Part 1A

Monday, Morning

Sam

Yo, I'm Sam Peterson, and I'm what you'd probably call, 'quirky'. Or just annoying. I'm a strange kid, I always have been, and I like it like that. I've got a sense of humor that you'll either get and laugh your ass off at, or find strangely bizarre. Or both. I'm generally a relaxed and easy going person, light-hearted and laid back. I'm a smart kid. Not a super brain, but smarter than your average student. I'm occasionally super-hyper and will do something extremely strange and out of the blue should the mood strike me. I'm not particularly popular or recognized by most of the school.

Probably because, despite my sometime random and bizarre antics, I'm often quiet and removed. It's weird and hard to explain, but I guess I really don't start acting up till I get excited or someone encourages my insanity. I'm an only child so I'm used to being alone and in my own little world. I think differently from most people ('outside the box', yeah yeah) and my mood seems to govern most of my personality. When I get down, I'm very, very quiet and mope a bit. When I'm pissed off, I see red and lose my temper in a big way, though it generally takes something either very, very big, or very, very personal to get me mad. I've only gotten really 'mad' a few times in my whole life. My temper seems to have hot and cold, and little in the way of lukewarm. When I'm happy I'm all smiles and generally insane and so full of energy and bounce that I can become annoying as hell. That's when I get started in on insane stunts, pranks, and general mischief.

But most of the time I'm just kinda there. I tend to watch things, watch people, keep to myself and just observe. I can be very unnoticeable when I get like that. Sometimes people look right through me. I'm typically a bit cynical and sarcastic, though happy-go-lucky is no stranger to me. Lost yet? I figured. People generally don't understand me or what I'm about, and really I don't know myself. I'm a giant contradiction in many ways. I don't follow much of a pattern of behavior, but the few people who have bothered to get to know me seem to think I'm a pretty ok person. I never mean any harm, and I'm pretty mellow, even if that's hard to see that sometimes.

So I'm unconventional and a bit touched in the head. What's wrong with that? 'Normal' people are boring and I chose not to be.

I have one or two friends, and some class acquaintances and people I talk to, but don't really know. Aside from that I'm one of the unknowns, I guess, which I actually kinda like. Sure, sometimes I wish a few more people liked or noticed me, but then I remember most people tend to suck and change my mind.

I woke up Monday with enough time to clean up and look somewhat decent, though I've always been just a bit unorganized and disheveled. I cursed the world for making beds so warm and comfy and everything else so... not... then walked downstairs. Did I mention mornings and I aren't on the best of terms?

Skipping breakfast like I've been doing for the past six or seven years (part of hating mornings is not being hungry for them I guess. Don't ask.), I grabbed up my bookbag and walked to my car. I never really bothered checking in with my parents in the mornings. I'm probably too stubborn and independent for my own good, and neither of them is usually around. My Dad is usually, though not always, at work by then. And my Mom... well, she's not typically awake before lunchtime.

My car is a hunk of crap, a 1986 Cavalier. It was about the only thing my Mom would let my Dad get me. I didn't really mind hat it was a horrid car, and was slowly doing its best to commit suicide by falling apart on a monthly basis. Though that did kinda suck. I'm one of those rare guys who isn't altogether interested in cars. I knew a kickass car when I saw one, and I held out little hope of driving one anytime soon, so the rest didn't really matter to me.

I started the junkpile up and thanked the powers that be that the engine didn't fall out then and there. I drove the few blocks to school, rolling into the junior and senior parking lot. I climbed out and absently ran a hand through my shaggy curls, glancing around.

It was a typical Monday at Monroe High. Teenagers were wandering about outside, and a dull hum of conversation was audible already. I walked toward the main building and slipped inside, looking around silently. I watched people mingle about in the halls with mild interest. It was fun to people watch sometimes. You'd occasionally see some pretty funny and stupid shit.

Something felt different about today somehow. I couldn't put my finger on it, and since I couldn't think of any assignments or school events or anything I just shrugged it off. I spotted Mikey across the hall and, grinning stupidly, waved at him with my Anatomy book. He laughed and waved back. Mikey isn't really a friend, I don't know him very well, but he's a good guy and he sits beside me in Economics. I would have gone over to talk to him for a minute, but his boyfriend Robby walked over to him and started talking quietly. I figured I'd give them their privacy.

Yes Mikey is gay. Do I give a shit? Can't truthfully say I do.

I stood around for awhile, doing more people watching, not really paying attention as I slowly walked in the direction of my homeroom, waiting for firstbell to ring. Why wasn't I mingling and talking and having a jolly old time? Because too many people are boring.

