Megan is lost. Not literally, but it's definitely pretty damn close. Her mom is an alcoholic, and has been as long as Megan remember. Same for her dad being gone. She doesn't often show up at school, and when she does, it's not like she's done her homework. The teachers just stopped bothering her about it after a while. She only has one friend, Juliana, who is just everything a friend should be, but that's it. Boys is not really one of her great interests either. And then again. When the new hot twins both seem to have the hots for her, why not give it a try. Oh, yeah, because Megan doesn't give a fuck. Yet, there definitely is something strange about Drake and Derek... ___ These are ONLY drafts, no editing has been done yet!


3. Chapter One

Light. It has a habit of disturbing people in their sleep. Especially me, it appears. That white, non-substantial invention bothers me more than anything. Even more than my  alcoholic mother.
A hard knock hit my bedroom door, accompanied by a voice like a train taking of speed.
“Megan, get your fucking ass out of bed, you're late for school!”
I ignored the earsplitting sound, and buried my face in my pillow once again. I really do hate light in the morning.
I faintly heard my mom burst through the door, probably drunk, or maybe even high on something.
“Didn't you hear me? You're a late!” A blurry Brooklyn accent followed her everywhere she went. If the blur was from the alcohol or just the way she spoke, I may never know.
“Purposely! I'm skipping school today,” I snarled, my voice muffled by the pillow.
To that, she just growled, and left the room. Pretending to care was obviously too much of an effort in the being-a-mother department.
But at this point I was too annoyed to go back to sleep, and after trying for a good wasted hour, I had to stand up.
The dizziness from rising too fast overwhelmed me, and I had to grab my dresser for support. Seriously, whatever made me so tired and dizzy all the time, had to stop eventually, or I would definitely go mad.
The flowing feeling subsided, and slowly I let go, taking an unsteady step towards my closet. The world started spinning again, and I desperately grabbed for the dressers support. My hand skipped it by an inch, and instead of holding myself up, I fell to the floor, my back against the bed.
“Damn it,” I whispered. I felt so weak, when this happened, and that brought me to the verge of crying. Speaking of weak.
My eyes found the floor, and was caught by a bottle of cheap whiskey, lying half under my bed. I'd bought it a couple of weeks ago in a moment of weakness, but hadn't touched it since. And I didn't intend to.
Thinking of finding the bottom of that flask, seemed tempting, but just hearing my mother yell at the TV from the living room, made me think twice.
With an imminent effort, I lifted myself to a standing position, and kicked the bottle far under the bed.
Alcohol, Devil's first cousin, for some reason has no effect on me. Maybe because my mom sucked it in like a drain when she was pregnant, and that has build me a tolerance for it, higher than I can possibly break.
I couldn't find the energy and enthusiasm to ignore my dizziness, and move to the closet, so instead I climbed back into bed, and started surfing the internet on my nearly destroyed Samsung Galaxy S. The screen was cracked at about seven places, and the letters on it almost invisible, because the screen-light had broke. But it was still a phone, as long as it could charge, call and text. When those functions finally failed, my mom told me in one of her rare sober moments, that I could get a new one.
Okay, maybe sober is an overestimation, but at least she wasn't brain-dead drunk.
In some instants, I even consider wrecking it on purpose, just to retrieve a new one that works.
Suddenly, the device began vibrating with such extreme aggression, it caused me to jump up a foot. Of course I landed softly, still sitting upright in bed.
All that had really happened with my phone was receiving a text, but when I was occupied elsewhere, the over-enthusiastic shake felt like a bomb blowing.
Still pissed of by my stupid, almost-broken phone, I checked the text. I hadn't gotten a text as this time of the day in ages, so it came as a surprise, that someone actually cared.
> Where r u? There's something u gotta c! <
I checked the ID, already knowing who it was. The only person who actually had my number in her contacts. Juliana, it read, the name neatly printed on the cracked screen.
If not for the fact that Juliana never made something bigger than it was, I'd have ignored the text. Seeing anything wasn't a part of my plans today. I wasn't in the mood. But something about the message and it persistent manner, lured me out of bed. Still dizzy, but more awake, I stumbled to my closet to find something decent to wear. I have found that decent school-uniform doesn't include pajamas. Neither does it include having hair like a bird's nest.
I took a short look in the mirror, and mentally corrected myself. A very messy bird's nest. My red curls stood out in every possible direction, making me look the slightest bit like Medusa. Snake-heads at the end, and it would be just right.
