She didn't have trust issues or anything. But she just didn't like men. Period.

           She took the paper, in both hands and stared at it. Her mind swarming through all the possibilities that could happen, if she let this guy in her life. Or heart. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she grabbed a pencil, and was about to write a careless 'No' but the sound of the bell echoed in her ears. She jumped, and watched as the kids happily got up, and walked out. Again, her mind was somewhere else so she stared for a moment, listening to the echoing in her ear. Over and over again. Then finally, pounced back into reality, and got up. Leaving the paper there, unanswered. And not giving the knew kid a glance, as she walked out of the clas.sroom.

Her heart was still beating as she walked through the crowded hallway, and the test was in her backpack. She could deffinatly admit, that she felt like a *censored* at that moment. Just because she was walking around with a pregnancy test. Casually, she walked to the rest room. Knowing that she was going to be late for next clas.s. But she figured, finding out that your pregnant with your dad's kid was more important at the moment.

(( I tried to write more, since I kind of felt bad, that you were writing so much. And I was like...Writing a tiny bit...:/ ))

((lol, don't worry about it. I drop off after a while, once I've reminded myself enough time how my character reacts to things. Besides, that was really good. I love reading/writting, which is exactly why I'm here. =3 ))

Westley let the bell ring, placing his notebooks carefully into the pocket of the cello case with another quick glace at his scedual. The girl he'd written the note to had left in a hurry, and Westley was willing to admit to himself that it hurt, but not to any body else. So, with a shrug, he shouldered his cello and started to Orchestra where he could be more than officially embarased of his so- called musical tallent. He would have rather kept to practicing at home, but his 'mother' had chosen most of their cl*censored*es before she even told them they would attend a public school. She may be nice most of the time, but after all these years Westley still wasn't used to his adopted family.

The boy trotted down the staircase with ease, nearly running into his sister. He paused, glaring at her. "Maru, what are you doing?"

The long- haired girl looked up her brother, glad that he was with him again. "Oh, God, the German teacher was so scary! He said that just because were were born there didn't mean that we knew anything about Germany and, and..."

Westley rolled his eyes, much used to Maru's fright of nearly every other thing. He knew that the best thing to do was simply to be direct with her. "Where's Ann?"

"Bathroom, but I better go to..." She trailed off, then unfolded the paper from a pocket and glanced at it. She hesitated, then, "English, I think. You should walk me there; Maru has math of some kind."

"Nope," Westley said, more than a little embarased by his sister's hopelessness. "I'm going to play my cello for a freaking grade."

"Oh," Maru sounded sad, but not quite so affraid anymore, now that she knew where her brother was going. So, the siblings parted. Westley cross the halls by memory, wondering exactly where he was. He past Ann once, but she hadn't noticed him as she was entering a room in the math wing. Westley shrugged it off and continued to roam. After several minutes he found the door with matching numbers to his scedual so he opened the door just as the bell started to ring. He received many stares as a welcome, and he breifly explained that he was late because he was new before eying the cl*censored*.

The room was filled mostly of girls with violins in the front, then fidles and other string instremements, not counting the whole three flutests cradeling their metal like babies. Westley noticed a base player and walked over, sitting next to him. He seemed clueless as Westley brought out his cello. After a moment the other students shrugged off and began to play a few scales to warm up, along with other peices of music Westly didn't care for. So, once he was ready, he played a few scales, too, and started to play a short lement before with drawing his notebook and playing what he had composed in his last cl*censored*, based off of the girl that had been sitting next to him. He hoped that she would be fine, that she was okay.

