Author: Cornerstreet Romance

Title: ManEating Orchids

Rating: R -

Takes Place: Alternate Reality.

Disclaimer: hack isn't mine but alyssa, the parents, teachers (with a few exceptions) and OCs all belong to me (aside from Shuyin, Tengaki, and the infamous Anissa, who belong to alwaysanissa on this very site).

Summary: City kids don't play with fire - they play with guns

Note: I'm changing inside, my mind is warping, society takes life to a new level and things aren't what they seemed, i can fuck up all I want, it'll fuck up later anyways.

IOW

highschool
kicks
ass
mother fuckers

&&

"Implications From A Bitch"
(c) me.

yes, I have the
worst
mouth you'll
(ever)
see & hear
(now you've been
warned)
if you ever
piss
me
off
(you won't be
happy)
and you'll
wonder
why you were
(ever)
so
fucking
stupid.

fuckin brackets won't work where the shitty parenthesis be, damn it. shitheads..

Saint Ontonio, Nebraska.

A nice, small, homey neighborhood. Closely associated, everyone knew everyone else. It was routinely kept nice and proper. Dogs walked at the same time each day in the morning and evening, same paced steps as every other day. The rate of crime equaled that of the entire state's average crime rate. I'm still not sure whether (or what)I should moaning or grinning mischievously about.

Having said all those things about this town.

I hate it.

It's like some alien dimension where the kids (however few there are) have curfews of six-thirty to keep from ending up at the subway, heading to New York or California.

It may be a lovely and cute little place to live for some people. But it's hicksville to me. I've lived in Paris, New York, Rome, London, Tokyo and even Queensland, Australia. But, fucking hell, this place is like a penitentiary my parents put me in to hold me down.

I can't help it if I like to be free and hate being caged in my small, barely as big as a closet, four walls that they call a room.

Looking out my window, I see the mailman walking by with his navy blue bag with khaki shorts and socks rolled up to his knees. Like the mail-man in almost all real-life based movies, he seemed to be in his forties with graying hair and wrinkling skin.

And I thought movies and TV-shows weren't true but just fictions made to fool one into thinking life is a lot better than it is.

Dammit, reality bites. Hard.

Why did we have to move here again? I was perfectly content with living in Sacramento, California. Why is it that after six months of staying somewhere, after I get settled in and have decent friends, crushes and memories, we have to move all over again? We move here, my so-called birth town, and dad quits his job, the main reason we kept moving, and decides to really stick to his promise of finding a place settle.

A 'picture perfect' daughter walks pass my window with her unnatural curls bouncing and white nylons with shiny, black, leather shoes clacking on the pavement sidewalk. She's even jumping rope in a light blue, country girl dress.

If this is as exciting as its going to get, I just might be adding some stuff to the statistics of the crime ratio and boost it up about thirty percentages because this town is in such desperate need of action and excitement.

Speaking of needing excitement. My sister is home. I can go to her and talk and it will be like we aren't even in any place but our own little world where we escape from the reality mom and dad are trying to make us live.

My sister has the keen ability to read people's emotions and react accordingly and react effectively.

She's a lot of things I want to be when I grow up. Strong, pretty, smart, independent, creative, and most of all, she kicks ass when people try to mess or take advantage of her, or especially me. But I'm not saying I want any of her problems. She's certainly got more than her fair share. Not to mention - I hate her.

"Anissa, come and eat," I heard my mother call to me. But you know what the worst thing about being in Hicksville is? All the ridiculous pies of every flavor out there that are given to you as welcoming presents. No one ever eats them all unless they are some pie-eating champion. I swear, we got at least eight pies within the first hour of our arrival. Seriously, don't these women have work and stuff to do besides bake pies and bake bread? God. The suburbs are freakin wack.

Before I had even so much as lifted my leg to set on the ground from the bench I was sitting on, I could hear mom and my sister yelling over something so randomly. It never ended unless they were out of hearing distance of each other because mom always had something to say to my sister.

Always.

Well, I won't go into much detail, but let's just say that Alyssa is more a Daddy's girl than anything. The only relation between mom and my sister is that they look almost exactly alike. It's insane. The hair, build, face, cheekbones, hands, skin shade, everything. Except one thing.

My sister has these piercing, awesome, green eyes. Ones that no one has ever had on either side of our family. Mom has these brown eyes that make you think that she is innocent and unable to commit a crime even as little as yelling at her daughter. Lucky mom.

I have my dad's eyes. Piercing, like my sister's, but not green. Icy blue ones that I absolutely love. And blonde hair that looks silvery and all my friends and family envy me for. I have mom's build though, and my dad's nose, and my mom's face and yadda yadda yadda. I know you don't want to hear about how lovely I look. Just be glad I cut off my sister's description like I did mine. Otherwise, I could think up three to four pages back-to-back of just me saying how awesome my sister and I look.

Really, I could.

"Yes, mother." my sister remarks bored, picking a warm muffin up from the basket on the table. Alyssa never really tried to fight back - she tried to stop them, most of the time. It was only when mom said something darkly that only reached Alyssa's ears that Alyssa ever did find it in her to counter every word from my mother's mouth.

"Alyssa Jami Misawa!" I was standing at the entryway to our... kitchen. The table was pushed back into one corner and took up a fourth if the room. It was a really small kitchen. Dad was sitting on a chair, elbows propped up and hands covering his ears while bearing an amused smirk. Alyssa was tossing the muffin up and down casually, a slightly... amused but bored look on her face. I didn't know what was making that face, but I figured it out a minute later.

