Mari Mancusi

Gamer Girl

Gamer Girl

Mari Mancusi

To all the irl gamer grrls out there who totally pwn the boyz. Hawt chixOrz FTW

CHAPTER 1

GRANDMA'S HOUSE was a study of crystal and glass and contained 1,153 unicorns. I knew, because I counted one drizzly, dreary Thanksgiving when we were stuck inside waiting for the world's slowest turkey to brown. Horned beasts of crystal, glass, china, wood--she called them her "babies" and treasured them more than her dwindling life savings. (Dwindling mainly due to her unicorn habit. You wouldn't believe the prices of these things from the Franklin Mint.) Whenever we'd come over, she'd sit me down and show me her favorites.

She had a lot of favorites.

That was fine and tolerable when we lived an hour away and saw her once a year. Over the river and through the woods and all that. But now we were living with her. In her museumlike house. Surrounded by unicorns.

I suppose my story isn't unique. After all, half of marriages end in divorce, or so they say. Maybe I should count my blessings that Mom and Dad stuck it out as long as they did.

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Still, having to vacate our uber-hip Back Bay Boston brown-stone, leave my private school and friends behind, and move to Unicorn Land--all in the middle of my sophomore year-- was a bit much.

But I had no choice. Mom and Dad weren't speaking, unless they were yelling. Neither one could afford the mortgage on the brownstone, so they smacked down a For Sale sign and split--Dad to a smaller apartment down the street and Mom, me, and my eight-year-old sister, Emily, to New Hampshire. To Grandmother's house we go.

I can't even begin to tell you how painful that last day at my old school was. Saying good-bye to all my beloved teachers, promising my friends I'd IM and text at every possible second, cleaning out my locker, and tearing down the My Chemical Romance poster I'd stuck on the inside door on the first day of the school year. I'd been so full of hopes and dreams for the year back then. I was going to join the art club, write for the school paper, and, of course, make Ashley's older brother, David Silverman, my boyfriend. (Okay, the last one was a long shot, but you couldn't blame a girl for being goal oriented, could you?) It was going to be the best year ever.

Now, four months later, it was gearing up to be the worst.

"Maddy! You'd better get down here or you'll miss the bus!" Grandma called from downstairs, bringing me back to my hellish reality, aka my first day at Hannah Dustin High School. There were prisoners on death row more excited

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about their pending visit with the electric chair than I was about my enrollment.

I mean, hello! First off, there was a bus. An actual bus to take me from my middle-of-nowhere Grandma's house to my still-middle-of-nowhere school. Back home, I always walked. Met my friends at Dunkin' Donuts for French crullers and coffee, then giggled and gossiped all the way to the campus of Boston Academy. Now I'd actually have to board a smelly, fume-filled, environment-destroying bus to get to school. At least I was getting my license in a few weeks when I turned sixteen. Though my chances of getting Grandma to lend me the car were slim to none.

My cell buzzed, scattering all thoughts of transportation. I glanced down to see the text. From Caitlin.

GOOD LUCK ON FIRST DAY!

I smiled, feeling a tiny bit better. At least I had my friends. Sure, they were farther away from me now, but they still cared. I punched in Caitlin's number.

"Hey, girl," I said into the phone after she answered.

"Oh, hey, Mads, how's it going? How're the 'burbs? They arrest you for not wearing Gap yet? Turn your mom into a Stepford wife?" Caitlin had a habit of asking at least four questions in the same breath, making it impossible to answer any of them.

"Hardy-har-har," I replied. "You are too funny."

"Whatevah. At least I'm not funny-looking."

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"Haven't looked in the mirror lately, have you?" I asked, with mock sympathy.

"I'm looking now, bay-bee. And I'm looking fine. DAMN fine."

I grinned, picturing my best friend dancing in front of the mirror as she was known to do, flaunting all that God had given her to anyone who cared to look. Caitlin was born without an insecurity gene. She died her hair pink and pierced her own nose in seventh grade. Her mother was totally cool with it, too, saying that girls needed to express themselves early in life so they could blossom into healthy, self-sufficient women who didn't need a man to complete them. (Caitlin's mother was also divorced--after her husband ran off to Vegas with his secretary. Some believed she was still a bit bitter about the whole thing.)

Hmm. Maybe my divorced mom would now let me explore the Manic Panic hair color rainbow, too. It'd be so cool to get some pink streaks in my hair. One time Caitlin and I went to Harvard Square after school and got the clip-on kind. Mom nearly had a heart attack until she found out they weren't real.

"Madeline!" Grandma again, this time sounding more insistent.

I groaned. "Sorry, Caits, gotta run before Grandma has kittens and starts sneezing to death."

"Okay, no prob," Caitlin said. "Good luck today. I hope you meet tons of uber-cool rock girls and sexy, sexy bad boys."

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"I'll settle for anyone not openly worshipping the gods of Aberzombie," I replied with a laugh. "I'll miss you guys. Don't have too much fun without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it. We'll mourn you all day and fast in your honor at lunchtime. Unless they're serving pizza, of course. If they're serving pizza, consider yourself gone and forgotten."

"Fair enough. I'll call you after school to let you know how it went."

"Cool. Later, gator."

I pressed End, grabbed my hoodie, and vacated the Pepto-Bismol-colored, unicorn-themed bedroom Grandma had stuck me in. Pretty nauseating, let me tell you, though I couldn't exactly complain. After all, originally she wanted me to share it with Emily. I think I would have stabbed myself with a unicorn horn if I had to bunk up with my little sis. Luckily for me, Emily wasn't so keen on the idea either and used her big mouth to voice her displeasure. Repeatedly. So Grandma cleaned out her sewing room and declared it Emily's. Kid had a gift for getting exactly what she wanted. I envied her that.

I started down the shag-carpeted stairs and found Grandma standing in the unicorn-infested living room below, a sentry guarding the path to freedom. And let's just say her stern, disapproving look could have been picked up by a satellite.

I glanced around for Mom, but she was nowhere to be found. Must have already left for work. Not good. I bit my

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lower lip, knowing exactly what was coming before the woman even opened her mouth. "You're wearing that to school?"

"Uh . . . yes?" I really couldn't think of anything else to say. I prayed I was wrong about Mom being at work and that she'd suddenly come around the corner and assure Grandma that my look was perfectly acceptable for a twenty-first-century teen. But no luck.

Okay, fine, maybe I should have dressed a tad more conservative. We were in the suburbs after all. But image was everything in high school and I felt I needed to make the appropriate "This is who I am" statement from day one to attract the right friends. (Sad, but true.) So I'd donned a short plaid skirt, paired with Doc Marten boots and a zip-up hoodie over my Pooka the Goblin Cat baby doll tee. It said, Gothy, but approachable.

At least to me. Grandma was obviously getting a different message as she fanned herself with a wrinkly hand, shaking her head in disbelief. Eesh. You'd have thought I'd come downstairs in Britney Spears's last VMA outfit.

"Madeline Ann, you look like a dead prostitute," she declared.

I opened my mouth to defend and retort, but reluctantly closed it again. We'd been drilled by Mom since day one not to talk back to Grandma. After all, she's sooo nice to let us live here. We need to respect her and her rules.

"I don't know what kind of getup you wore back in that

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city" Grandma said, spitting out the word city as if it were poison. "But you'll find kids in Farmingdale don't dress like that."

It was an effort not to roll my eyes. How did she know what kids wore? When was the last time she hung out at the local high school? I'd be willing to bet it was back when Grease was still the word. I looked longingly at the front door, wondering if I could just make a run for it. Grandma was old. Had arthritis. She probably couldn't catch me if I dashed outside and caught the bus just as it was picking up the neighbor kids down the street. . . .

Then, as if by a miracle, I heard a beep outside. Phew.

"The bus!" I cried. "Gotta go."

Grandma leaped in front of the door, effectively blocking my escape. For a lady approaching seventy, she sure could move quickly. "Not so fast," she said. "I'll drive you." She folded her arms across her chest. "After you change."

"But. . ."

"No buts. Now hop to it!"

My shoulders slumped. I wasn't going to win this, was I? I trudged over to the stairs, my feet feeling like they were made of lead. Out the window, I caught the bright yellow vision of freedom pulling away from the curb.

"You know," I remarked as I climbed, stair by stair, "I don't have anything in my closet you'd possibly approve of. Seriously. Most everything I own is black."