((Oh, man that was a horrid post. I'm sorry, that wasn't as good as I would normally hope for. T_T ))

((Oh stopp! ^^

OMG I LOVE READING/WRITING TOO! :O <3 ))

           Addison sighed of relief. If she did the test right, then she wasn't pregnant. The thought literally made her smile. Which was abnormal for her. It's been a long time, since she's actually smiled. The anxiety she had before, was completly washed away. Walking out of the stall, happily, she checked the time. Being about 10 to 15 minutes late, wasn't that big of a deal to her. So she didn't rush. She looked in the mirror, to check her eyes. She washed them off, so they weren't as blood shot from crying so hard, from the anxiety she had. Since no one was around, she quickly checked her back. There were scratches from her dad, and she didn't have enough energy to heal them last night. Taking her jacket off, she did a good check, and thanked God she had a jacket to cover it. Sighing, she closed her eyes, and pressed her hands on her sides. She could feel the scratches dissapearing, and the soreness she was having going with them. Grinning by how she felt now, she put the test in her backpack, not wanting anyone to see it in the trash can, and put the jacket back on and walked out of the bathroom. Feeling much better.

           After checking her schedule, Addison headed off to her next clas.s. History. Frowning, she walked to her locker really quick, to grab her books. She had a test today. And she didn't have time to study. Last night was to...Painful, to do any studying. Which wasn't very good, because she is horrible at History. When she got to the right clas.sroom, she quietly knocked on the door. The teacher always locked her out. Mr. Hohman hated her, because of her grades with History. Mr. Hohman did a slight wave to Addison, to show that she was going to miss the test, and stay out in the hallway. This happened many times. So Addison knew the routine. She crossed her arms, over her chest, and sat down on the tile floor. She's missed this clas.s before, for the same reason. Being late. But she never missed a test. Knowing that her grades were going to drop by missing it, made her anxieties come back. Dad's gunna be mad...Dad's gunna be mad... Was all she could think, as she pulled her knees up to her chest, and closed her eyes. Trying to control herself.

((That's how roleplaying like this got started, right? XD Anyway, I think I'm going to use Ann a little here. Beware: She's blunt. lol))

Ann tossed her hairover her shoulder, deciding that she was going to trim the ends and feather her hair again before she colored the rest of it blue... or maybe purple or something. The blue-ish streaks surrounding her face had such a contrast to the natural red that it was begining to annoy her. Many things annoyed Ann, and she was far more sociable than her twin Maru. So, when she disagreed and back talked the math teacher, she supposed it was only natural that she was sent to the hall. So far high school was a drag. Instead of waiting like a good girl, she decided to wander the halls aimlessly. She had brought her things, after all. She noticed a few people in the hall, but the ones that were out there were eaither talking to eachother or looked far to depressed for Ann to think about socilizing with them. Besides, she knew her brother would lecture her if she picked the one kid who would tell on her.

After a while Ann noticed a girl with bright purple hair. She cracked a smile, shifted the weight of her pack a little and sat down next to her. If they both colored their hair like this, they might have similar out looks. Then again, what if this was her natual color? Since Westley was turned, it had seemed the three Thomson siblings had gotten themselves into all kinda of trouble in their own back yard. She grinned at the prospect of another possible adventure.

"Hey," Ann approached the girl and sat next to her. "Kicked out of History?" She asked in a polite a tone as she could muster, letting her large brown eyes flicker to the door labels with numbers and 'HISTORY' is blocky white letters. She heard no noice from inside and lowered her voice a little. She let out a quiet yawn through her smile and flashed curious eyes at the girl, the same look she knew MAru could flash. She hated being one of two. "What are you? 16? 17?"

(( I should use Andrew soon. :/ I just have to figure out how. :O I'll think of something...*Thinks* ))

           Addison always hated when she finally started to have a good day, and then it all tumbles down to being a bad day instead. Realizing that she wasn't pregnant, pretty much made her day. She never smiled like that before, in a long time. And since it was on her mind, ever since she woke up, it was nice to have it literally lifted off her shoulders. And then, here comes stupid Mr. Hohman. Who deffinatly dislikes Addison. Now, she was missing a VERY important test in there. Which was going to make her fail the semester. She was most certainly positive, that her dad would get mad. And...And do what this time? Maybe kick her out? That actually wouldn't be that bad... She sighed at the thought. Where else would she go?