Mom turned around and naturally, like any mother who prefers her youngest over her oldest child, she disapproved of the older's actions, however little they were.

"Alyssa, stop playing with that! Don't play with food! Give me that now!"

Like a good daughter, Alyssa tossed the muffin over to mom. Mom missed and dropped it to the floor. But what Mom, Dad, and I didn't expect that Alyssa did (I know she expected it because she knew how the muffin felt and shit) was the muffin to hit the wooden floor a loud and surprising clank. Like that of stone hitting wood.

Which, technically, was what it was.

Alyssa had the bored but amused look on her face because when she was tossing the muffin up and down, it wasn't soft or bread-like - it was rough and hard. Did I mention she keeps to herself, even to me? Alyssa makes the word introvert look bad.

Apparently, one of the boys who had brought over the muffins was trying to pull a prank on the newcomers.

Just as mom picked up the rock muffin and scoffed, I saw a head pop in our kitchen window. A teenage boy's head. Brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin. He was kind of cute, but I didn't really think about that at the moment. I was a bit mad - the fucker played a prank on us! Of course, I ran to the door to catch the little son of a bitch. It was the most excitement and freedom I was going to get for a long time where I was and I was most definitely not about to pass it up.

Alyssa didn't pass it up either. "The fucker is stealing something of ours."

We ran for at least two minutes. We had to'ave.

I was crossing a street and looking both ways to make sure some crazy bozo to run me over. I slammed into my sister's back, knocking her off balance and sending me flying towards the asphalt. I was pretty sure I got a couple of rocks shoved into my hand, but I didn't notice. I was back on my feet and jogging in less than a second.

"We're not getting him, today." Alyssa murmured to me, sending me one of her cool glances. She held out her hand, signaling to stop.

"Damn," I said, annoyed. I was a bit out of breath, which meant I was angry and hadn't been breathing while running. I'm not in amazing shape, but I was in good enough shape.

I looked to the house we were standing in front of and wondered just how far we had really ran. It was a pretty big house. Two floors, and basement, a nice big white and red porch and paved driveway. I looked at the mail-box, and like any other home, it had the last name of the family in gold metal plates. 'Tanega', it read and from two of the letters sticking out, from the High school I would be going too, I saw one adressed to a Shugo Tanega and a Rena Tanega on 9745 Kiwa DR.

Kiwa DR?

All of a sudden, I realized that we had just ran after some kid like we were freaks for at least five blocks.

Why did I have the sinking feeling in my stomach that, instead of being threatened with guns and shit, like at our previous schools, we were just going to be ignored or feared? I hated that. It meant that they thought they had the power. It meant that I didn't have any reasonable way to retaliate without looking like a fuckin dousche.

Alyssa turned around without saying anything and headed back to the house. Half the time, I wondered if Alyssa ever did anything spontaneous for the hell of it or because she knew I'd do it. Not because she's a follower or anything, but because she's my older sister and she knows me so well and doesn't want anything bad to happen to me. For some reason, she looked like she was thinking pretty damn hard.

Who cares - all I know is that I don't want to be here.

Looking from side to side, I heard kids going, "Who are those cwazy people in cwazy clothes?" with their child talk, still unable to differentiate their 'W's from their 'R's. And their mother's or older siblings around my or Alyssa's age going, "Freaks, you don't want to mess with them. They are scary."

Yep. I hate highschool.

(-)

Beep--beep--beep--beep--beep--...

Ever wonder why time has to be so cruel as to pass by faster than normally just to interrupt a particularly pleasant dream where you are on a date with your crush and are about to kiss when the consistent and annoying buzz of your alarm clock awakes you?

I most certainly wonder every time, every morning. And you know what else?

I hate alarm clocks. The worst invention ever made by man.

I was ready to murder Ferdinand McGellen for his horrid and hated invention. But I had no clue where he was or if he was even alive to even plot ways to give him death so I took it out on the alarm clock.

I took the alarm clock in my hand... and threw it out the window rather violently and angrily. For future reference, don't wake me up before I want to get up. Otherwise, there will be hell to pay.

Today was the first day of high school. Wow. I'm so happy. Really, I am. I can get out of this stink-hole where I live and sleep and eat into a place where there will be kids who will probably prank me but some others who will have heart and become my friend. But the pranking probably wouldn't stop because those other people would probably be low of the social status anyway's. And have nothing truly special about them. Except they could do some weird thing that's so weird and crazy that it deserves to be shown on an episode of "Ripley's, Believe it or Not".

Ranting. So I'll continue a little bit more, more for my sake than yours because I really don't give a fuck about who you are or anything.

I bet Alyssa ten bucks the day before that before the high school building even came into sight while walking to school, we would either be water ballooned, told a lie, given bogus id cards, or fed some shit about certain teachers that are better than others and some are worse when it's the total opposite.

I really hope she wins the bet for our own sanity.

This school isn't going to be able to do shit to us that we won't be able to hand back at them tenfold. The school is so small I doubt there's going to be anyone in it on the first day.

City kids don't belong in small towns - they belong where there's enough people to keep them sane. Where there's fucking action. Not rumors and talk.

We wear what we want to wear - mainly consisting of black - and we wear it regardless of anything and anyone.

Why was High school so frustrating? Aren't the teachers always saying that they want us to be as comfortable around them as possible?

And why the Hell did it have to fucking start at seven-fifteen in the bloody morning? Aren't they alsoalways saying that we need to get enough rest for school, too? How the hell are we supposed to get enough sleep when we have to wake up at six-fifteen just to barely get to school on time?

I hate school.

I hate teachers.

And most of all.

I hate this small mother fucking town.