But Grandma had already thought of this. "Don't worry,

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sweetie," she replied immediately. "You can borrow some of my clothes."

I stopped walking. Oh, no. No, no, no!

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later I'd been stuffed into a pair of bulky, pale blue "mom jeans" that came up past my belly button and a totally nonfitted oversized sweatshirt with--brace yourself here--frolicking unicorns embroidered on the front.

It couldn't get worse. It just couldn't.

I looked in the mirror, tears welling up in my eyes. "Please, Grandma. I can't wear this to school. Seriously."

"And why not?" she demanded, coming up behind me and straightening my sweatshirt. "I think you look adorable."

Of course you do. "Yeah, but they're ..." I was about to say old lady clothes, but remembered Mom's warning not to offend. "No one my age would be caught dead in this kind of outfit," I amended. "If I show up like this, everyone's going to laugh at me."

"If they laugh at you, then they're not your friends." Grandma huffed. "Real friends don't judge people by what they wear, but what they're like on the inside."

There was a huge, gigantic flaw in that argument since she was the one who made me change clothes in the first place, but I realized it would do no good to point it out.

Instead, I looked back in the mirror, praying maybe I could pull it off as some kind of edgy street wear the kids in the 'burbs hadn't heard of yet. Like, Dude, unicorns are so in right now, where have you been? But it was no use. While I might

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have slid by with the unicorn thing, there was no way the mom jeans would escape notice.

I would have to kill myself on the way to school. Or run away and join the circus. Or . . .

A plan formed in my mind. As soon as Grandma dropped me off, I'd leave campus and find a store. There had to be stores around somewhere. Buy a decent outfit and head to class. I might have to miss first period, but it would be well worth it.

"Okay, let's go," Grandma said, jingling her keys.

Feeling better at having a plan, I joined her in her ancient Toyota and let her drive me to school. Ten minutes later she pulled into the parking lot. I looked up at the brick building on the hill. What would it be like? Would my teachers be cool? Would I find new friends? I looked down at my hands and realized they were shaking. I wished for the thousandth time I was wearing my normal clothes. I would have felt a hell of a lot more confident dressed as me.

I exited the car, thanking Grandma for the ride. To my dismay, she pulled the key out of the ignition and joined me on the curb.

"Um," I said, looking at her smiling face with concern. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I'd walk you into the office," she replied, obviously pleased with herself.

Oh, God. Oh, God. "You really don't have to--"

"I insist."

Of course she did. She also insisted on grabbing me by

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the hand when we crossed the street and her iron grip didn't loosen as we approached the school. The sinking feeling in my stomach was getting worse.

I could feel the stares as soon as we reached the school entrance and heard the snickers. Not surprising, I guess. How often did you see a grandma dragging a unicorn-clad girl through the front doors of your local high school? They all probably thought I was special needs.

"We'll go to the principal's office and get your schedule," Grandma explained, as if I were a five-year-old on her first day of kindergarten. I hung my head and prayed for some kind of divine intervention. Maybe I was only dreaming. I'd wake up any second now, cozy in my bed, realizing this was all just one big, long, horrible nightmare.

But no such luck. I was really here. And the nightmare was my reality.

We stepped through the double doors, into a sea of lip-glossed Barbies and Tom Brady wannabes. I did a double take. Caitlin warned me this could happen, but I'd laughed her off. Surely every high school had some diversity, right?

Evidently wrong. It was as if I'd wandered into a living, breathing American Eagle commercial. Shudder. I looked around, desperately trying to pinpoint at least one person who would prefer Hot Topic over H&M, but came up empty.

Where were the mop-headed emo boys and Edward Cullen-worshipping Goth girls? Where were the skater kids? The punk rockers?

I felt a lump rise to my throat. This was so not good.

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Anger burned in my gut. Stupid Mom for leaving Dad. Maybe if Mom wasn't in such a hurry to skip town, they could have gotten counseling or something. Worked it out. Then I'd be back in Boston right now, in my old school, laughing with my old friends, without a care in the world.

Instead of rotting away in my current hell.

The sea of kids parted, suddenly, almost diving out of the way. I look down the newly formed path, raising my eyebrows. Four kids--two boys and two girls--sauntered down the hallway in a way you usually only see in teen movies. Heads high, shoulders back, self-satisfied smirks written across their perfect faces. They might as well have been wearing T-shirts with the word popular scrawled across the front.

"Who are they?" I wondered aloud, forgetting Grandma for a moment.

"You must be new," a Buddy Holly/Elvis Costello look-alike to my right chuckled. The only kid I'd seen so far that even remotely stood out from the rest of the clones. "That's Hannah Dustin High's royal court. Billy, Chad, Lucy, and Chelsea. In that order. They pretty much rule the school."

That much was obvious, given the awed stares of the rest of the kids. I studied the four of them closer. Lucy wore a cheerleading outfit. No shock there. Chelsea, on the other hand, was channeling her inner Jackie O, dressed to impress with a pristine pink suit, complete with a requisite string of pearls and a dainty white clutch in her well-manicured hand. It should have looked old-fashioned, but the girl totally worked it.

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I turned my attention to the two boys. Billy was tanned, tall and muscular, good-looking--your typical jock meat-head, really--wearing a Patriots jersey and camouflage pants. And Chad .. .

My breath hitched as my eyes fell on Chad. He was tall, too, but lean--like a cat, almost--carrying himself with the slinky grace of a model or movie star. He had curly blond hair and piercing blue eyes, framed with long sooty lashes. A chiseled face with perfectly sculpted cheekbones and a full mouth that looked perfectly kissable.

I shivered. Utterly delicious.

Not that it mattered. I mean, let's face it. Even if I were dressed in my normal clothes and not unicorn chic, no one like him would ever go out with someone like me. I was a skater kid's girlfriend, not the homecoming queen. And this wasn't some bad eighties Molly Ringwald movie like Pretty in Pink.

Besides, I reminded myself as I forced my gaze away from his beautiful face, he was probably dumb and spoiled and used to girls fawning over him. Good-looking guys usually were. Especially if they found themselves in the popular clique, as this guy had. I'm sure he would annoy the hell out of me the second he opened his mouth.

Still, I had to admit, there was just something about him. . . .

I realized the four of them had stopped in front of me. Oh, joy. Time to be sized up and judged by the popular clique.

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This day was getting more and more like a bad after-school special every minute. After the commercial break, I'd probably start drinking and doing drugs, just to fit in, only to have my best friend die and my mother convince me to head to rehab and restart my life, friendless, sober, and alone, but strangely happy and peaceful about it all.

"Nice shirt." Chelsea sniffed, giving me a once-over.

"Yeah, I think my five-year-old sister has one just like it," Lucy added snottily.

"Hey, leave the girl alone," Billy said with a smirk. "It's obvious she's horny!" He cracked up at his own lame joke. "Get it? Horny? Like the unicorn on her shirt?" He high-fived Chad, who seemed a bit reluctant to slap his hand back. Or maybe it was just my imagination.

In the meantime, the hallway erupted in laughter and jeers, totally egging him on. I could feel my face burning with humiliation as I stared at my feet, wishing to be anywhere in the world but here. I couldn't believe it. Two minutes into my new school year and I was already the class joke.

I suddenly realized Grandma was squinting at Billy intently. At first I thought she might be considering coming to my aid. But then her face lit up and she squealed, "Billy? Billy Henderson? Is that you?" to my new arch nemesis.

I cringed. I had no idea what was coming, but I knew it couldn't be good.

Sure enough, Billy stiffened. "Hi, Mrs. Miller," he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. I cocked my head in

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question. The two of them knew each other? A split second later, Grandma had let go of my hand to crush Billy into a tight embrace. Guess so.

"Oh, Billy," she crowed, releasing him from the hug. "It's so good to see you! You're all grown up now. Last time I saw you, you were four feet tall and still wetting the bed!"

Laughter broke out among the crowd and Billy's face darkened to a beet red. I gaped in horror. This was not happening. This could not be happening. My grandma, embarrassing the most popular kid in school. On my first day.

Billy whirled around to face the crowd. "Shut up!" he growled. "She's lying. I swear."

Was it too late to pretend the old woman had Alzheimer's and had just wandered into school by mistake? Absolutely no relation to me whatsoever?

"Billy, this is my granddaughter Maddy."

Evidently it was.

