A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first fic (as you probably already read in the summary). I really hope you like this!

Before you read this, you need to know that it's a really unbelievable story. Honestly, I almost don't believe it myself. My life's been changed forever, and it all started with shoplifting. Just a tiny bit of shoplifting, mind you, and if you saw how cute that pair of shoes was you would understand. Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning...

My name is Faith Morgan. The morning of the day this all started, I was at my desk in Arts For Education Academy in New York City. It's a school for "problem students" like me to "learn and grow through being educated about the arts". (Those are the principal's words, not mine.) Apparently, learning about poems and plays all day long would turn any kid into a model student. It was the last place I had wanted to go, but after being kicked out of seven other schools, my foster parents really didn't care.

That morning, I was in history, which was taught by Mrs. Clingman. She was pretty weird, but then again, all our teachers are pretty weird. They were all young adult women with startlingly blue eyes, which alternated between looking full of life and energy to looking dreamy and far away, like how people look when they daydream. We only had nine teachers at AFEA and a principal, but for some reason the school board never hired anyone new.

I tried to read what she'd written on the blackboard, which was hard for a dyslexic like me. Then, my classmate Eve elbowed me in the side.

"What?" I said, annoyed.

She whispered in a singsong voice, "Cole's staring at you again." I turned around and sure enough, Cole Rivers was eyeballing me. He'd been crushing on me ever since I moved to this school and he acted like he couldn't believe I didn't feel the same way. It wasn't that I hated him, but he was a wimp and walked in a funny way.

RIIINNG! The school bell went off, signaling the end of the day and scaring the you-know-what out of me. No matter how many times I heard that bell ring, for some reason it still startled me. I gathered my things and shuffled out the door with everyone else.

I stopped at my locker- which was painted all over like the lockers on Victorious- and grabbed my worn-out blue messenger bag with my initials, FPM, embroidered on the front. As usual, I ran through a checklist of all the things I needed to bring home. Pencils? Check. Notebook? Check. History book? Crap, I'd left that in Mrs. Clingman's room. I just needed to go back in the room and grab it, so I did, but when I walked in, my jaw dropped. My history teacher was sitting on her desk with her legs crossed, which she never did. She was wearing a white tank top, deep blue jeans, and no shoes, and I was pretty sure she'd been wearing a purple dress when I left. Her thick brown hair, which she normally wore in a bun, was tumbling down her shoulders. Weirdest of all, she was strumming one of those little harps and humming a tune. I walked out of the room without her noticing me, but also without my darn history book. Oh well, what would it matter if I "forgot" my homework one more night?

The rest of the afternoon was pretty much ordinary. I checked in with my foster parents, Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, then headed for the mall. I didn't actually have any money, but I liked window shopping. Plus, I had a lot to think about.

The day after I had told him there was no way we could be a couple, Cole had been admiring me like nothing had ever happened. My totally ordinary teacher had been sitting on her desk, barefoot like a hippie and playing the harp. Not to mention that Eve had been acting strangely. A few days ago, I had said something about how my teachers didn't seem like real people, and she acted like I was right about that. I hadn't thought much about that, though. Why on earth would my teachers not be human? If you didn't look at my ADHD, dyslexia, and insane family, I was just a normal kid.

I was in there half an hour before I saw The Shoes. They were sitting in a designer handbags store. They were orange (my favorite color) ballet flats with a bow at the toe and a little blue logo near the heel. I rushed in and looked at the price tag, which almost made me faint it was so high. I loved the shoes, but there was no way I could have them. Unless...

No, I told myself. Stealing is wrong. Honestly, I'd stolen before, but it was only things like candy, gum, and nail polish. Every time I did it, there was this rush of adrenaline, but I would tell myself that this was the last time I would steal. Sadly, my brain does not understand the words "last time".

It was like my hand grabbed the shoes before the rest of me could react. I turned to the wall where no one could see me and stuffed them into my purse. Only when I was walking out did it occur to me that I should've checked for security cameras, but by then a guard was already on my tail. I did the first thing that came to mind: run.

I dashed past at least fifteen stores, not really thinking about where I was going, before he caught me.

He grabbed my shoulders and said harshly, "Where do you think you're going with those shoes, young lady?"

"I'm not sure about that, really." I replied.

He didn't find that funny. "You're coming with me," he said while leading me away.

We ended up at what looked like a jail cell in the wall. He opened the door, pushed me in, and re-locked it. I grabbed on to the bars, like an old prisoner desperate to get out. As the guard walked away, he said something like, "Kids these days have no sense of following rules. We got ten-year-olds stealing hundred-dollar shoes..."

"I'm twelve, thank you very much!" I yelled, but I don't think he heard or cared.

I turned to look around the empty cell, only to find it wasn't empty. Standing in the opposite corner was none other than Cole Rivers.

A/N: So, whatcha think? Visit my profile if you can, 'cause it's always changing, but most importantly, please review! I'll have more PJO coming up later and also some Alex Rider fics.