A/N: Random person I met on omegle who said they liked my story, this is for you. Hey guys, *shuffles feet awkwardly* I'm so so sorry it's been so long, I've been on a couple vacations and I've just been really busy, please forgive me, it won't happen again. If you'd be interested in seeing more of this story, please PLEASE review, I can't stress enough how important that is. As always, I love you guys, keep on keepin' on.

6 AM was approximately four hours earlier than she would have been okay with being up. Clove always questioned herself in the morning, wondering if getting up two hours before the first bell even rang to do her hair and makeup was worth it. In the end she always decided that it paid off when she stepped onto school grounds feeling (and looking) like one of the girls from her prized copies of Vogue.

Unfortunately, as Clove's alarm clock went off at precisely 6:00 like it did every school day, she found herself with a lack of motivation to even get out of bed. She groaned to herself, her hand coming down sharply on top of the clock, effectively silencing it with a thud. She let her arm fall back down onto her mattress as she pulled her knees up to her chest, cuddling up under the blankets in a futile attempt to keep warm. Her father always kept their house much too cold for her liking which often meant sleeping in sweats, even in the middle of the summer. She sighed, glancing back over at the clock which now read 6:07 in large red obnoxious numbers. She suddenly found herself wishing that minutes in the morning went as slow as microwave minutes and that she could just 11:11 wish away school but she had come to understand that the world was at an imbalance and that sometimes even Clove Sevina did not get what she wanted.

With an aggravated sigh, she flung back the covers, letting the icy air of her bedroom hit her cotton cloaked body as she swung her sock covered feet over the edge of her memory foam bed. She arched her back slowly as she reached up, pulling her hair loose from its bun on the top of her head. Her dark hair fell in a tangled manner over her shoulders while she raised her arms above above her head, stretching out her limbs. With a yawn, she lowered her arms to her side, slipping them into her sweat pant's pockets. She then shuffled across the hardwood floors of her bedroom towards her closet, which was not so conveniently located on the opposite side of the room.

She mentally cursed herself for not picking her outfit the night before, she'd just been so tired, she hadn't been thinking straight. Now she'd have to waste her precious moments trying to decide on something to wear and that was truly a tragedy. Biting her bottom lip, she flicked her finger across the light switch that controlled the light in her closet revealing an abundance of fabrics and colors, all neatly organized in rainbow order. A calming sense washed over her at the presence of order and structure, things she desperately craved in her everyday routine.

She took a tentative step into the carpeted room, breathing in the smell of fabric softener and dust and scanning the hanging clothing with a critical eye. She quickly decided that she wanted to wear a dress, it was too warm for pants and she was classier than wearing shorts on the first day. She took another step forward, inspecting the section in the back of her closet where the dresses were kept (rainbow organized of course). She chewed on her thumbnail as her eyes landed on a lacey royal blue dress with a mid length skirt. She reached forward, pulling it loose from its hanger, holding it up to her body. She rubbed the fabric between her index and middle fingers as she looked over the top half. After a few more moments of deep contemplation, she came to the conclusion that the dress would be a good pick. She let her pajamas fall to the floor before pulling the dress on over her head, adjusting the straps so it fit correctly. Satisfied, she took a step back and turned towards the mirrored wall on her left to see how she looked. Ignoring the fact that her hair was still a rat's nest and her makeup wasn't done, she thought she looked good, better than good actually. She bit her bottom lip, rocking once on her heels before turning towards her bathroom. She swiftly reached for her hair brush, taking it in her hands before running it through her long dark hair. She frowned as she pulled it through the abundance of knots, her hand tightening around the handle. She raised her eyes, watching herself in the mirror as she lowered the hairbrush and set it back on the counter before finger combing her hair. Her naturally straight hair hung limply across her shoulders the same way she'd allowed it to do all summer long. A sigh escaped her lips as she reached under her granite countertop, her hand wandering across the bins under her sink until her fingertips brushed across a familiar device. She smiled a bit, pulling the curling iron up, plugging it into the wall socket in the blink of an eye as she shifted her weight to her other leg, tapping her fingers impatiently on the counter while she waited for the curling iron to heat up.

Approximately 5-6 minutes later, the barrel was hot to the touch and Clove set to work. Curling section by section carefully, she gave each strand enough heat to transform the straight pieces into loose rings.

The transformation from her bare face and boring hair to a flawless and put together look took until nearly 7:30 (which was to be expected). An assortment of intricately arranged brown eyeshadows adorned her eyelids, pale pink blush sat upon her cheeks, and her lips were coated in a nude/rose color. She was happy with the way she looked, or as happy as she would ever be.

The thing about Clove was that she was never truly pleased, not with others, or herself. There seemed to always be some fatal flaw that kept her from being perfectly content. Enjoyment was something she had trouble gathering from her day to day life thanks to the plethora of tiny imperfections and defects that riddled the world around her.

Ignoring the fact that one eye's liner was (nearly) undetectably thicker than the other, she grabbed the black backpack she'd selected weeks ago for the upcoming year and headed out of her bedroom. She cast a fugacious glance backwards, already looking forward to returning to the room later that day as she shut the door behind herself.