She shoved me forward, having no idea about the scene she was causing. "Maddy, do you remember Billy from back when you were little? He used to live down the street. I babysat him while his mother was at work."

I stared at Billy. He stared back at me, his face a mixture of humiliation and fury. I read his expression clear as day. I was the one who would pay for this public embarrassment. And I would pay dearly. After all, the others might have eventually forgotten my fashion faux pas, but Billy would never forget this.

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"Come on, Grandma," I said, steering her toward the door marked MAIN OFFICE . "I need to get my schedule."

"Come on, Grandma," Billy mocked in a high-pitched voice as the elderly woman turned away. "Let's go home and play with unicorns."

I glared at him, wanting nothing more than to smack him upside the head and wipe that ugly smirk off his face. But what good would it do, really? There was no winning for me in this situation and I knew it. So I sucked up my pride and turned away, following Grandma into the office, where she was talking to a secretary. "I think you're all set now, Madeline," she declared, handing me a slip of paper. "I've done my grandmotherly duties. Now you behave yourself on your first day."

I sighed and took the schedule. "Thanks, Grandma," I said.

"Have a great day, sweetie, and I'll see you back at the house tonight." Stepping out into the hall, she called out, "I'll even make you your favorite bunny rabbit cookies."

Ah, yes, the bunny rabbit cookies I liked back when I was six years old. The icing on the anticool cake.

"Bye, Grandma," I said, resigning myself to my fate of school loser.

I reluctantly stepped into the hallway and faced the masses again.

"Aren't you going to say good-bye to Grandma?" Chel sea was teasing Billy, nudging him in the ribs. He glowered at her.

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"Shut the hell up," he growled. "I don't even know who that crazy loon was."

"She certainly seemed to know you."

"Billy wets the bed, Billy wets the bed," Lucy chimed in, in a singsong voice.

"SHUT UP!" Billy roared. He met my eyes with his, furious and full of hatred. "You are so dead, Freak Girl," he muttered under his breath. Then he pushed by me and into the crowd, which parted for him as it did before. His gang followed him, still giggling. Chad lagged behind, glancing backward. He caught my eye, gave a sheepish shrug, and mouthed the word "Sorry." Then he and his friends turned the corner and disappeared.

I stared after them, shocked by Chad's apology. I had so not expected that. Maybe he was different from his friends. Not that it mattered. Nice or not, he was way out of my league and I knew it.

Still, he was so cute. So, so cute.

"Wow, way to make a first impression," said a voice to my right as the crowd dispersed. I looked over to see the Elvis Costello boy on my right. He wore a black turtleneck, dark blue jeans, and thick black glasses over his brown eyes. Very hipster-nerd chic. "I'm Matt," he said, holding out a hand. "And you, Maddy, have just embarrassed the most powerful kid in school."

"I didn't say anything," I protested weakly, knowing that it didn't matter. I was guilty by association, and while Billy couldn't retaliate against Grandma, he could and would

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make my life a living hell. I just knew it. "This is so not how I wanted my first day to begin."

"Meh, it's really not about you, you know. Those guys hate pretty much everyone not in their immediate social circle. And that means ninety-five percent of the school. Funny, when you consider the same ninety-five percent loves them and worships the ground they walk on."

I made a face. "Well, not me. Count me in for hating the haters, thank you very much." Except maybe Chad. He was different. But I wasn't about to admit that to Matt.

"The Haters." Matt chuckled. "That's a fitting name actually." The bell rang, cutting him off. "Gotta get to class," he said, winking at me. "See you around. And don't let the Haters get you down."

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CHAPTER 2

I'D LOVE to say my day got better from there, but it would be a lie. I felt like a leper as I walked through the halls. I could feel people pointing and whispering as I passed. And why wouldn't they? I was wearing a freaking unicorn sweatshirt. And I'm sure there wasn't a soul in school who hadn't now heard of Grandma's taking on Billy Henderson.

I tried using my cell phone to call Caitlin--to at least get a comforting ear--only to have it confiscated by a teacher who told me that here at Hannah Dustin, cell phones needed to be kept in lockers until the end of the day. I tried sneaking out of school to buy a new outfit, only to be stopped and told there was no open campus here. I was trapped. A POW with unicorns on my chest. It probably could have been worse, but I wasn't sure how.

After what seemed an eternity, the final bell rang. I retrieved my cell phone from the office, then caught the early bus home. Mom greeted me at the door.

"How was your first day?" she asked, her cheerful expression

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not completely masking her tired eyes. Then she looked down at the frolicking unicorns on my chest. "That's a new look for you." She smirked.

I opened my mouth to tell her about the hell that was my day, then I saw Grandma lurking in the hallway behind her. "Fine," I muttered instead. "I've got homework." I pushed past her and headed up to my room.

"Fine?" Mom called after me. "That's all? What did you think of your teachers? Were the kids nice? Did you make any new friends?"

Anger burned in my gut at her questions. I knew she had no idea, but I couldn't help blaming her for asking. After all, she was the one who forced me to attend this miserable school to begin with. To leave my friends behind.

"Oh, sure," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Tons of friends. In fact, I'm a shoo-in for homecoming."

"Maddy, come back here and talk to me!" Mom called after me.

I ignored her, taking the steps two at a time until I reached the top landing and ran to my room. I flopped on my bed and grabbed my cell out of my purse and dialed Caitlin.

"Hello?" my friend answered a moment later, sounding out of breath and giggly.

"Hey, Cait," I said.

"Mads!" she cried. "How's it going? Oh, wait--hang on. ..." I could hear her talking in the background. "Okay, sorry," she said. "How did your first day go?"

"Oh, my God, it was horrible!" I moaned. "First, Grandma

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made me wear this shirt that had unicorns on it, and then--"

"Sorry, Mads, hang on one more time." More muffled conversation and giggles. Then she came back on the line. "Sorry. Me and Ashley are at J.P. Licks and we're trying to figure out ice-cream flavors."

A pang of loneliness shot through me. I should have been there with them. Eating ice cream and giggling. Probably flirting with Jon, that guy behind the counter we all had crushes on. But no! I was stuck in the middle of nowhere in a house that was more like a museum, after the worst day of school in my entire life.

"It's okay," I replied. A total lie. "I'll wait."

"Actually, can I just call you back later?" Caitlin asked. "Like, tonight or something? Or, um, tomorrow morning?"

"Sure," I said glumly.

"Cool. Later, gator." And with that, the phone disconnected, before I even had a chance to say good-bye. And somehow I knew in my heart she'd forget to call me back later. I was out of Boston. Out of their lives. Forgotten already.

I was totally and utterly alone.

A knock sounded on my door. I tried to ignore it, but Mom was never much for respecting space. She barged in and sat down on the side of my bed, studying me with pitying eyes. I rolled over to face the wall so she couldn't see I'd been crying.

"Bad first day?" she asked, sympathetically.

"Why do you care?"

"Maddy, of course I care. Don't be like that."

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"If you cared, you wouldn't have dragged us here to the middle of nowhere and let Grandma humiliate me." I quickly related what had transpired.

Mom let out a sigh. "I'm sorry about that, Maddy," she said, reaching over to touch me on the shoulder. I jerked away. "I didn't realize she'd take it upon herself to dress you and bring you to school. But she does mean well."

"Um, great. That makes me feel so much better."

"She's old and she doesn't understand. But she has a good heart."

I rolled over to face her. "Mom, she embarrassed me in front of the whole school and I wore embroidered unicorns all day!"

Mom sighed again. "I'll have a talk with her," she said. "It won't happen again, I promise."

"Don't you see? It's too late! The damage is done."

"Don't overreact. I'm sure it couldn't have been that bad."

"You weren't there. You don't know."

"What do you want me to do, Maddy?" Mom asked, defensiveness creeping into her voice.

That was easy. "Don't make me go back there. Let me go to my old school."

Mom shook her head. "That's not possible."

Please. It wasn't possible only because she was too selfish. Because she decided to take off on my dad and refuse to try to work things out. And we all had to suffer for it.

"I'll wake up early and take the commuter train in," I suggested. "I don't mind."

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"It's not the commute. Your old school costs a lot of money. I can't afford the tuition."

I gave up. "Fine. Whatever," I growled. "Maddy ..."

"I'm tired. I want to take a nap." I turned back on my side. I knew I was being childish, but at the moment, I didn't care. "Go ruin someone else's life for a while."