           When Addison saw a girl, that looked about her age, maybe a little younger sit next to her. She wished she was sitting in a chair, so she could slide down in it. To show that she wasn't really in the mood for 'small talk'. Or was she ever, really in the mood for anything that had to do with people? She shrugged, off the thought, and chose to just answer her question. Maybe this girl, will just walk away, after she realizes Addison isn't the type to talk.

"17." She answered quietly, not giving her a second glance. She wasn't a fan of eye contact, and never was. She found herself hugging her knees tighter, but she didn't know why. She guessed it was because, she was still thinking about the fact that her dad was going to do something else, after he realizes that Addison's failing History...Again. A shiver went down her spine, as she remembered what he did last time. Thank God my power is to heal... Or he'd be busted in no time.

((Sure, Ranni! =D RMail me either a bio or a link or something, please!))

Ann looked around nervously, deciding to take a risk. After a moment she looked back at the older girl. "I know this sounds really stupid," she said, a curious edge slipping into her voice. "But do you color your hair or can you use magic?"

Zima Ann was never one to beat around the bush and was never very good at small talk. From the stranger's reaction, Ann could tell that she didn't really want to talk, but now Ann had to know. She had to know if this was just another student. After all, Westley was a werewolf, who's to say that they just didn't bump into another so- called- mythical bring? They'd seen several before, and Ann herself was very curious in magic and its properties. Having not been gifted, or cursed, with them, Ann had gone on and settled for wiccantry and tarot cards.

((Sorry, short post before school.))

           Addison huffed, by her question. Magic? To die your hair? That's a good one. She guessed that this girl, just had a big imagination. Or...Did she know about her power to heal? Was this an innocent question, or a question to get HER busted? 

           "Um...I didn't use any magic to color my hair..." She tried to make her tone, seem 'calm. As in, she had nothing to hide, and was confused by the question. To change the subject just a bit, she added, "I was born with it. Completely genetic." Addison felt the urge to get up, and walk away. Feeling slightly uncomfortable. She tried to relax her shoulders, and kept telling herself that this student was just curious. So she then said, "How can you use magic to color your hair?" Then she added with a laugh, "Do you actually believe in magic ?" She smirked, just slightly. So that this stranger didn't get suspicious, about her being able to heal. 

Ann shrugged simply, as if totally unfased by the stranger's answer. "Well," she said, still keeping her voice on the low side. "If no body believes a little, the hope will die out. Without hope the people will fall into dispair and turn evil. I thought it was pretty simple." Ann adjusted, hoping she'd broken the ice. She closed her eyes, then flashed them brightly to the other. She cast a quick glace around, then continued the conversation. "Besides, my siblings and I seem to get into alot of trouble with magic users the last couple years. The best thing is that Mother doesn't even suspect him of being a wolf." She chuckled, and then just to clairify, "That is, my brother's a werewolf. I wouldn't be surprised if you'll meet him today, he's a little hard to miss."

Zima had gotten used to her brother's appearance, the pale skin, long black hair, scars and complete with cello. Maybe he wasn't the avrage wolf, but she secretly knew that his appearance sort of creaped people out. Ann knew, too, that she was probably making the other girl think Ann was a total nutcase. Ann didn't really care. She knew that her, like her twin, curiousity usually got the better of her. Though she hated it, Ann knew she could ramble, too. It seemed to make strangers move away, but she knew that her twin and brother would be at her side no matter what happened in the prison dubbed as 'school.'

           Addison frowned at Ann. "Who's your brother...?" She asked. Hoping it wasn't who she thought it was. Before she could answer, she chose she didn't even want to know. "You know what? Clas.s is about to start, You should go back." Rolling her eyes, she got up, before she would be tempted to admit her ability to heal. 

           Werwolf.. ? Frowning, she thought of ways, they could NOT be talking/thinking    about the same person. Of course, the guy she talked to did have long black hair. And he did have scars too. She looked at the girl/stranger is disbelief. We can NOT be talking about the same person...Right? "Is this 'werewolf brother' of yours, quiet? And yet, Is he the type of person to, I don't know..." She thought for a moment, and kept going, "Write a note to ask to be friends?" She said this with a edgy tone. It was quite odd to write a note randomly like that. 

