Semidio High, Room 29

The golden-eyed girl walked into the classroom, again fidgeting with her shirt. She felt someone's eyes on her and looked to her left to see the bulky black-haired boy from yesterday, in the cemetery. She tore her gaze away and strolled to her desk, pulling out her notebook and starting to copy down what the teacher had written on the whiteboard. But she couldn't concentrate. She could only focus on what those girls back in the hallway had whispered, unknowing that she could hear them. "She should be dead," they whispered, "she should be dead." The girls had giggled and walked away, not knowing how heavily their words had impacted her world.

Meanwhile, in a classroom in the east wing of the high school, the black-haired boy was hunched over in his seat. I can hear you, he wanted to scream at his whispering classmates, who were whispering about him. His sister died, they said, he pushed her, which eventually resulted in her death. He's a murderer. He wants to kill us all. He should die. The boy could hear all of the words. He knew what they were talking about. And, true to their words, he wanted to die. It should've been him, not Bianca.

He was tired, so tired. The obsidian-eyed boy rested his head in his arms, wanting to rest. To sleep. To be transported away from this classroom with all of these gossiping people, these people who didn't know a single bit about him. He wanted to run from their lies, their rumors. He was tired, so very tired of living.

The green-eyed boy had come to school with a new bruise on his ribs. Another blow, delt by none other than his stepfather Gabe. Nobody knew about it, and that's how the boy wanted it to stay. Rumors would spread like wildfire, and that was the last thing he wanted. He was glad that there was no swim practice today-his friends would be sure to notice that bruise and inquire about it, definitely causing trouble. He winced as his ribs came in contact with the desk edge, and pulled away quickly. He leaned back in his seat to prevent such an event happening again, and noticed Mr. Brunner looking at him sternly. Gulping, he sat straight up again, and started to copy down the notes written on the board.

The electric blue-eyed girl was drowning. Drowning in a sea of rumors, rumors that had her as their topic. They were discussed everywhere, like there was no escape. She tried to swim, tried to float, but the rumors dragged her down and pulled her under, cutting off the precious oxygen her lungs needed to breathe. She couldn't breathe.

Suddenly, a hand tapped her shoulder. "Earth to Thalia," someone said. "Oh wait, you're not from Earth, are you?" That just started another round of snickers and whispers, another batch of rumors to add into the already overflowing box of them. And once again, she was drowning, drowning.

The Cherokee girl with the kaleidoscopic eyes frowned. Drew Tanaka, currently number one annoying girl at Semidio High-well, at least in her opinion-was chatting about her latest boyfriend and the infinite number of ways she could dump him for the next best thing.

"OMGs, Drew, you should totally break up with him via text! It's totally the latest trend!" One of her other "friends" gushed. A new round of giggling and pointing started.

"But what about Pipes over here? She needs someone to date. After all, the daughter of Tristan McLean can't stay single forever!" Lacy squealed, probably loud enough for the whole hallway to hear. The girl actually preferred Lacy over some of the other girls in her "posse," because Lacy was so nice, and yet because she was taught by the others, she would probably grow up to be a bully just like the others. The brown-haired girl sighed-she just couldn't find it in herself to be mean to other kids, to ignore their helpless pleas. She couldn't find it in herself to fit in with her "group," because they were really just bullies in disguise-bullies that were simply dressed prettily and wore makeup.

The blonde-haired boy glared at the bank loan in his hands. If only he could find the generous donor of all this money; he didn't want handouts. But the person who gave the money to him seemed so rich, and thoughts of his mother, at home with no job, got to him. He took a deep breath and was about to drive to the bank, but something made him pause and hesitate. What if it all was a test? What if the money given to him was part of something bigger, a devious plan? What if, just as quickly as he put the money in, it was taken out? He sighed and put his head into his hands-if only his stupid boss had paid him more last week, he could've had at least $50 to return to the bank. But thoughts like this wouldn't get him anywhere, so the boy stood up and left for home.

"Annabeth? Hello?" The grey-eyed girl's stepbrother Bobby waved his hands in front of her face, like he was trying to clean a window. "Annabeth! Play with us!!!!!" His twin, Matthew, whined, and she had to give in. After all, who could resist Matthew's puppy dog face?

They were playing with the boys' trucks when her stepmom Helen appeared in the doorway. "Annabeth! What are you doing playing with Matthew and Bobby? You know you have to wash the dishes, dust the vases, fold the clothes, do the laundry, and everything else! You think the laundry's gonna wash itself?" Helen scolded her, anger flashing in her eyes. The grey-eyed girl slowly stood up and went to complete the long list of chores Helen had so kindly prepared for her. She knew that if she ran away, like she had two years ago, Helen would only be furious that their "maid" was gone and send the police out to catch her, blaming a crime on her. Last time she tried, Helen got so mad that she broke one of her favorite vases trying to punch the blonde-haired girl, and blamed the destruction of the vase on her just as her dad got home. And that was when the grey-eyed girl lost the support of her only true family.