Chapter 1: Run This Town

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A/N: Hey everyone! So I actually posted the first six chapters of this on another site, but I'm finishing it here, although I did edit it a bit and change one or two names for this site.

For those of you who're reading If We Ever Meet Again, this story is more cliche and unrealistic, but give it a try! You might like it. (And if you're not reading IWEMA, now would be a great time to start. That story is very near and dear to my heart)



Feel it comin' in the air, hear the screams from everywhere

I'm addicted to the thrill, it's a dangerous love affair

Can't be scared when it goes down, got a problem tell me now

Only thing that's on my mind, is who gon' run this town tonight?

Is who gon' run this tonight?

We gon' run this town

~"Run This Town" Jay-Z & Rihanna

"Sweetie, are you feeling ok?"

I poked at the pile of scrambled eggs on my plate, wondering if I could possibly fake being sick to delay my first day of senior year a little longer.

Maybe I could claim food poisoning from the takeout I ordered yesterday?

…No. My mom would never buy it, and even if she did, I really didn't want my favorite Chinese restaurant to be slapped with a lawsuit. What about the flu? Mono? Strep throat? Sudden amnesia? My mind raced through a million fake excuses as to why I can't go to school today, but that darned maternal instinct would undoubtedly see through all of them in a minute, and I'd just earn myself a nice grounding instead.

"…Maya? Maya!"

I started, my fork clattering against the plate. "What did you say?" I asked distractedly, trying to get my bearings after being lost in my thoughts for the past ten minutes.

"Are you feeling ok?" my mom repeated. "You've barely touched your food."

I looked down and realized she was right. The scrambled eggs and bacon—usually my favorite breakfast—was far from gone.

I took a deep breath, about to lie and say that no, I didn't really feel ok and that I'm not up for classes today, but my darned conscience had to kick in at that moment. "I'm fine," I said, pasting a smile on my face. "I'm just not really hungry."

My mom arched her eyebrows and took a sip of her coffee. She's like Lorelai from Gilmore Girls—a total coffee addict. She had at least eight cups a day, despite my insistence so much caffeine is not good for her health. You would think she'd know that, since she works in the health industry and all. "Nervous?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." That's one way to put it, but 'nervous' isn't an adequate description for the Texas-sized pit of anxiety in my stomach.

"You'll be fine, sweetie," Mom said soothingly. "You were fine last year. Straight A's! And you're not even new anymore."

That's precisely the problem. I'm not new, which means after a year at Valesca Academy, I know how it works. Trust me, it's not pretty. But more on that later.

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