Ann shrugged. She wasn't going to go back to cl*censored* yet, but as the stranger shifted, she decided that she'd pushed her lengths of the conversation to a stress point, shouldered her back pack and stood. "Well," Ann said, pondering the last question. Suddenly her voice turned a dark corner, as if suddenly serious. "Don't. Do not think we're releigious or anything, but he's very intune with what ever he beleives it right. When you're a werewolf, you need all the hope you can get."

With this, Ann turned and began to walk down the hall she'd come. She paused, turned back and said, a little lighter, "When you see him, don't tell him that Zima Ann told you!"

She turned again and began to bounce down the hall, looking into the cl*censored*rooms as she past. She rounded a new corner, at last begining to understand the halls of the twisting school. IT had been a freaking long time since Ann had been in a building this large, let alone have free range to. She wandered, only breifly wondering what the girl really was or how she hadn't pinpointed Westley yet, because, with that cello strapped on his person at all times, he was kinda hard to miss. Ann went up the stairs quietly through one hall to find more cl*censored*es, one of which she spotted her sister in. She past a few more kids at lockers, ditch cl*censored* like her, and a few with p*censored*es to go were ever. (ie, bathroom, counsling office...) Upon seeing this, Ann decided she'd have to forge some hall p*censored*es so she oculd have less chances of being caught from ditching. Where was she even going to go? She continued down the halls, up the coridors, down the other staircase and taking random turns as she looked for somebody else to talk to. She made a mental note not to come off as blunt this time.

           Addison frowned as the bell rang. Usually, what happens is, she gets locked out of clas.s, missing something important and sitting there bored to death, then hearing the dreaded words from any teacher - 'Miss Long, Can I talk to you after clas.s?' And the whole speech behind it. When she watched all the students leave the clas.s, she kept herself against the wall still in the hallway, so she wouldn't run into someone and fall. Which was what usually happened when she was in someone's way. When she estimated about half of the clas.s gone, she walked inside with a groan. Knowing already Mr. Hohman was going to want to talk to her about being late for clas.s. She memorized the routine.

           Only a couple other students were in the clas.s room, and they gave a glare to her as she walked in. She, not in a wierd way, never liked girls. Especiallly girls in middle school. They were catty, and vicious, and just plain mean. Same with high school. Especially the high school she was in. These girls literally did run the school. They were even favored by the head master. Addison gave the same death glare to the girls, like she did to anyone, and ignored them. Looking at Mr. Hohman, who was motioning her to a chair next to his desk. Frowning, she knew she couldn't run away now, so she sat down, and stared at his upset ex
pression. Yup...He hates me... What else is knew? Everyone didn't like her some how. They either got the wrong vibe from her, or judged her by her real vibe.

           Addison watched as Mr. Hohman talked, but she wasn't really listening. She always knew that she zoned out easily, but she just never felt like she really needed to tell anyone. There were way worse things in her life, other then zoning out once in a while. Everyone gets bored from the teachers voice, saying the same thing over and over again. 'I am very dissappointed in you, ' and 'I really care about your grades'. Usually, she just didn't care about anything he said, but the only words that really standed out, and stayed in her head were, 'I'm going to have to call your parents'. After that, she was no good. She slid in her seat, and stared out the window. Like she usually did. Realizing that if this stupid teacher called her dad, her life could literally be over. She gaved Mr. Hohman a scared ex
pression, and said, "Don't call my dad. I won't be late again. I promise.." She said, the last part quietly. What if that promise was broken? The thought made her cringe as she looked back at Mr. Hohman's 'You have got to be kidding me' stare. She got it all the time. He didn't even respond as he picked up the phone. Shaking, she said, "Please. Don't. I'll..I'll stay after school. I'll study. I promise I won't be late." Mr. Hohman ignored her, as he dialed her house number. He had a list of numbers in a his computer of all the students and teachers/faculty. Addison frowned, and before she could say anymore, Mr. Hohman was already having the conversation with the man that could take Addison's life away, with no real guilt. The thought, made her even more scared, as she slid farther in her seat.