Mom sat there, unmoving. I could feel her stare at my back. Then she slowly got up and left the room.

Once she was gone, I rose from my bed and pulled my sketchbook out of my bag. I sat down at my desk and started drawing. It was the only thing, sometimes, that could pull me out of a bad mood. When I picked up a pen, it was like I entered an alternate universe. All of life's problems faded to the background and I lost myself in my art.

I was especially fond of Japanese-style art and had been creating my own manga. A graphic novel, if you will. I'd been writing a fantastical story about a girl who gets sucked into an alternate reality and has to fight demons and monsters. But today I found it hard to work on. Maybe because my own demons kept coming to the surface. And so I turned the page and started sketching a scene from school. Walking into school with Grandma, wearing the unicorn shirt. Billy mouthing off, me looking mortified.

I sighed, staring down at the drawing. I really should have done something. Told him off. Kicked his ass. Showed him he couldn't intimidate me. But no, I was a coward. A stupid coward.

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Inspired, I ripped off a new sheet of paper and sketched how the scene should have gone. This time, instead of me slumping my shoulders and playing the coward, I stood up to Billy. Pushed him back. Told him to leave me the hell alone. I drew in the other kids' faces. Impressed. Awed. They'd never seen anyone stand up to Billy before. I was their hero.

I laughed as I looked down at my drawing. It was silly, for sure. But in a weird way it made me feel a tiny bit better.

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CHAPTER 3

THIS ONE'S from your father."

My mother shoved the brightly colored box at me as if it were a hot potato she was anxious to be rid of. Not surprising, I guess. Since their divorce, she treated most of Dad's stuff in this manner. You should have seen the yard sale she held the day after he moved out. The shoppers were shocked to be handed expensive parting gifts as they left the brown-stone--"just for stopping by." Dad was pretty surprised, when he came back to collect his stuff and found out it'd all been sold or given away to people who Mom said obviously needed it more.

I accepted the gift from her, shaking it gently as I sat back down on Grandma's shag-carpeted living room floor, anxious to figure out what was inside the haphazardly taped-together box. Despite being born gift-wrap challenged, Dad always came through with the best presents ever. And he never cheated either, asking what I wanted before heading to the store like some clueless grown-ups did. He just instinctively

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seemed to know exactly what I'd want before I knew that "what" even existed.

"Open it!" urged my younger sister, Emily, from her crossed-legged position next to Grandma on the couch. At age eight, she had naturally curly, white-blond hair and naturally zero patience for anything that didn't directly involve her. In fact, I was pretty surprised she'd made it this long through the gift-opening portion of my sixteenth birthday celebration. No doubt Mom had bribed her with promises of ice cream and chocolate cake for when we were through. For ice cream and chocolate cake, Emily would have sat through a reading of the Constitution. Backward and with debates on each amendment in between.

"Come on!" Emily shouted, sounding more annoyed this time. "And don't do that thing where you slowly tear off each piece of tape to save the wrapping paper."

"Now, Emily. There's nothing wrong with recycling the paper," Grandma scolded her. "Wrapping paper doesn't just grow on trees, you know."

Actually I was pretty sure it did--at least indirectly-- but there was no need to get into that kind of debate with Grandma. Mom would only get annoyed and then we'd have to have that talk again about how lucky we were to have Grandma to stay with after we had to sell the house because of the divorce. Oh, yes, so very lucky.

To satisfy Emily, I made a great show of tearing through the paper, crumpling it into a ball, and throwing it at her. After dodging her return throw, I looked down at my present.

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I squinted at the box for a moment and then broke out into a wide smile when I recognized what it was. "Fields of Fantasy!" I said, reading the name emblazoned on the box. "All right!"

My mom groaned. "A video game? He sent you a video game? After I told him time and time again that you needed socks and underwear?"

"I have plenty of underwear, Mom," I muttered, turning over the box to read the back. Not to mention that even if I were down to my last pair, I had zero desire for my father to be the one wandering through Vicky Secrets, selecting new ones. I mean, what if he got me, like, a thong or something? I would literally be required to die of embarrassment right then and there and that would be the end of it.

"But still! A video game?" Mom scowled. "Well, that just goes to show you, your father has never and will never grow up. He's always messing around with those computer games. Now he's recruiting you, I guess."

It was about time, too, I thought but didn't say. I'd begged Dad to let me play Fields of Fantasy since he got the game himself a year ago. But he kept insisting I wasn't old enough to join an online gaming community like this. Too many foul-mouthed, inappropriate adult players, he said, and wouldn't relent, even after I informed him I'd already heard every swear under the sun in high school. Finally, he promised, after weeks of my whining, that once I turned sixteen he'd let me play. But I figured he'd long forgotten and had no idea he'd buy me my own copy. What a great birthday present.

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I noticed a card had fallen from the gift. I tore it open and read Dad's note.

DEAR MADDY,

OKAY, KIDDO! I PROMISED YOU THE GAME AND HERE IT IS! ONCE YOU CREATE A CHARACTER WE CAN PLAY TOGETHER. THIS WAY, EVEN THOUGH WE DON'T LIVE IN THE SAME HOUSE ANYMORE, WE CAN STILL HANG OUT VIRTUALLY WHENEVER WE WANT!!!

SO GO AHEAD WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

INSTALL THE GAME ON YOUR AND MEET ME IN THE FIELDS OF FANTASY!

LOVE,

DAD (AKA ROCKSTARBOB)

"Wow, that's so cool," I remarked, trying to peel off the sticky tape holding the box closed. "I need to check this out now." Yup, once again Dad managed to come through with the most original, most rocking present. And what a great idea--to find a way to meet up online. He must have missed me as much as I missed him.

"You have ten minutes," Mom told me. "Then it's time for cake." She rose from her seat, signaling that the present-opening portion of our evening had ended. Guess she really wasn't trying to trick me when she swore up and down that she hadn't bought me an iPod for my birthday or signed me up for driver's ed. Doomed to exist another year being the only sophomore alive who was still sporting a practically antique

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Discman. And there sure wasn't a new car in the driveway either.

Don't get me wrong. I wasn't one of those spoiled My Super Sweet 16 kids you saw on MTV. I knew money was tight and the last thing I wanted to do was make Mom feel bad for not being able to provide for us. The woman worked two jobs, just to keep us in clothes and shoes. But at the same time I couldn't help but be a little resentful. After all, if she hadn't ditched Dad, there'd be plenty of money for high-end electronics. Not to mention a house we didn't have to share with Grandma. Back in my hometown. With my friends.

Actually, make that my former friends. As in the ones who didn't even bother to show up for my birthday party. I'd IMed both Caitlin and Ashley a week ago to invite them and they swore they'd be here. But then about a half hour before the party, they both texted me--Caitlin couldn't get a ride. Ashley was "sick."

Yeah, right. How convenient. Especially when I went on Facebook and saw there was a big party at David Silverman's house tonight. Traitors. But, hey, I probably would have ditched my own party for that, so I couldn't really blame them. I just wished they'd had the guts to tell me the truth.

I sighed and scrambled to my feet, stepping over piles of discarded wrapping paper, pink sweaters from Old Navy that I'd never wear, the Barbie from Grandma, who failed to realize that I was no longer eight, and the designer clothes for Barbie from Emily, who was eight and obviously plotted to

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steal both doll and wardrobe as soon as my back was turned and thus make even my birthday all about her.

After throwing out a generic thank-you, I headed upstairs to my bedroom and switched on my computer, slipped the game disc into the CD drive, and started the install. The computer was a divorce gift from Dad, though Mom preferred to refer to it as a bribe, saying it was way too high end to simply do homework on. I was glad to have it now, though. Fields of Fantasy had some demanding system requirements.

As I waited for the disc to install, I skimmed through the instructions. It was an adventure game, a sort of Dungeons & Dragons meets Lord of the Rings type thing. You played online, creating a character to fight monsters and win treasure. I'd watched Dad play for hours--he was totally addicted--and it always looked like such fun. I was thrilled to finally have a chance to become a gamer girl myself. Not to mention it would be great to get some quality alone time with Dad--something that rarely happened even during our weekend visits, mostly because Emily was endlessly demanding something to steal Dad's attention away from me.

My computer chirped at me, confirming the game had been loaded and was ready to play. I clicked on the desktop icon and logged on.

