"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BE-" the girl slammed her fist on the alarm, forcing it into snooze.

She buried her head under her pillow and groaned. She didn't want to go to school. She was up too late roleplaying with her friends.


"AUGH!" she jumped up about eight feet into the air from her bad, tumbling off of it and landing with her rear end on the floor.

"Damn it, Naet!" Rayvin hollered, throwing her pillow at her howling foster brother, who in return threw the air horn at her. "Get out!"


"Robhin? Sweetie? It's time to get up!" the mother sang, flicking the light on and off to get her up.

Robhin yawned and lifted up her eye shades. "Mom, it's only seven ten!"

"I know, but we have to get up early if we want to stop by the Seven Eleven for breakfast and still get you and your sisters to school on time."

"That's another thing I've been wondering. When we drop the hurricanes off at the contaimnent center, why don't we leave them?"

She realized that her scented candle was still going. With a smile, Robihn leaned over and puffed the little flame out.


Jaye woke up on her own. Although she hated getting up in the mornings, she did want to see her friends at school. She opened her window, accidentally slamming it up too hard, and she hoped she didn't wake anyone up.

She welcomed the cool breeze that flooded her room nearly instantly. Sometimes she wished she could fly away in the breeze, away from her home, her room, her-

"JAYELEN, GET DOWN HERE!" her uncle bellowed, and she hastilly put on her clothes and ran downstairs.

Her uncle had a belt in his hand, and he tapped it expectantly.

This happened every morning.

"You woke up too early," he said grimly. "You woke up my wife."

"I'm sorry, uncle."

"Sorry doesn't cut it in the real world, girly. Get over here."


"I should probably get up," Makingh sighed.

"I should probably sleep in," Birhd growled.

"Get up."

"Sleep in."

"Get up!"

"Sleep in!"



Makingh-Birhd sighed and stood up, and went to the mirror. She brushed one side of her hair. The other side she sprayed with a ton of hair spray, keeping her curls in place.

When she finished, one side of her looked solemn, the other with a crazy grin.

"Ready," the two sides chorused in unison.


Sparrow yawned and rubbed his eyes. Another great night of sleep.

He looked out the window. It would be an hour before his parents got up. He had to get himself to school on time.

"Piece of cake," he grinned.

He hopped out of the window of his tree house, and slid down a pole he planted there. He wore the same thing every day: The same green tee and jeans.

He landed on the soft ground and started to walk. He had enough time for a nice stroll before school.


Pidgin yawned and cricked his neck. He'd been up all night, but he still wasn't tired.

He rummaged through his garbage can, and found a half-eaten donut and a coffee half-filled with tossed caffinated coffee.

He sighed and climbed the fire escape latter to the roof of the apartment complex. The sun had just risen, and the city in the morning was beautiful.

He ate his donut and sipped the cold cofffee. He could see his school from here.

He looked to his life, and looked at his rock garden. It was just a little dirt with a few rocks in a pattern. But Pidgin loved it.

He wondered what kind of food his friend may bring him today. Maybe Rayvin would bring him a bagel with cream cheese. He could use something like that about now.


Ducki packed up his white backpack, and grabbed a bottle of water. He put on his lab coat cosplay, and straightened his black tie.

"Oh, you are a dashing dabonaire, aren't you my friend?" he mused in the mirror. He chuckled. "Of course you are, you're a doctor. Everyone loves a doctor."

"You mean a nurse?" his father was behind him. Ducki blushed.

"W-well, I'm STILL almost a doctor."


He opened his purple eyes and sat up in his coffin. He looked around.

Another dream come and gone. That'd be the fourth time this month.

He sighed and got out, and went over to his wardrobe. He pulled out a dark purple sweater, and his black scarf.

He sighed and looked at his reflection.

There wasn't one.

Crowe frowned, his fangs poking out over his bottom lips. He hated being a vampire. He hated feeling cold. He couldn't feel anything all that much, just the warmth of his prey.

At least his friends didn't care. They liked him, at least.

And he admitted, they were good for company.

Especially Rayvin.

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