As I continued to make my way down the hall, Bret Wilson turned and walked toward me, and roughly shouldered me aside. I hopped a few times to get my feet back under me, nearly colliding into the lockers. He glanced back and snickered at me like an idiot. I sent him a glare but otherwise ignored him. Bret was a prominent football player, and was a good foot taller than me. Did I mention I'm 5'4"? I'm 5'4". Bret was a muscle head, the consummate, stereo-typical jock who got off on his own little part in football. He was an enormous guy, a mountain of muscle on top of muscle, and likely outweighed me by well over a hundred pounds. He was one of those guys whose face had muscles, and I'd often wondered just how much of his muscle was natural and how much came from an unhealthy diet of steroids.

I dunno why, maybe because I'm so much smaller than him, but Bret has had it out for me since freshman year. Or maybe it has something to do with that time I made him look like an ass(which he is) in Algebra.

Nah...

I reached my homeroom and was about to stroll inside when the intercom blared on. I ignored it, as was my habit, till I heard my name.

"... And Sam Peterson, please report to the Principal's office immediately."

They'd called someone before me, I think, but I wasn't paying attention. Damn it, now I had no idea who had gotten me into trouble.

With a half-hearted 'tsk' I started for Principal Markinson's office. The old man was pretty nice and more reasonable and fair than I would have thought coming in my freshman year. Still, I'm pretty sure he thought I was some kind of possessed demon-child, even though we got along pretty well and I wasn't THAT big of a trouble maker. Still, it was, y'know, not an impression I really minded, heh heh.

I reached the waiting room in front of his office feeling sure I was going to get chewed out for taking my time. And not really caring. I gave a sloppy salute to his secretary, who sent me a sour look. She was kinda a bitch. I ignored her and went to settle in a chair to wait, but she cleared her throat and looked at me over the rim of her glasses.

"Please hurry inside, Principal Markinson is waiting," she said. I shrugged and got to my feet and walked into Markinson's office.

As soon as I stepped in I knew something was up. Something I did NOT like. Principal Markinson's office was pretty small; a wide desk with a floor-to ceiling- window behind him and those old fashioned cheap vertical blinds. His different boring diplomas and certificates were hanging on the left wall. Two chairs were pushed in front of the desk, and someone was sitting in the right chair. I wasn't paying attention to that though. My eyes were locked on Principal Markinson and the short woman standing beside him, Counselor Taylor.

Counselor Taylor had been my Counselor since freshman year and over the last three years tried (unsuccessfully) to get me to be more normal. She was dressed neatly like always, and a pamphlet was in her hand. Principal Markinson was a little chubby and had a comb-over of thin, graying hair. He was tanned, developing wrinkles, and had glasses with lens about as thick as my index finger.

And I knew exactly why I had been called in here.

"You really want to let me free into the school in the buff?" I blurted.

The principal smirked slightly but grew more serious after a moment.

"You know you have to do this Mr. Peterson," he said. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"I know, I know already. Just don't hold me responsible for any heart attacks people experience this week."

"Please try to behave yourself Sam," Counselor Taylor said, though the sternness of her voice didn't come through the amused look on her face. They both knew that while I was certainly a mischief maker, I wouldn't do anything truly terrible to break rules or cause trouble. And I knew there was no escaping this. I figured I may as well at least accept it and try to make it easier on myself. At least that's what I kept telling myself.

The Program had come to claim me, just like it did everyone else.

Dammit, this was going to suck.

Jenna

Hi, I'm Jenna Mathews, and I hate public school. Probably because I went to Catholic school till just this year, my Junior year. I still don't know why my Dad is making me go to Monroe.

Don't get me wrong... Monroe is a nice enough school, a lot better than some of the horror stories of high school's I've heard about. But it was definitely different from Catholic school, and I had to start all over you know? Plus it's rowdier and more out of hand than Catholic school, more loud and fast. That's to be expected I guess. Of course, it probably seems worse than it is to me since I've always been kind of shy. I'm the smart kid, the girl who makes all the good grades and all her teachers like.

There are a lot of weird things about me. I think my family has something to do with that. My mother left my father and I when I was two and I know that effected me. For a really, really long time it was just him and me. My Dads a good man, a hard working man, but he's really forgetful, preoccupied, and totally scatterbrained. I think sometimes he forgot about me. I was lonely a lot and I'm sometimes timid because of that.

Things were a little different when I was seven, and my father remarried. His new wife, my stepmother Karla, was eight years younger than him and only twenty-four at the time, and she was pregnant two months after they married. They had five kids together, three boys and twin girls.

How do I feel about all this? It's hard to say. After several years of being all alone, except for when my father could manage not to be absent minded and pay some attention to me, all these new people enter my life. I know most people wouldn't think it would be a good deal for me. But it was. Even as a little girl, I had become very aware and very conscious of my life and environment, moreso than most children I've ever heard of. The memories and experiences are still very vivid and solid in my mind, and I remember what it was like to be so confused and lost and vulnerable.

