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He's The Devil's Son. I'm The Angel's Daughter.

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For nearly seventeen years my life had remained practically unchanged, average. I lived in a normal, two story house in a nice neighborhood, had a part-time job, my own car, my grades were average. Everything was as normal and boring as it ever was. And I really I no reason to think today would be any different. 

My alarm blared in my ear, playing some song I knew but forgot the name to. Reaching over, I flipped it off and rolled over, staring up at the plain, white ceiling of my bedroom. Of course, a few flies had decided to make it their resting spot for a few minutes, typical of any other fall day. 

Sitting up, I swung my feet over the side of the bed and flung the covers off me as I sat up. Strands of blonde hair feel into my tired face, which I simply ignored as I made my way over to the bathroom connected to my room. 

After taking a quick shower, I pulled my hair up into a pony tail, like every other day, and slipped on my clothes. They were nothing fantastic or unique, just a simple pair of faded blue jeans that had rips in the knees and a plain, navy blue t-shirt. 

Once I had put my shoes on, a pair of white and sliver tennis shoes, I headed downstairs. It was nothing new to find the house deserted, my parents always went to work sometime between six and seven. Rarely were they ever home when I woke up in the mornings, at least when it came to school days anyways. 

Grabbing a soda from the fridge, I popped it open and took a drink, walking over to the sliding glass door and peering outside. A table sat on the concrete patio, shielded from the sun by a canopy that connected to the house, plants decorated the edges of the patio, adding bright color to the once dull area. In just over twenty-four hours, the whole place would be decorated with who-knows-what for one very simple reason. 

Tomorrow was my seventeenth birthday. 

Like every year before it, my parents would go all out in decorating the yard. I could only guess what their theme would be this year. Last year it was the Amazon, the year before it was the ocean and before that the sky. Somehow, they managed to find a theme they hadn't used yet. Unlike most, they could actually pull it off. Everything would look perfect, like some professional designer had done it. 

Turning my attention away from the soon-to-be-transformed yard, I placed the drink on the counter and headed upstairs to grab my book bag. Yet another day of school loomed ahead of me, which would no doubt be the same as any other. A new drama would be made, people would gossip about it for the next eight hours, a possible fight would occur. It was all a boring day in my book. 

The only thing I looked forward to was the fact that it was Friday. Which meant we'd be off the next three days since Monday was a teacher workday. Three days of no homework, no teachers blabbing about things no one cared about, no girls acting like the world revolved around them. Three days of paradise. Well, as close as you could get to it around here. 

Locking the door behind me, I walked over and opened the car door, tossing my bag on the passenger's seat. Sitting down in the driver's seat, I pushed in on the clutch and started the car, rolling down the windows as soon as I could. Sometimes, I swore fall was hotter than summer around here, with days reaching well into the nineties, even higher at times. 

The drive to school took about twenty minutes, all of which was full of idiot drivers. It never failed for someone to almost hit me at least once, pull out in front of me or tailgate me. The first two I could easily deal with, but tailgating really got under my skin. More than once I had preformed brake checks, and the guys quickly either dropped back or passed. 

Pulling into the school, I parked in the same spot as always. It was a spot at the end of the lot, with the grass on one side and empty spaces on the other. Parking in such a place kept me from having to worry about the morons that drove to school, the ones that didn't care about anyone's car but their own. 

The first bell sounded on my way to homeroom, signaling I only have five minutes to make it there. Three minutes later I was sitting at my desk in the back corner of the room staring out the window. By the time the second bell rang, nearly everyone was in their seats. Only two were left empty: Damian's and Alexander's, the two who had decided to get kicked out of school for the next week by fighting. 

No sooner had the teacher, Mrs. Hapkins, started talking, there was a knock on the door as it slowly opened. Every head in the room turned to look at the guy that walked in, his black hair covering his left eye, which was a very bright, emerald green. I had seen him around the school before, but had never paid much attention. Mrs. Hapkins looked over at him as he walked over to her, handing her a piece of paper. The guy stood at least eight inches over five foot four Mrs. Hapkins, who told him to have a seat as she walked over to her desk.

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