After procuring a rather small breakfast, she climbed into her faint turquoise convertible Bentley, sinking down in the cream leather seats while sending off a few texts, her father's 'no texting while driving' speech echoing in the back of her mind as her fingers flew across the virtual keyboard. . After pulling on her seatbelt, she crammed her keys into the ignition, her keychain jangling against the side of the car as she switched into reverse, backing out of her garage and onto the stone driveway to the home.

The wind danced through her hair as she drove down the familiar paved streets towards Meridian High School, already dreading the boring first day that would undoubtedly be filled with lectures on rules and syllabuses.

She chewed on her lower lip as she pulled into the loop directly outside Meridian, already having to dodge ignorant Freshmen who hadn't yet learned that walking through the upperclassman lot was strictly prohibited (Or rather, highly frowned upon). She inched into a park spot, rolling her eyes as a group of the Senior basketball players darted in front of her chair, jeering at and harassing a Sophomore boy who'd thought it was a good idea to walk by himself.

"Out of the way...assholes," she called, the last word inaudible as she slammed on the breaks to avoid mowing over the boys, irritation seeping into her voice. She'd anticipated that it would be a bad day, but she hadn't been expecting to deal with 17 year old males acting like children.

"Fuck you, Sevina," a tall, deep voiced boy shouted from the middle of the group, eliciting a round of laughter from the others. She narrowed her eyes at the boy in response, pressing down a little harder on the brakes.

"You wish," she laughed coyly, pulling off her seat belt and stepping out of the car as the boys "ooo'd over her comeback. The boy who'd spoken earlier (who happened to be named Jason) merely shook his head, laughing.

"Let me know when you stop being a prude, we can talk then," he smirked, exchanging fist bumps with the other guys as they crossed the parking lot to the front doors.

She exhaled sharply, outwardly brushing off the comment as she grabbed her bag from the passenger's side and began the quick trek from the upperclassman lot to the front doors.

She tried to focus on the sound of her shoes on the pavement as she pulled her schedule up on her phone, examining the room number of her first period class. "A233," she muttered under her breath, looking up to pull the large glass front door open and slide inside.

She knew immediately that her class was upstairs and in the A wing, but other than that, she'd have to do a bit of searching. She slipped her phone back into her bag and sighed, lifting her head up and looking around the sunlit hallway that was already filled with noisy students. She noted as she climbed the stairs in the A rotunda that it smelled of fresh paint and newly vacuumed carpet, two things that made her feel a bit more relaxed. She was beginning to think that the day would be more aggravating than she had originally planned, after all she hadn't even seen any of her friends yet. As she located A233, she let out a slow breath, hoping that perhaps Glimmer or Jacqueline would be in her Economics class.

Her eyes searched through the sea of unfamiliar faces, carefully trying to detect a friend or at least an acquaintance. However she had no such luck, with all the seats mostly taken, she was fairly sure that she might actually have to brave Economics on her own. She groaned inwardly, choosing a seat next to a large, sweaty boy who reeked of Axe body spray and another empty seat, saying a quick prayer in her head that it would remain vacant. She used her final moments before the bell rang to examine her surroundings in an attempt to familiarize herself with the room she'd be spending the following semester in.

Just like she'd thought, the bell rang shortly after and a thin, frail older woman came trotting in.

"Hello class," she started, trying to get her voice heard over the noisy kids. Clove sat up a little straighter, staring intently at her.

"Kids, children...Could you all jus-" her scratchy voice was drowned out completely as the wooden door of the classroom was ripped wide open again, revealing a smirking Cato Hadley.

"You're late," the woman muttered, glaring over the tops of her glasses at the tall blond as Clove sank down lower in her seat.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Cato shrugged, barely glancing at the teacher as his eyes scanned the room, quickly landing on Clove's.

"Could you just-" she let out a string of profanities, pushing her glasses up higher on her nose. "Sit down," she muttered, putting her hands on her hips as she walked to the back of the room with the intent of reprimanding a herd of particularly loud males.

Without taking his eyes off of her, Cato sauntered down the aisles of desks, nearing the brunette with an amused look in his eyes. "Hey, can I ask you a question?" he asked, his bag slung around his shoulders.

"You just did, fucker," she muttered without hesitation, looking away. He laughed a little bit, running a hand through his hair.

"Is anyone sitting here?" he tried again, gesturing towards the empty seat beside her. She raised her eyes back to him, staring at him angrily.

"No," she said simply, tapping her fingers on her knee.

"All I needed to know," he shrugged, sliding into the seat beside her, letting his bag fall to the ground. She avoided eye contact, folding her arms across her chest as she played with the lose plastic rim of the desk.

"So uh, you going to the game Friday?" he asked suddenly, looking over at her, his chest rising and falling quickly as if he'd just run somewhere.

"Cut the small talk, Cato," she said sharply, rolling her eyes. "You don't care if I'm going to the game, just say something rude to me and we'll call it a day, kay?" she snapped, looking over at him. Cato laughed, raising his hands up in mock surrender as Clove narrowed her eyes at him.

"Sorry, sorry," he chuckled, clearly amused. "Just checking to see if you were going to come see me play," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you want me to?" she countered, quirking an eyebrow back.

"Couldn't care less," he said in a lazy voice, trying to mask the fact that he really did want her to come.

"I'll think about it," she shrugged, looking straight ahead. "Maybe if I have nothing better to do."

"See you there, Princess," he smirked, very well aware of the fact that Clove Sevina was just like the others, she'd never be able to stay away.