Karla is pretty cool to tell the truth. We get along well. She's nice, she tries to be friendly and have a place in my life, but she also respects my space and doesn't try to boss me around like most bitchy step-moms. My sisters, Jessica and Ashley, are twins. They're a bit strange sometimes, classic twins who delight in keeping secrets and sticking together in their own little world. They're good girls, curious and smart. I try to set a good example for them.

Tony, Edd, and Theo are... little boys, simple as that. Loud, rowdy, and always getting into trouble.

Having such a lively change in my family life brought me out of my shell a bit. Because of the school transfer at the end of last year I don't have too many friends. I'm a smart girl, and probably more of a nerd than I ought to be.

I woke up Monday and put Lifehouse in my CD player while I got up and started getting ready for school. No one remembers Lifehouse anymore, but I love them. What I don't get is that when they first came out in 2000, they were the top played radio band of that year with their song Hanging By A Moment from the No Name Face album. Sure that was years ago, but how could they be played that much and no one remembers them? It's so unfair!

I took a quick shower and sat down on my queen bed to brush out my hair while I glanced over notes for Psychology and notes on Anatomy.

I threw on some clothes, a loose purple and lavender Old Navy shirt and a pair of jeans and some of my comfier sandals. I pulled my thick hair, which normal hangs to my butt, into a tidy, tight bundle on top of my head. I wasn't really a jewelry and makeup kind of girl. I didn't think I was attractive, and stuff like those things wasn't going to help me get any prettier, so there was no point. Still, I think I looked nice enough. Not slobbish, but relaxed and easy going.

Downstairs in the dining room, breakfast was underway. We didn't have a super fancy house, but it's better than most, and gives our large family a bit of room to breath. My dad builds bombs for the military ( which makes me scared for our country ) so he's pretty well paid. Karla already had cereal on the table for my brothers and sisters and added one for me as I took a seat. I thanked her and she smiled. My dad had to leave early for work sometimes, and today was one of those days.

"Did not!" Theo roared, giving Tony a shove. Tony glared at his older brother and seemed to be trying to decide if he was going to return the shove or not.

"Settle down you two," I instructed around a mouth half full of cereal. I took a pretty active role in helping Karla out with the kid's most of the time. She says I'm a better Mom than she is.

"Do as your sister says," Karla enforced from the kitchen. The boy's settled with reluctant grumbling.

Ashley tittered suddenly, and I glanced over at her and Jessica, who was whispering something into her sisters ear.

"What's funny?" I asked with a smile.

Before Jessica could intervene Ashley announced, "Jessi has a boyfriend!"

"Do not stupid!" Jessica whined.

"No one's stupid," I giggled, taking a glance at Jessica and shooting her a teasing grin. "So who's the lucky boy?"

Jessica flushed a deep pink and slid low in her seat. "Jeremy Miller. But he's NOT my boyfriend!"

"That's not what you said a minute ago," Ashley piped in slyly. Her twin gave her a withering glare.

"How come you don't have boyfriends Jenny?" Edd, the youngest of the boys asked.

"Because boys are stinky," I replied. I ruffled his dark hair and carried my bowl to the sink. Alright, so I lied. I liked boys. I think (I've never kissed a boy or even had one touch me) I was virgin in about every sense of the word. That doesn't mean I don't like to look at them... I just know most boys are jerks and assholes and just generally suck. I've heard enough post-breakup moping from Theresa to know I didn't want any part of that kind of stress. She continued to struggle on to find a guy suitable for her, but then she'd always been more stubborn and tenacious than me. I don't think I could take falling for a guy then being rejected or losing him. I'm too big of a wimp.

Plus I was picky. I know the old saying, 'picky and lonely are best friends'. But I had this stupid Cinderella notion in my head that someday the right guy would find me, and there was no point settling for some jerk who would just hurt me in the meantime.

I got my things together and got into my Mustang (my dad got me a car that wasn't a total piece of garbage. I was impressed!) and drove to school. I walked into the main building and hurried inside. I usually meet Derik, who along with Theresa was one of my only friends, before homeroom. But I was running late today and hurried on, trying to beat the bell.

"Jenna Mathews and Sam Peterson, please report to the principals office immediately." Came crackling over the intercom. Sam, Sam... I couldn't place the name as anyone I knew. Maybe the incidents weren't related? I started feeling a bit nervous. I never got called to see Principal Markinson. What could this be all about?

I was actually pretty close to his office as I walked to homeroom so it only took me a minute to arrive. His secretary looked up from her desk.