Chapter One

Ever since I was little, I knew I was different. Heck, everyone knew it. They had clues that proved their point as well. When I was a baby, my ears were pointed. No big deal, right? Lots of babies have pointed ears. But mine stayed pointed. Also, I sparkled in a certain light. And don’t forget my parents left me on a random doorstep when I was a baby. I’m not kidding. Whenever I tell that freaking story, everyone’s all, “Really? I thought that was a freakin’ myth!” No, it’s not a freakin’ myth! This is my freakin’ life! As a freak!!

Now, I was starting high school. I wasn’t excited. Why should I be?

“You’ll have fun!” my “mom” said. Her name’s Edna Rosenberg. She’s nice, I guess. I’ve lived with her ever since I was dumped on her and Mr. Rosenberg, who passed away a few years ago. Edna is this really short, kinda pudgy lady with puffy blue-ish hair. She always wears a dress. Today it was white with sunflowers printed all over it. Yesterday it was black with sunflowers. A list of her daily accessories included a huge straw hat with a sunflower on it, a yellow handbag with a sunflower on it, and a sunflower charm bracelet. I didn’t even know they made sunflower charm bracelets. Edna had dropped me off in her bright yellow Volkswagen beetle with…guess what? A bunch of sunflower decals on it. Edna is obsessed with sunflowers. No joke, every single piece of clothing she owns has sunflowers on it. Even her underwear. Don’t ask how I know. It’s just another abnormality about me and my dysfunctional life.

I stood in front of the doors in my brand new, black converse sneakers. I was wearing my favorite jacket, made of real, jet-black leather. My t-shirt was simple: black. My jeans were the only slightly colorful thing about me: they were dark blue. I brushed my shag hairstyle out of my face. The long, dark-brown-almost-black strands kept blocking my vision, but I wouldn’t get a new haircut for a million dollars.

I sighed and silently started slinking forward toward the throng of freshmen. There were a couple I recognized from school. I waved at them, glad to see somebody I knew. But as soon as they saw me, their eyes widened in fear and shock and backed away. My hand dropped to my side as I cursed. Why did I think it would be any different here?

I sat down on the gray stone wall and tried to blend in. It’s easy, really. Just slump a little, let your hair hang down over your eyes, growl every time someone comes near. Most people steer clear. So I was pretty surprised when a girl freakin’ sits down right freakin’ next to me! I was so surprised I looked up, which is my number one rule of things not to do when you’re trying not to be noticed. She had platinum-blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and was snapping cool-green-bubble gum. And she was wearing overalls. I’m not freakin’ kidding. And olive-green, mud-spattered boots. Overalls and boots. On the first day of High School. Was she trying to get stuffed into a locker?

“Whoa, big school, huh?” she asked me as she pulled her hair back with a scrunchie.

“Uh...sure,” was all I could say.

The girl started to braid her hair. “I’ve been homeschooled since I was seven because the kids would pick on me too much. I don’t know why. But it was fun, I guess. But then Momma said I had to get out and “socialize with my fellow peers.” Momma’s funny that way, always talking in big words. So this is the first time I’ve been to school since second grade. I have a bunch of questions. Like, do we still do coloring sheets? I don’t think so. By the way, my name’s Tonya. I’m 14. What’s your name?”

She said all this in about 5 seconds. Talk about a motor-mouth. My thoughts were:

1) Homeschooled--that’d explain the overalls.
2) Momma? Really?
3) Coloring sheets? Freakin’ wow.
4) Name?

“Oh, I’m, uh...Oliver. Oliver Rosenberg.”
“That’s a nice name. I like my name. Some people say it’s just the short form of Antonia, which means ‘daughter of Antony,’ and Antony is a Roman name, except I’m not Roman. But I found out that it really means Fairy Queen. Isn’t that cool? Hmm...Oliver, if I remember right, means Elf Army. That’s a really cool name, too. Whoops, there’s the bell. Shouldn’t we go in?”
Now I’m all like whaa? What’s this about fairies and elf armies and Romans? And then I’m being trampled by a mob of freshmen. Such a great way to start off the school year. Get driven up in the Sunflower-Mobile, get shunned by people you might know, then have the motormouth-farmer girl start blabbing on about fairies and elves and coloring sheets and freakin’ Romans! And then get stomped on by my peers. By the time I’ve stood up and dusted off, everyone’s gone...except Tonya the Fairy Queen.
I groan as she skips up and starts chattering about coloring sheets again.