The program launched and stopped at a player selection screen, prompting me to design my new character. There were lots of different-looking types to choose from. Some were human, while others were random species--elves, half-lings, orcs, even undead creatures.

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I decided to go with a female elf, giving her long blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. She had a pouty red mouth, big breasts, and a skinny waist. About as different as you could get from black-haired, brown-eyed, flat-chested, real-life me. Which was exactly what I was looking for, actually. This way I could prance around the virtual world with ease, masked as an ethereal goddess. And no one online would have any clue what an ugly duckling hid behind the flawless elfin face.

Now if only I could send my character to school. All the boys would go wild over me. That would sure show the Haters (as I now liked to call them).

No, school had not gotten any better, in case you were wondering. My third week into Hannah Dustin was just as sucky as my first. I had yet to make a single friend and each and every day the Haters would go out of their way to make my life hell. My only consolation was all the inspiration it was giving me for my art--which had become full of the best comebacks and revenges on Billy. On paper, I was the most popular girl in school.

I turned back to the game, not wanting to think about school. It was time to give my alter-ego elf goddess a job. I studied the choices presented. She could be a brave, fearless knight, a holy, healing priest, or a wise and all-powerful magician. I glanced at the elf. She was so skinny, I wasn't sure about her wielding some huge sword. And she was certainly way too sexy to be a priest. That left magician.

Having made all of my selections, I had to pick a name. I wanted something cooler than simply Maddy--which al

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ways sounded more like an anger management problem than a name to me. Finally, after some thought, I chose Allora-- which was beautiful and exotic and fit my elf perfectly.

After a dramatic introduction with sword clashing and spell casting and rather thrilling music, the game cut to a cartoon scene of Allora, standing in a small, colorful elfin village. She was dressed in a low-cut red robe and carrying a big stick. She looked up at me and smiled, giving me a sly wink, as if she knew I was there, watching, ready to take control of her destiny. Kind of weird, actually. But at the same time pretty cool.

I used the mouse and keyboard, as the instructions stated, to run Allora around the village. There were thatch-roofed huts, grassy paths, and droopy weeping willow trees with cartoon faces carved into their trunks. I bumped into several other characters, dressed in medieval-style gear, also wandering about. A man in a beige tunic winked at me. A woman in chain mail waved hello. I stopped, realizing that all of the characters on-screen were being controlled by real-life people, logged on from their own computers in their own homes. I watched in amazement for a moment as the various elves, halflings, and humans bustled about town, going about their business as if this were their everyday existence.

Who were these people? Where did they come from? And what possessed them to take on a character and play this game? Were they bored? Lonely? Did they seek adventure? New friends? Or were they just trying to escape real life for a few hours?

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The whole concept was so cool. Being part of an online community where people mingled and made friends with those they'd never met in real life. In the game, no one had any clue who I was, and they didn't care either. I wasn't a loser who hadn't made a single friend at her new school. I was a beautiful elfin princess who was studying to be a mage. And no one had any idea I once spent a whole day wearing frolicking unicorns on my chest. Thank God.

I smiled. So cool. I couldn't wait to thank Dad for getting me the game. In fact, maybe he was online right now. I scanned his letter to find his character's name.

RockStarBob.

Oh-kay then. Not the name I would have picked for a medieval fantasy character, but whatever. I followed the instructions and typed him a message using the game's instant messaging feature.

[Allora] Hey, Dad! I got the game!

[RockStarBob] Hey, kiddo! I'm glad! How do you like it so far?

[Allora] Well, I just logged on, so I haven't really done much exploring. [RockStarBob] Ah.

[Allora] Um, do you want to come ... meet me ... I guess? [RockStarBob] Um ... [RockStarBob] Hang on a sec, hon. [RockStarBob] kk, back. Um, I didn't realize you'd be online now. So I started playing with some friends. We're

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in this big dungeon, right in the middle of fighting some monsters.

[Allora] Oh. Okay. Can I come watch you? [RockStarBob] Heh. No, sweetie. You're too low a level. You'd never make it in alive. [Allora] Oh.

[RockStarBob] Um, why don't you play by yourself for a bit and level up? And then later in the week we can play together. I can meet you after school on Thursday, around five. Just go to the Elf Tree Cafe, okay? I'll meet you there. [Allora] Okay! Cool. Sounds good. See you then! Thanks for the game!

[RockStarBob] You're welcome, kiddo. I think you're going to love it!

"Maddy! Cake time!" my mother called. Reluctantly, I logged off the game and trudged downstairs. I guess it was too much to expect my dad would just he sitting around waiting for me to log on. After all, how would he know when we were celebrating my birthday? Not like Mom sent him an Evite. And he did say he'd meet me Thursday. That'd be cool.

At the very least, it would give me something to look forward to when trying to survive yet another week of high school.

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CHAPTER 4

I n what state of mind is Romeo when we first meet him?"

Monday morning and I was in English class, sketching in the margins of my notepad while our teacher drilled us on the finer points of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

"Anyone?" Ms. Reilly asked, looking over the rows of bored students. She ran a hand through her curly red hair. She was really young for a teacher and I guessed still under the naive impression that she could actually make a difference in her students' lives. Of course soon enough she'd realize her role here was little more than glorified babysitter and she'd start practicing the method the old-school teachers favored, like wheeling in a television and letting us watch the movie version of whatever was on the curriculum that week.

"Come on, did anyone do this weekend's reading assignment?"

I did, nerd that I am. Not that I'd needed to. I'd read the play four times over the last three years and had seen both

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the 1968 movie and the way-cool Leonardo DiCaprio/Claire Danes modern update. There was just something about the tragic love story that really spoke to me.

But that didn't mean I was going to raise my hand and call attention to myself. I had enough notoriety at Hannah Dustin High already, thank you very much.

A crumpled piece of paper bounced onto my desk. I didn't have to turn around to know Billy and his cronies were responsible. Ever since that first day in school, when Grandma had told all his friends about his bed-wetting problem, he'd made it his life's mission to annoy and embarrass me. And he and his Hater friends were damn good at the job. I'd had my lunch tray tipped over four times, countless spitballs in my hair, my locker Super Glued shut, and my clothes stolen from my gym locker and stuffed down the toilet. All in the span of three weeks.

While I had never been the most popular girl back in my old school, at least I had my circle of friends. Girls to giggle with in the hallways and boys to pass notes to in class. Now I had no one. Not even my old friends, who were too wrapped up in their own daily lives to ever remember to call me back. And when they eventually did, they had new stories and new inside jokes--ones I didn't know or understand. I'd hang up the phone after talking to them, feeling even more alone than before.

Against my better judgment, I unfolded the paper. Someone had drawn a picture of a vampire girl that was obviously supposed to be me. The words FREAK GIRL were printed

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in big block letters across the page. Jerks. I crumpled up the paper in my fist, my face burning. Laughter erupted from the back of the classroom. I forced myself not to turn around, even though I wanted nothing more than to give Billy the finger.

"And what, pray tell, is so funny, William?" demanded Ms. Redly, suddenly stopping her lesson. She made her way through the rows of desks until she reached my nemesis and his gang. I stole a glance. All the boys had immediately donned poker faces. Innocent angels, the lot of them.

"Nothing, Ms. Reilly," they chimed.

She turned back to me. "Were these boys bothering you, Maddy?" she queried. I squirmed in my seat. Oh, great. This was the last thing I needed. Teacher intervention.

"No, Ms. Reilly," I said, silently begging her to go back to her lesson. Don't make it worse, I prayed. Please don't make it worse.

She narrowed her eyes. Of course she didn't believe me. She held out her hand and I reluctantly handed over the vampire drawing. After a brief inspection, she turned back and looked straight at Billy. "Wow, someone's quite the artist," she remarked pointedly. "Would you like to tell me who drew this?"

Billy's friends started laughing. Billy hissed at them to shut up. Ms. Reilly turned back to me. "Madeline," she said, "did William throw this at you?"

I grimaced, realizing my predicament. I didn't want to lie--especially not to Ms. Reilly, who was cool and interesting

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and tried hard to he a good teacher. But on the other hand, I wasn't a snitch. And the last thing I wanted was to piss off Billy even more. It would only end badly for me.

I made my decision. "No, I don't know who drew it," I said, sinking lower into my seat and praying she'd take my answer without pressing me further.

Ms. Reilly looked down at me for a moment, silent pity clear in her eyes. Great. She felt bad for me. Could I get any more pathetic?