Math: exactly what every student needs in their basic eduavtion! Westley was going to crumple his scedual and trow it against the wall. Math. Westley hated math. He loathed it an, even in one on one homeschooling, never understood half the caonsepts. Sure enough, just his luck, that Westley would get lost on the way there.

The cello player had decided that he hated the band teacher, and this put him in a foul mood. Play this exactly right, do the scale you've never seen before, ec tetera. So Westley left soon as he dared and, good for him, did not pay attention on where he was going. Somehow he ended up in the Social Studies wing. The 'student aids' had been of absoulutely no help since he'd walked in this place, now throughly convinced it was a prison. He felt the metal cross pound against his skin as he walked with furious stepps, but he ignored it. He, Westley Alexander Thomson, hated school, cl*censored*es and all the big (insert swear of choise here) that came with the terratory. Further education? Bah! It was tourture!

Upon asking countless people where the Hell his clas/s was with no success he decided he would go into the next room with an open door and demand somebody tell him how to get to his stupid freaking math! His hands white and clenched to reveal their array of narrow scars, he kept on by his oposite shoulder, tight on his cello strap. (There was no way Westley was leaving his prized possesion with that creep of a teacher.) The other was at his side, holding the peice of paper in his hand, a crumbled white peice that was his scedual. Westley had decided that one, he hated school as a whole; two, the band 'teacher' was an egotistical hypocritical jerk; three, the vast majority of people sucked; four, dispite Westley's 'condition,' he was the most sane person in the world; five, it didn't matter who it was, Westley decided he didn't like the math teachers either, simply for forcinf innocents into a cl*censored* to leard algebraic systems and blasted forumulas!

Following through with his plan, he turned a sharp corner into an open door labeled 'HISTORY.' The teacher was just hanging up the phone, a student as his dast. Westley turned a blind eye to both, infurriated that people existed and went about in normal lives. He slammed the blasted scedual onto the teacher's desk and said firmly, pronousiating each word with persision, "Tell. Me. Where. To. Go. Now."

~

Zilla Maru, though having shared similar qualities, besides looks, with her twin was very different from Zima Ann. No, while her sister liked to talk to strangers, sociallize and felt very cool in various situations, Maru would often be sitting by the window kicking her feet and humming a little tune lightly to herself. While her twin jammed on air guitar, Maru read a book. The fact was that there were way more differances between the two than similarities, including the fact that Maru felt very lost without her older brother standing in front of her. It was weird, and MAru decided she didn't like it.

Ann was no where to be seen, either, and MAru would have not been surprised in the slightest if her twin was already ditching cl*censored*es to talk to some upper- cl*censored*man. And geuss who would have to cover her sorry butt when they got home? Yep. She'd probably get more of a lecture, too, now that she began to ponder all the different ways Westley could react when he discovered the information. Westley, considering his condition, could get really scarry really fast when he was in a bad mood. This included getting in a serious brawl with a magic user to getting a wrong answer on a math problem.

Maru cracked a smile at the thought. Give Westley a graph and he'd spend four hours working and punching numbers before he threw all his work across the room, usually followed by a few swears. That's when MAru shivered. Westley was in the same school she was. MAth was a required course for all years, wasn't it? That would mean Westley would have it either in the next two cl*censored*es or any given time tomarrow. (Ann was never good at math, either. It was a trait the other Thomson siblings shared.) The idea of her brother having a freak out in a clas/s, especially after being so calm about most things, made her loose her train of thought and she acsidently bumped lightly into a p*censored*ing boy or two.

(( Gosh...How old are you? I'm guessing your atleast in high school, for writing so much. !!!!