Digging a mix of clean and dirty clothes out of my bottom drawer, I found something  I might wear in public. A pair of dark-gray skinny jeans, that made me look less... Well, fat. Not that I was fat, that's not what I mean. More like... Normal. But the thing is... when everyone else seems to suffer from anorexia, bulimia or both, normal stands out. And with a drunkie as a mother, and a sky-high absence percent, I already stuck out enough, thank you.
I ended up wearing the jeans with a blood-red, half transparent slim-fit tank top, and  a black leather jacket. Red always complimented my hair, and made my eyes look very blue, so half of my closet was technically dressed in different shades of the amour color.
I grabbed my purse, which was already packed, because I had never ever heard of the words 'do your homework', and in the process I almost forgot to put shoes on. Halfway out of my room, I spun around, so fast the dizziness returned. Damn it!
The cement wall felt cold against my skin, when I leaned in for its support, and reminded me of keeping my head clear. No rush, you're running late no matter what. The clock just stroke ten, a moment ago.
Slowly, I took a step towards my room, then another, and though the world was still spinning just the slightest bit, I got there in the end. Just inside my door, a pair of worn non-brand sneakers rested, and I grabbed them, and dumped to the floor in one movement. Getting down isn't the hard part. It's the whole concept of getting back up, that makes me so exhausted.
My black sneakers was so old I almost didn't have to tie open the lace. Just press my feet down, and wait until it fit right.
Done witht the whole shoe-project, I raised from the floor, and took a firm grip on the door frame. Remarkably, the overwhelming feeling of dropping back down, did not return. My feet felt grounded, and even though it was a fragile balance I was keeping, it worked. With no other unexpected challenges, I got out of the door. I didn't even bother to say goodbye to my mom.


I want a car. I want a car. I repeated that same motto in my head, the whole bus ride through. I had presented that proposal to my mom quite some times, but obviously with no result. You don’t have a driver’s license, she kept saying. Well, that why you were going to buy me one, I wanted to reply, but of course I had never done it. I wasn’t stupid enough to think it was going to be anything else, than another paragraph of life we couldn’t agree on. Like there wasn’t enough already.
The brakes shrieked, when the bus took a sudden stop in front of the school. Apparently, the driver hadn’t been paying attention to the fact that I’d pressed the stop-button about a mile before.
I jumped down the steps and out the open door, just a second before the vehicle started moving again. Someone is impatient today. I sent some pity to the driver, who would have to sit in that same seat all day, but rethinking it, took it back. He could just handle it the same way I handled school. By not doing it. Nobody forced the man to do anything.
>I’m here, what’s up? <
Call me old school, but the slang Juliana used wasn’t my thing. I guess I’d just agreed with myself to keep my spelling clean, when I didn’t go to school. Something about getting a job I think. Already at the age of ten, I decided I was not going to end up like my mother. And that sure as hell wasn’t going to change now.
Giving the big brick building the killer look, I started pacing slowly up the path leading to the double doors that was the main entrance. Normally I would have preferred one of the smaller ones, but in the middle of a class, nobody used this anyway. People always make me a bit nauseous. Maybe because they always seem to know all the things that bothers me in life. And always seem to want me to swell in it.
Normally Jules would have answered my text now, unless she was in math. They way Mr. Parker handled texting in class was detention for the whole week, and confiscating your cellphone for the same amount of time. Nobody except freshmen ever dared to use their phones in math class.
I stalked through the empty hallways, knowing the security cameras had already told the principal I was here. Also knowing that he didn't care enough to call on me.
It would be the same old conversation. The whole; you're late again; thing, and then he would be forced to ask questions about my home situation he already knew the answers to. At some point along freshmen year, we just came to an unspoken agreement of him leaving me alone, and me not making trouble. After all, the worst thing I'd ever done, was ditching school, and not doing my homework.
Now my choice stood between going to the class I would be late to, or wait for Jules to come out of Mr. Parker’s torture chamber. What was my schedule again? Was it biology or English? I wasn't sure. How could anyone expect me to remember a class I never attended?
In one annoyed movement, I pulled my purse in front of me, and opened the zipper that always stuck. I would probably break it in the nearest future anyway, so ripping it up seemed like the best option. And that’s when I felt it. A light touch at the back of my neck, tiny needles tickling just below the base of my hair. And here I thought I was alone in the hallway.
