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Chapter One

UNEDITED

I guess some people would disagree with Dad's parenting tactics.

I mean, not many people think a sixteen year old girl should have nine piercings and purple hair.

But Dad calls it expression.

Hell, he let me start dying my hair at eight. Blue, then green, then pink, then blue again, then purple. And it's been purple since. I got my ears pierced at one, then a second hole at four, a third at nine, and the top at twelve. I got my nose pierced at fourteen, a birthday present.

Let's not even talk about my brothers.

We're a rainbow, none of us with our natural blonde. They have all sorts of piercings- Michael even has snake bites. Again, most people would think we would turn into trashy, slutty, party animals.

The last applies to all of us, and the second to my brothers.

But it doesn't mean we're not good kids. Nash is even in Harvard, with his pink hair and dozen-and-a-half piercings. They're all on honor roll, and Lennon's on the football team with a scholarship to Brown waiting for him.

Me? Well, I'm not a school person.

But, honestly, I'm the backsheep, persay. The only girl in a house of eight and the youngest, I sort of get away with these things.

I have a handful of driving tickets from when I stole dad's care at twelve, I have some anger problems, as the shrink puts it, and I've been busted at a few parties.

Really, it's because guy behaviour isn't accepted in a girl, despite the fact that she's never had female influence.

Even if I had known Mom, she was an overly tattooed biker chick. Seriously, she would have been the worst influence. At least dad's a lawyer.

I think my issues are why I'm in stupid people geography.

I mean, I'm not some super genuis, but I'm not stupid.

I just don't get along with Mr. Sharpio so he doesn't feel the need to pass me. And it's not like the rest of the class is stupid or anyhing. They're just freshmen, and I'm one of the only seniors in a freshman class. Well, not counting Monica and Jenda. Holly's a Junior, so it's not that bad.

But, I'm off to a good start this year. I've only called Mr. Shaprio Mr. Sharpie twice, and it's December. And I only have a B-.

        So I sit in the back of the class, in the corner by the window, surrounded by my friends. Monica is next to me, Jenda in front of me, and Holly next to her.

Nobody to fight with.

As always, Mr. Shaprio is late. Especially late today; thirty-five minutes and counting. Of course, he's always late on the surprise project day.