Title:: It's Always the Quiet Ones (Alexis: Josh)
Overall Warnings:: Contains slash (gay boys), incest between cousins, cursing, comments on not so wholesome topics and a school shooting

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I moved here a few months back, 5 or 6, maybe. Hated the place from the very beginning. I couldn't breathe; there was always someone watching my every move. Even my mom started getting screwed up about things, since we're in a little place where everyone knows everyone, and people seem so utterly perfect. All the kids are raised the same way, so they all act the same, even if they don't want to. For some reason, there aren't many people who haven't lived here all their lives. Probably because they blew their brains out from the lack of originality in this stink hole. Mom was going nuts at me the first day of school.

"What do you think you're wearing?"

"What I wore when we didn't live in this shit pile."

"Don't use that kind of language."

I knew it'd get worse, of course. Mom was always the one who wanted to fit in, despite the fact that there was no way we could fit in. Daughter of the owner of a gigantic computer company, who got pregnant at 17, and has no clue who the real father is, moves into town on a whim. Yeah, sounds really normal to me. Especially since we have dad, who's not really my dad, but my uncle, sitting around all day drinking beer. Mom tells me to call him dad. Maybe she's lying about not knowing the father.

I got to school and was promptly stared at by the entire student body. It was weird, you know? The first time, anyway. I had gotten a glance here and there back at my old school, but not like this. This was, literally, the whole entire school. I heard most sounds die away, except for a few whispers, and then gave them all a kind gesture with my middle finger and went on my way to find some other people who I might fit in with. I found out there weren't any. And no one was willing to sit with a kid who jingled because of half a dozen chains, had pants with bottoms that swallowed anything in a 6 inch radius, and wore only black. Oh, and not to mention my spiked pink hair. I don't think that helped me. I almost felt lonely, but then I noticed that I wouldn't want anyone to like me here anyway. They're all so shallow, and it made me a bit sick, but I still continued to watch them. I guess I found it interesting, in a morbid way.

I learned really fast that I'd need to learn how to fight, too. Once again, shifting back, I didn't need to fight in my other school. It was pretty regulated, and I had so many friends that if anyone so much as stepped on my shoelace we'd all dive-bomb the kid and his eyes would be swollen shut for a few weeks. Here I would be on my own, and after being shoved about a bit, I also learned that big words wouldn't do the fighting for me. I ended up being called a 'queer Mexican' for using words with more than 3 syllables (I am in no way Hispanic, mind you), and in retaliation the next day I wore tall striped rainbow socks and a shirt with a printed out Mexican flag taped to it with electrical tape. They beat my ass.

After that was when I first met Josh, I think; a couple of weeks into school. I was idly playing with the blood pouring from my nose, licking the blood off my lips, and examining the slow formation of my bruises. It had been raining, and I saw a bit of rain trickling from a low roof on the building. I moved into the stream, and immediately out. Charming how the sun heats up water. It was scorching. I heard a barking laugh behind me.

"Piss off!"

He didn't look disturbed, or homicidal, or anything beyond biggest prick in the universe. He had his buzzed hair (not too short, though), a bleached blonde. His eyes were some weird grayish yellow color. I pulled my umbrella out of my bag, you know, for defense or something. I looked like an idiot, so he laughed again. That laugh always made me want to vomit.

"You're such a freak."

"What's it to you?"

He scowled slightly. Hah. He probably wanted me to start crying. I brandished my scary umbrella at him as he moved closer. Maybe I could beat him off me, unlike the 5 guys who had just 'formally introduced' themselves to me with their fists and feet. But his expression was rapidly changing, and I don't mean from one to another. I mean it was just changing, and changing. Mad, scared, upset, happy, bored. My nose twitched. It does that when I get around people who vibe insanity at me. Like mom.

"What do you think of it, here?"

A rather civilized, but stupid, question.

"I just love it. I love it so much I thought I'd redecorate. You know, stain your beautiful cement red, possibly some of the carpet. . ."

"Don't get smart with me." Damn, I remember how his eyes were practically glowing at me. And he was calling me a freak. I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I just kinda waved my umbrella at him. He ripped it from my hands, threw it, and shoved me up against a wall so my feet were dangling before my brain could even process the movement.

"Do you hate them? Hate them all?" He whispered, quietly, though it was more of a hiss in my ear. I twisted.

"Yeah, dumbass. Yeah, I do."

He laughed again, ". . . that's good."

And then he dropped me, and walked away. Like we had been having tea or something. My nose twitched again.

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