"I know who drew it."

Heads turned to the opposite side of the room. Matt, the hipster kid I met my first day here, was madly waving his hand in the air, ignoring Billy's death look.

"It was Billy Henderson," he announced, triumph clear in his voice. I smiled a little. He was the only person I'd seen so far who dared stand up to the Haters. Probably because he was the only person who didn't buy into their whole high school royalty thing to begin with. I decided to make an effort to talk to him later. After all, he definitely had good-friend potential.

"Shut up, faggot," Billy retorted, glowering at the tattle-taler.

Ms. Reilly's head pivoted sharply. "William," she scolded. "Watch your language."

Billy opened his mouth to retort, but evidently thought better of it. "Sorry," he muttered. I noticed Matt giving him a friendly wave from behind Ms. Reilly's back, and stifled a giggle.

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"Billy, I want you to go down to the principal's office and explain your need to express yourself artistically in class," the teacher ordered. "Perhaps we could sign you up for after-school art classes or something."

Now the whole class was laughing. Billy scowled at the teacher, but didn't object.

The bell rang then and everyone jumped up, eager to leave so they could go out in the halls and gossip about the whole thing to their friends. I gathered my books as quickly as possible, trying to get out of there before Billy came down the aisle. Also, I wanted to find Matt and thank him for coming to my rescue.

"Madeline, could I talk to you for a moment before you leave?" Ms. Reilly asked. My shoulders slumped. So much for that plan.

"Yeah, sure," I said, seeing no other option.

Billy pushed by me to exit, deliberately knocking my Romeo and Juliet book from my hands. It fell to the floor and he stamped on it with a dirty boot, ripping the cover. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he said loudly. Under his breath he added, "You're so dead, Freak Girl."

I sighed. I should have known, even though I'd kept my mouth shut and it was Matt who saw fit to sell him out, that Billy was still going to blame me.

I reached down and picked my book up off the floor. Ms. Reilly walked over to me and sat down at the desk beside me.

"I've, um, really got to get to my next class ..." I tried.

"I'll write you a pass."

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Sigh. "Okay." I sank back into my chair.

Ms. Reilly smoothed out Billy's drawing on the desk, shaking her head. "He's not a very good artist, is he?" she remarked. "In fact, I think I've seen kindergarten finger painters with more talent."

I chuckled, despite myself, and took the drawing from her. It really was pretty hideous. "Yeah, he has zero sense of composition," I analyzed. "And his lines are all shaky."

Ms. Reilly looked pointedly at me. "You, on the other hand, I hear, are really good. Mr. Thomas was telling me about the manga sketches you did for him the other day."

I felt my face heat. The art teacher talked about me to the other teachers? "I'm okay, I guess," I replied, recrumpling Billy's stupid drawing. "I mean, it's something I like doing."

"Well, I'd love to see some of your stuff sometime," Ms. Reilly said. "If you don't mind showing me. I really love manga."

I was surprised. Most adults didn't even know what manga was, and if they did, they dismissed it as comic book trash. "Sure, I mean, I guess." I never had anyone to show my drawings to. My friends back in Boston didn't really care and my parents only oohed and ahhed because that's what parents were supposed to do when a child makes an effort to express herself. But Ms. Reilly seemed genuinely interested. Kind of cool.

The teacher leaned forward. "Maddy, I know high school can be a tough time. Especially when you're new. Believe me, I know."

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Aha! I knew this conversation wasn't really about art. "I'm fine," I replied automatically. I so did not want to get into it all with her, no matter how much she appreciated manga.

She sighed. "You're very bright. And creative. And sweet." She reached over and patted me on the arm. "Look, I'm here for you if you want to talk. About anything. And whatever you say to me stays here. In the vault. I won't tell your parents or the principal. I just . . . well, I'm here if you need a friend."

I knew she was trying to help. That she was sincere. But it was just too hard. I mean, what was I supposed to say? Tell her how everyone thought I was a freak and that I had no friends? Yeah, right. I felt tears well up in my eyes and swiped them away.

"Thanks. I ... I mean, that's nice of you. But I'm fine. Really." I shifted in my seat, swallowing back the lump in my throat. "Can I go now?"

She studied me for a moment, her face sad. Why did she care so much? "Yes, you can go now," she said at last. "But my offer remains open, okay? And don't forget--I want to see your art sometime soon."

"Okay." I jumped up from the seat and made a dash for the exit. It was nice of her to offer to talk. But at the end of the day, she was a grown-up. A teacher. She would never understand.

No one would.

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CHAPTER 5

HEY, freak Girl, whatcha doing?"

Lunchtime on Thursday, later that week. I looked up to see Billy and the Haters approach the cafeteria table. I'd deliberately chosen a seat in the very back, away from their crowd, so I could lay low and work on my manga. I was drawing a portrait of Allora, my Gamer Girl. But a seat on Mars wouldn't have been far enough away for Billy. Especially not after Monday's incident in English class.

"Yeah, Freak Girl. Why are you back here by yourself? No friends?" Flanking Billy were the rest of the Haters, of course. Rarely did you see one stray far from the pack. They even took a lot of the same classes. Lucy was dressed in her requisite cheerleading captain's outfit. (I swear she wore it even when they didn't have practice, just for status.) Chelsea had on some kind of filmy pink baby doll dress that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe put together. She came from old money, I'd learned, and liked to tell people that her ancestors came over on the Mayflower, as if that were some big

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accomplishment that automatically made her cool. Because, like, Pilgrim chicks were so the It girls of their time. And then there was Chad.

Yes, yes, I was still sporting that pathetic, hopeless crush on the kid. I knew it was wrong. He was way out of my league and not even really my type. Caitlin would have had a field day if she knew--telling me to go for a skater or something and leave the Aberzombie to the cheerleaders. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't shake the butterflies that danced a disco beat in my stomach every time he came near. Pathetic, but true.

"Hey, Horny, I'm talking to you!" Billy said, as if it weren't obvious. He liked to mix up my nicknames. Horny (because of the unfortunate first-day unicorn shirt), Freak. Vamp was a particular favorite as well, as he would claim there was no way someone who wore as much black as I did didn't turn into a bat and bite people's necks during a full moon. (I once tried to tell him the full moon thing was for werewolves-- dogs like himself--but he didn't get the insult and eventually I just gave up. It went over much better in my manga.)

"Nothing," I muttered, going back to my drawing. Maybe if I ignored them they'd get bored and go away.

Not today, it seemed. "It doesn't look like nothing," noted Lucy. "It looks like you're drawing something."

"Wow. You got me there," I replied, setting down my paintbrush. "You're amazingly perceptive, Lucy."

"Why do the people in your drawings have such big

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eyes?" Chelsea picked up my sketch and gave it a disdainful look. "It's, like, freaky."

"It's Japanese style," I defended, not knowing why I bothered. "That's how they're supposed to look."

"Let me see!" Billy ripped it out of Chelsea's hands. He started laughing. "Wow, you suck, Vamp Girl. And I don't mean blood either."

I'd had enough. "Give it back!" I commanded, rising from my seat to grab my picture. He held it up, beyond my grasp.

"Or what? What are you going to do? Turn me into a toad?" he taunted.

"Please," I begged. "The paint's still wet. You'll smudge it."

The second the words left my mouth I realized I'd made a huge mistake. "Smudge it?" Billy crowed, dragging his fingers down the picture, smearing the art I'd spent hours working on. "I wouldn't want to ... oops!" he said, giving me a totally fake look of horror. "I think I might've--"

"Give it back!" I cried, lunging at him and punching him full in the face. He bellowed like a little girl, fortunately dropping my picture in the process.

Unfortunately, however, drawing the attention of Mr. Wilks, our science teacher, who, unlike Ms. Reilly, had no sense of coolness whatsoever and didn't appreciate teaching weird girls who refused to model H&M during class.

"What is going on here?" Mr. Wilks demanded.

"The crazy Freak Girl hit me!" Billy cried.

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I squeezed my hands into fists, furious and helpless. If I defended myself, we'd just have to go through this again next time Billy caught me alone. It wasn't worth it. Besides, Mr. Wilks was Billy's basketball coach. He thought the kid walked on water. There was no chance in hell he'd believe me over his star.