Even though I was very aware that I was being watched, I didn’t turn around. I just kept searching my purse, more focused on the strange feeling the unfamiliar pair of eyes brought. Somehow I could tell it wasn’t someone I knew. Maybe it was because the look didn’t feel judging, or maybe it was because this someone hadn’t come up with a smart comment yet. Either way, it just felt different.
Behind me, a boy cleared his throat. I got the hint, and turned around to face whoever found staring at my back so interesting.
Suddenly the fluorescent-lights seemed sharper, and the whole room gleamed with something unnatural. The white walls was so light they almost turned purple, the cabins glowing blue, like they were highlighted from the inside. And in the middle of all that, the real glowing, sparkling thing stood. His hair was blond, the shade of a cornfield in August, and his eyes so dazzlingly blue the color made even the Caribbean ocean fade in comparison. His face was angular, and then… Not. And I won’t even get started on his body. All I can really say about it to make is justice, is that his face was the ugly part. Words can only describe as much, it appears.
“Hello… I was about to ask you for directions, but you look just as lost as I am,” the guy said, smiling a shy smile. I had been right about the unfamiliarity. I had never seen this guy here, or anywhere, that is something I would have remembered.
For a minute, I just waited for him to say something. Then I realized the terrifying fact that he had, and now was expecting me to answer. God, those eyes made me forget my own name.
Seriously Megan? You so don’t care about a new student showing up, thinking he is something. How did I even know he was new? I hadn’t been to school since some time two weeks back, and he could have come around any time from there, to now. Then I remembered: He was saying something about being lost.
“I… I know my way around here,” I muttered, almost crossing the line to stammering. Those eyes, I could swim so far away in them, I would never have to deal with my alcohol – and drug – abusive mother. Sounded good in my exhausted ears.
“Really? I apologize if I am offending you in any way, but you do seem a bit… Confused.” His smile was genuine, not in any way mocking or offending.
Not that I cared about his smile in particular, but any honest smile was worth something for people like me. Outcasts. Judged for their parents mistakes, not their own. Genuine smiles were rare.
“That’s okay. What are you looking for?” I managed to get out in a somewhat civilized tone. For a short moment he seemed amused, but I couldn’t figure out why. Was something stuck to my face? Did he know about my mother after all?
"My brother and I agreed to meet at the cafeteria after this class, but the situation is... I have no idea where that would be. Can you help me?" he asked. The question was so easy and innocent, I could barely keep from bursting into laugh. A soft chuckle escaped me, to my painful embarrassment.
He looked at me with a wondering expression, and I couldn't help feeling a little good that it was now him wondering whether something was stuck to his face. Except those gorgeous eyes, of course.
“I… I’m so sorry, it’s just… just about every hallway on the school’s property leads there. You should have found it by now,” I laughed. I saw the smile on his face and the way it brightened up everything around him made the whole scene even more beautiful. The surroundings were glowing, but it all seemed black compared to him. Like a thick layer of smoke covered everything.
“Well… As embarrassing as it is, I have not yet seen the sight of it,” he admitted with a sly smile, and then nodded down the hall. “That way?”
I kept putting a remark on the way he put the words. Every time he spoke, his sentences reminded me of Juliana’s grandma. I understood it and all, but it still sounded weird on the lips of a teenager.
“To your information, my name is Drake,” he presented himself, and offered me his hand. I hadn’t seen him moving, but suddenly he stood right in front of me.
“I’m Megan,” I answered, swiping away the formality. All the big fine words was too annoying to focus on, and mumbling random stuff just seemed easier.
When we walked to the cafeteria I noticed something strange about him. He was just the slightest bit superior. His chin was a bit too high, and his pace was a little in front of mine. Like I was less than him. Maybe he really knew about me mother.
In a sudden realization, my stupidity overwhelmed me. Everybody knew about my mother, no exceptions.
"So--- Why are you not in class?" he opened the conversation. He kept confusing me. If he knew about my family history, he would also know that I barely ever attended class. But if he had been here more than a day, he would know. What were the chances that he started today?
"I..." I didn't get to say more, before the sound of my over-exited vibrating for interrupted. "Sorry, just a sec."
I pulled the phone from my pocket, and as I figured, the text was from Juliana.
> 2 fucking haw-t's started 2-day!<
Okay, apparently the chances that he started today was pretty good

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