I can't remember if i did this already soo.....-----> *Pokes siggy, about an amazing vacation!*

OMG, Andrew is going to be a fail at first. Like a tiny small paragraph at first... Just letting you know again ^^ I'm the worst at first posts. ))

             Addison shook. As they talked, she could hear everyword. Ever once in a while, she'd say repeatedly, "I'll try harder. I promise! Please just stop!" Mr. Hohman didn't understand what her father could do. She forced any tears that were about to come out of her eyes, to stay in. Until she was alone. She could start to hear her dad's angry voice through the phone, and her face flushed. Pale white. "Oh gosh.." Was all she could mutter, with a sigh. Knowing how bad things were going to hurt tonight.

Mr. Hohman put the phone down, and was about to say something to Addison, when he noticed a infuriated boy glaring at him. Hearing his 'request' for knowing where to go, he responded, "Excuse me. Hasn't anyone taught you manners? I'm talking to Addison at the moment." He did a small shooing away signal with his hand, and looked back at Addison. "Your dad would like you home early. Get your things, and tell your next teachers that you will be absent. Then wait at the offi-" Addison started to shake, and quickly intterupted him, and jumped up. "What? I can't go home!" She stared from Mr. Hohman, to the boy she saw before. Mr. Hohman got up with her, and said, "Sorry. Don't be late for cla.ss anymore, and maybe he'll not punish you as much. " Addison huffed. "You have no idea.." Frowning, she stayed there for a moment, giving a sad look while staring off. Imagining what may be, her last night. What it was going to be like... She blinked as she saw Mr. Hohman waving in her face, "Addison please go." Addison frowned, and thought she could procrasinate a bit. "I'll show you.." She said, quietly. With a shaky voice, to the boy she met before. Westley. Mr. Hohman did a slight frown, realizing she was trying to get out of leaving school. Weird...Usually people WANT to leave... He thought, as he motioned both of them out of the room. Since the next clas.s was about to start.

((Yeah, congrats on the vacation! And I'm in the 10th grade this year, just started. Thanks!))

Westley, at her mention, turned to look at Addison. He offered her a warm smile and a nodd, but then turned back to the teacher, his face immediately becoming infurriated again. "Oi!" He called to his face. As Westley straitened to his full height he relized he was taller than the teacher. "You never answered me, you old coot! Guten Tag to you, too!" With this, Westley snatched his scedual up in his grip again, let out a demonic snarl, and turned sharply away from him. "Auf Wiedersehen!"

Westley walked out of the room, murmering a low, "Let's get out of here," as he walked by Addison. After all, who in their right mind would want to be stuck with this guy? From what he'd seen of the 'teacher' he just seemed like a big jerk with one, no sympathy and two, not the slightest understanding or rememberance of what freakish H-E-Douple Hokey Sticks it was to be a teenager. That was, a normal teenager and not one that had painful transformations from a wolf to a human, back and forth all night when the moon was full. And the only thing that could make even that worse? Homework. Lots and lots of math homework.

"So what's your quarrel with him?" Westley asked Addison after the pair were out of the room. He forced himself to take deep breaths and was only slightly calming down, though German swears were echoing his mind. His blood was still hot, his fists still clenched to near ghostly white, though he'd replaced his scedual and one hand in their corrosponding pocket.

           Addison stayed silent for a while, while they walked. Ignoring his question. Mostly because she was still very deep in thought, with her head down staring at the floor. She found herself always doing that. People could ask or do anything to her, and she'd be to busy staring off. Secretly, she went to the doctors once. They said that she 'hurt her head', she half lied and said she 'fell down the stairs'. She did fall down, but it was more of a push from her dad, when he was mad at someone who was on the phone with him. Ever since then, the doctors say, she had this head problem. But it wasn't deadly. Spacing out was normal. So she secretly takes pills to keep herself on track, but sometimes she forgets. Like today.

           When she found the right math room, she mumbled quietly. "Just got late for clas.s..." Since they're 'walk' was done, she walked away, briskly, before he could reply. When they were in pretty far of a distance, but still pretty close too, she started walking slower. Taking out her schedule and reading it. Murmuring to herself, her last clas.ses till lunch.

(( BUMP

Hey...

Can we do this RP through Rmail?

I keep loosing threads, so I am asking everyone this. -__-))