Sure enough, Mr. Wilks didn't even ask for my side of the story. "Maddy, I don't know about your old school, but here at Hannah Dustin we do not hit our classmates," he clarified, as if I'd been unsure on school policy and had assumed smacking around my fellow students was totally okay with the current administration. "Now go down to the principal's office and explain to him what you did."

I glanced around at the other kids, who'd formed a curious circle around us. I realized no one present was going to defend truth, justice, or the American way. Lucy and Chelsea were smirking in one corner, enjoying the show. Chad stared at his feet, as per usual. There wasn't a soul here who would speak up on my behalf.

"Fine," I retorted, grabbing my comics. I left behind the one Billy had smudged. I'd have to start it all over again anyway. "I'm going."

I made it halfway to the principal's office before bumping into Matt. And I mean literally bumping--like book-dropping and paper-scattering full-on collision. I guess in my rage I hadn't been looking where I was going.

"Whoa, girl, where's the fire?" he asked, bending down to

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pick up my books. I crouched down to join him, trying not to get stepped on as I grabbed errant papers.

"Principal's office," I told him, relating what had just happened.

"Ooh, you punched Billy Henderson?" he cried, standing up and handing me my books. I took them gratefully. "It's about time somebody stood up to the guy. Impressive. Very impressive."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Real impressive. It'll be even more impressive when I get to explain to my mom why I've got detention."

Matt waved a hand. "She's got to understand though. I mean, it's not like Billy didn't start it by destroying your painting. He's such a jerk."

I sighed. "No kidding. I spent so long on it, too. Now I'll have to start all over."

"When's it due?"

"Due?" I cocked my head. "What do you mean?" "Well, I just figured it was like for art class or something." "Oh, no. I'm creating my own manga." Matt raised an eyebrow. "Manga?" "You know, like a Japanese-style graphic novel." "Yeah, I know what they are. I just . . . You're making your own? Like from scratch?" "That's the idea."

"Wow, that's hard-core." He looked impressed.

"Do you read manga?" I asked curiously. It'd be cool to

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find someone here at Hannah Dustin who was into it. Back home my friends and I would hold little impromptu book clubs after school to discuss what we'd read. It started with just Caitlin, Ashley, and me, but then other kids found out about it and would crash our meetings. In fact, it became so popular we'd considered seeing if the school would allow us to form an official club, but then I ended up moving and the idea fell apart.

"Not really, but I'm totally into comic books and have a bookcase full of graphic novels at home."

Huh. Not exactly the same, but close enough. I knew he had friend potential. "Cool," I said. "I like some American comics, too, though I don't know as much about them as I do the Japanese stuff."

"Yeah, well, I'd be happy to bring in some of my favorites if you're interested in checking them out."

"I'd like that. Thanks!"

"There you are!" A tall skinny guy with curly red hair walked up to Matt, hands on his hips. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Matt grinned at him. "Sorry, I was just helping Maddy with her books." He turned back to me. "You all set now?" he asked. "I've got to go. Luke and I are going to the library to play video games. He's figured out a way to hack into the computers and get by the firewalls they set up."

"Cool," I said, smiling at the two of them. Wow. Comic books and video games. Matt and I had a lot in common. I considered telling him about my Fields of Fantasy adventures,

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but I was such a gamer noob, I'd probably sound totally poseurish to real gamers like him and Luke. "I need to get to the principal's office anyway before I get in worse trouble."

"Principal's office?" Luke repeated. "What did you do?"

"She punched out Billy Henderson!" Matt said, pride in his voice. At least someone thought I was cool.

"Well, I didn't exactly--"

Luke looked at me with respect. "Very nice," he said.

"Indeed," Matt said, giving me a wink. "Anyway, we'll catch you later, okay? Hope they take it easy on you."

"Thanks," I said. They turned to walk down the hall. I watched them go. Matt was a nice guy. Not boyfriend material exactly. But definitely a new friend. And we all knew how badly I needed one of those.

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CHAPTER 6

HERE, MOM, you have to sign this," I said, dropping off the detention slip on Grandma's kitchen table that evening after school.

"What is it?" she asked, leaving the stove to pick up the note. Her smile faded as she scanned its contents. "Deten tion? For fighting? Madeline Starr, what's this about?"

I frowned. "Nothing."

"Nothing? A detention is not 'nothing,' young lady. And neither is fighting in school."

Anger welled up inside of me. Of course she'd blame me. She'd never understand that I was provoked and totally justified in my actions. Billy had destroyed my property. My art. Just out of spite. And if I didn't stick up for myself, I was going to be a victim for the rest of the school year.

"It's not my fault the kids who go to that stupid school are all stupid jerks with no stupid lives," I muttered, though I was pretty sure my stupid argument wouldn't hold much water with the momster.

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Sure enough, she set her lips in a frown. "Madeline, you're generalizing again. I'm sure there are many very nice kids that go to Hannah Dustin."

I screwed up my face. "Yeah, right." Moms were so clueless sometimes.

"Did you ever consider that it's your bad attitude that's scaring them off?" Mom asked. "I mean, maybe if you lost the chip on your shoulder--that 'I hate the world' vibe you walk around with . . ."

I squeezed my hands into fists. "I don't hate the world. The world hates me."

"Well, I simply don't believe that, Madeline. Just because they don't dress like you or act like you doesn't mean they aren't nice people."

"It also doesn't mean they are." I mean, if she was going to go with that logic ...

"Well, you'll never know either way, now will you?" Mom said. "Since you're judging people before giving them half a chance."

"Kind of like how you didn't give Dad half a chance?"

Mom's face tightened. I'd struck a low blow. But I was sick of her being so freaking clueless about my situation at school. She had no idea what I had to go through every day. And yet she would, time and time again, insist it was my fault I had no friends. As if I wanted to sit alone at lunch and be picked on when I was just trying to learn.

"Go to your room," she said in an oddly calm voice.

"Fine. Gladly." I ran upstairs, taking the steps two at a

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time, slamming my bedroom door behind me. I threw myself on my bed, tears coming to my eyes and sobs racking my body. It was so unfair. Life used to be great. I had friends, I had a real family that wasn't split apart. Now what was I left with? Nothing but a broken home and a broken life. I didn't even have anything to look forward to. It wouldn't be until college that I'd have even the remotest chance of bonding with another human being.

If only Mom would forgive Dad for whatever it was he did and get back together with him. We could move back to our old neighborhood. I could return to my old school and be with my friends again.

Yeah, right. So not going to happen. Needed to give up on that fantasy, pronto.

After indulging in a few more moments of self-pity, I glanced over at my computer and then at my clock radio by my bed. It was nearly five o'clock. I was supposed to meet Dad in the Elf Tree Cafe. Maybe I'd tell him what happened. After all, he was usually a lot more sympathetic than Mom. Maybe if I asked him really nicely he'd figure out a way to pay for me to re-enroll in my old private school.

So I logged on to Fields of Fantasy and selected my character. Allora smiled gleefully, as if she were happy to see me. At least someone was. Too bad that someone didn't really exist.

I gritted my teeth, determined not to let my frustration ruin the game, and sauntered off to the Elf Tree Cafe. The thatch-roofed bar was cozy and quaint, with wooden benches

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and tables scattered about, bearskin rugs covering the dirt floor, and a roaring fire blazing in a stone hearth. I sat Allora down by the fire and, on a whim, ordered her a mug of beer from one of the big-breasted computerized bartenders, hoping Dad didn't choose that moment to walk in. Though in my defense, the drinking age for elves may very well be different from that of Americans. And the bartender did serve her without asking for an ID.

I scanned the virtual bar for some sign of my father, but he was nowhere to be seen. Getting impatient, I typed in an instant message to RockStarBob. Maybe he was running late, having had to swing by a troubled village to slay a dragon or something. But my message came back as undeliverable. He wasn't online.

I glanced at my watch. Ten past five. Maybe he got stuck at work. I'd hang out a little longer.

By five-thirty I was about ready to give up. RockStarBob had still not logged on. This was great. My own dad standing me up. Just the ending I needed to my already crappy day. It figured. It just figured.

I started to log out of the game, but then reconsidered. He wasn't going to show up? That didn't mean I shouldn't play. Maybe I'd gain a few levels while I was waiting for him. Then when he did get home, he'd be all impressed by my progress. Besides, what else did I have to do while stuck here in my room waiting for Mom to calm down?

