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Two little kids were lightly swaying on the swings of an old abandoned playground. One of the children was a girl. Who was very short, and a bit chubby, the little girl had dark chestnut hair framing her face and deep, dark blue eyes. While the male of the duo had short cropped blonde hair and green eyes, a future heartthrob.

They were slightly scuffed up. Showing signs of rough playing. Dirt marks covering their faces and little red patches on their knees. They both had rather large grins on their faces, lighting up their mugs in such a way that they forgot they had problems at all.

Then all of the sudden, the young boy got up and stuck his hand in front of the girl., “Promise we’ll be best friends, Kira?” The girl stared at the boys hand, contemplating, and then she grinned, “Best friends forever Caleb!”

The start of an everlasting promise, and the end of an everlasting friendship, for the next day, would be the end of the innocent world of one.

“No!”
The frightened call.
“Don’t hurt them!”
Frightened screams erupt.
“Find you place in hell b***h!”
Murderous eyes glowing.
“No! Don’t kill them!”
A frightened mother.
“Run kids!”
Children frozen in their shoes.
“Mwuhahaha!”
Gleeful maniacal laughter.
“RUN!”
A plea.
“Die! Go to the place where you belong!”
One brave child stepping up to defend the mother.
“NO!”
A quick step back
“Say hi to Lucas for me!”
A raised dagger
“How could you do such a thing to your own brother!”
The last words.
“Because he had the girl, and if I can’t have the girl… THEN NOBODY CAN!”
A quick thrusting motion. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
And all goes black…

I was walking down the streets as usual. Hearing the sounds of other teenagers running around, throwing footballs around, hanging with their friends, smoking weed, whatever their preference. Like any other day, I heard the usual name calling. Not that it really mattered anymore, you get used to it after hearing it since you were 5. You would think that 15 year old teenagers would have something better to do than poke fun out of a fat girl. Not that I’m fat. Not really at least. Compared to all those anorexic sluts, I look like a whale. But really, I’m 5’8, and 180 pounds. Whoop-de-do, a whole 20 pounds overweight. Not that it really matters, I could run it all off if I tried.

“Hey everybody! Harrison the heifer is stomping down the street! Run for cover!” Wow, such a big, bad insult. Not that I would ever say that. I don’t want to blow my cover. After all, every year I haven’t failed in becoming the ‘quiet mouse’ of the year. Every year. Not that I’m complaining. I would say something like ‘Hey a*****e, I wouldn’t be talking! At least I’m not a 5’4 midget who weighs 170 pounds!’ , but… I don’t see the point in wasting my time with somebody who obviously has nothing better to do then torment people who he ‘believes’ are weaker than him, in many aspects.

And like any other cliché movie. We have the jocks. Definition? Big muscled guys who have a consistent C average. Then there are the dope heads. The ones who skip class to smoke weed, or school in general, and then get caught and put on parole. The tech whizzes. They are the ones who make our school so popular. They make the best state of the art equipment. The band geeks. Enough said. The preps. You know who they are. Every school has them. The girls who believe they are at the top of the world, and they have tiny little figures that probably come from being anorexic.

And then… there’s him. Caleb Matthews. The most popular guy in school. MVP of the year, for football, basketball, and baseball. The class president. And all around good guy who loves helping the poor and working in soup kitchens. My former best friend. We were best friends all the way from the day we were born till the 4th grade. When he moved to England and when he came back he totally ignored me and I was invisible. He grew up early into his adult figure, and me? Well I just stayed the same. Or so everybody thinks.

Everybody believes I’m a big fat loser, literally and figuratively, at least in their minds, who doesn’t have a job and is extremely poor. And I’m a freak cause everybody ends up catching me when I’m talking to ‘myself’, or so they believe. But in reality I’m really a-
“Dark Liger, you copy?” -undercover assassin. Now don’t go screaming, or anything. I’m not gonna kill you unless you’re A.) a ***** that rapes little girls and boys. B.) a robber. C.) a business tycoon who steals money from people. Or D.) all of the above. So you’re pretty safe. But if your not… prepare for a beat down, one you will never wake up to.

“Dark Liger! Answer me damn it!” I rolled my eyes. Then started talking to ‘myself’. “I’m here. God don’t get your boxers in a twist Phantom Lion!” “Where are you?” “It’s seven in the freakin morning on a Monday. Where else do you think I would be? Swimming in an ocean with sharks? Being tossed off of Mt. Everest?” “Well we can definitely tell your not a morning person…” “Damn straight!” I guess I yelled that pretty loud since everybody stopped doing what they were doing and looked at me like I was a freak, not that I’m not, no, no, of course I am, just... It’s worse when people actually tell you, you are. It’s kind of depressing actually.

So I just looked down at my shoes and started walking faster, whispering hurriedly under my breath. “Ugh! Ari you a*****e!” “Hey! Stop with the names! It’s Phantom Lion! If you want to go with full names, stop calling me by my real name Kira Trina Hollie Fernanda Raina Scotia Harrison!” “You are gonna die tonight Ford.” In the mind of Ari Ford, 17 year old genius, 6’0 tall, lanky, gray eyed boy, he only had one thing going through his mind the whole time, ‘Well… s**t’