So I guided my character out of the bar and through the town until she reached its gates. A burly computerized guard

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standing watch warned Allora that she was not yet powerful enough to venture out into the world on her own, but I ignored him. Probably just a scare tactic to get rid of the noobs. Allora knew three spells. She was a tough girl. She could handle herself. Roar!

Argh! Not three seconds after she'd left the safety of the town, three wolves jumped my poor elf, viciously attacking her, shredding her gown, snapping at her legs. I clicked on her spell book, trying to get off a fire spell to stop them, but they kept interrupting her cast with their snarly, angry bites.

She fell to the ground with a high-pitched scream. Dead.

Luckily since this was just a video game and not real life, her death was only a temporary problem. A moment later, Allora showed up at the town's graveyard, looking all ghostlike. All I had to do, the instructions stated, was run her back to her body and then click a button to resurrect. She'd be as good as new--no big deal.

I did as I was told and sure enough, my pretty elf had soon successfully risen from the dead, just a few feet away from the spot she'd been killed. Problem was, before she could even get her bearings, those nasty, horrible wolves jumped her again, and before I knew it, she was back in the graveyard as a ghost.

I slammed my fist against my desk in frustration, running my hands through my hair. People played this stupid game for fun? It was almost as stressful as school. And a lot more annoying. I tried my dad one more time, praying he'd signed

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on and could give me some help. After all, he was a higher level--the wolves would pose him no threat, right?

He was still off-line. At five forty-five. I hoped he wasn't in some kind of awful car accident or something. But no, that was stupid. He probably just forgot. Forgot about his promise to me, forgot about me in general. I sighed.

Deciding to give it one last try, I ran back from the graveyard and hit Resurrect. Sure enough, the wolves pounced on me. It was as if they'd just been hanging out, all rabid, drooling, waiting for some juicy elfin flesh to rise from the dead so they could devour her all over again.

Just as I was about to give up and die again, one of the wolves uttered a piercing howl of pain and dropped dead at Allora's feet. The other followed a moment later. My mouth dropped open in surprise. Had I done that somehow? Did Allora have some secret power I didn't know about? The power to--?

[SirLeo] Don't worry. I got 'em.

I stared at the screen. Some random player, whose name I didn't recognize, had just instant messaged me. Was he the one who killed the wolves? I moved the game's camera position around with my mouse so I could take a look. Sure enough, "Sir Leo" stood nearby, lounging against a tree. He was a valiant-looking elfin knight with shoulder-length white hair, blue eyes, and a large sword strapped to his back. Yum. He totally looked just like Legolas.

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I realized I should instant message him back and thank him for saving my life.

[Allora] Thanks! They were killing me over and over again!

[SirLeo] LOL. Ibet. They're level five. You're level one. Not exactly a fair fight.

[Allora] Yeah. I guess not!

[SirLeo] You shouldn't even be out here in this area at your level. Didn'tthe guards warn you?

[Allora] Er, they might have. But 1 kind of ignored them.

[SirLeo] Heh. Well, that explains it then. First day playing FoF?

[Allora] Yeah. That obvious, huh?

[SirLeo] It's okay. You're just lucky I was around to save you.

[Allora] Totally. Thank you so much.

I smiled at the screen, even though he obviously couldn't see my real-life reaction. I was lucky indeed. Lucky to run into such a nice guy. After all, he could have just run off, left me to the wolves. But he stopped to help. Game people sure were nicer than real-life people. At least this guy was.

[SirLeo] So do you want me to show you where you should go? Where the mobs are a bit more your level?

[Allora] Er, mobs?

Sir Leo laughs.

[SirLeo] You really are a noob, huh? Mobs are like monsters.

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You get quests from the townspeople to fight them and earn experience and treasure.

[Allora] Ah. Cool. Sorry. My dad got me this game and he said he'd show me how to play, but I don't know where he is. He was supposed to sign on like an hour ago.

[SirLeo] Typical dad, huh? Well, I can show you, if you want. This way when he logs in you'll already be totally 1337.

[Allora] 1337?

[SirLeo] Er, like, leet. Short for elite. LOL. Sorry. I'll try to take it easy on you since it's your first day. But don't worry. You'll be a gamer girl in no time.

[Allora] He-he, ty. I appreciate that.

A gamer girl. I liked the sound of that. I also liked chatting with Sir Leo. It was as if I'd just met a new friend. Something I hadn't managed to do in nearly a month of attending Hannah Dustin, I might add. So glad Dad got me the game for my birthday.

[SirLeo] One rule, though.

[Allora] ?

[SirLeo] Don't think this is dorky, but if we're going to adventure together, we've got to role-play.

[Allora]... Role-play?

[SirLeo] Yea, like, keep in character. Like, you're actually Allora. You need to give her a personality--what she's like, where she comes from, why she's decided to go adventuring, etc.

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[Allora] Oh-kay.

[SirLeo] Hmm. You think I'm a total geek, don't you? ROFL.

[Allora] No! No, not at all. I think it's a kewl idea, actually.

Sir Leo smiles.

[SirLeo] Okay then, let's give it a try.

SirLeo bows.

[SirLeo] Good evening, young maiden. I fear you may be lost in these here woods? Art thou in need of my assistance, mayhap?

[Allora] Aye, good and noble knight. I am fair happy to make your acquaintance. These wolves have gotten the better of me fair self, I fear.

Sir Leo laughs.

[SirLeo] (Not bad, not bad! You've got the hang of it already.)

[Allora] Hang of what, oh, good noble sir?

[SirLeo] (LOL. You're good! But it's okay to talk out of character if you use parentheses like this. Then I'll know it's you in real life saying something and not your elf.)

[Allora] (Ah, good to know.)

Sir Leo smiles.

[SirLeo] M'lady, art thou new around these yonder parts?

[Allora] Aye, good sir. I am a simple elf orphan whose parents were tragically killed when our town was attacked by wolves. And now I seek nothing in life but to avenge their deaths!

[SirLeo] I see. Well, m'lady, I am a brave and noble elfin knight, sent to this land to claim it for my king. And of

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course save all the pretty young elf girls who might need

rescuing.

Allora blushes.

[SirLeo] (Um, by the way, you're really a girl, right? I mean, in real life?)

[Allora] (Heh. May-be. I guess you can't tell, huh?)

[SirLeo] (Nope. Online you can be anyone.)

[Allora] (LOL. Well, yes, I'm really a girl. Are you really a boy?)

[SirLeo] (Yup.)

[Allora] (You're not like ... old ... are you?)

[SirLeo] (Ha-ha. No, I'm sixteen. You?)

[Allora] (Ooh. I'm sixteen, too. Actually I just turned sixteen yesterday.)

[SirLeo] (Really? Happy birthday!!!!!)

[Allora] (He-he, thank you!)

It was so easy to talk to him. Maybe it was the online thing. In real life I was so shy--always worrying that people would judge me when I opened my mouth. But here I could be anyone. Act any way I wanted to. After all, I'd never meet Sir Leo in real life. He probably lived across the country--maybe even across the world.

We chatted a bit more and then I had Allora follow him over to the beginner area, where the monsters were more my level. At first I assumed he'd leave me there and go off to do his own thing, but instead he stayed. And with his help, I was able to gain three levels within fifteen minutes.

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"Maddy, I've been calling you for the last ten minutes! What are you doing in there?"

My mom's voice startled me out of the game. I'd been having so much fun with my new friend online that I'd effectively shut out the real world. But now I heard her footsteps padding up the stairs. Great.

"Nothing, Mom," I answered, crossing my fingers she wouldn't barge in.

But it took a lot more magic than mere finger-crossing to keep the momster out. A moment later she was pushing open the bedroom door--Grandma refused to let me get a lock for it!--and staring disapprovingly at my computer.

"Don't you have homework you should be doing?" she asked. "I don't want you up here playing that . . . game." I caught her taking a quick peek at the screen, probably wondering if I was talking to Dad online. Not that she needed to worry about that. He still hadn't signed on.

"No, I did my homework in detention, Mom."

"Detention. Right." Mom sighed. "Turn off the computer. We've got to have a little talk."

I glanced helplessly back at the screen where Sir Leo had just attacked a pack of wolves, not realizing I'd turned away from the computer to talk to Mom. His life was low and he was calling out for me to help him.

"Hang on, Mom. I have to ..." I turned to the keyboard to finish the fight. I'd save him and then say good-bye. Maybe we could meet later to play more after I got through with Mom.

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But before I could launch my fireball spell, my computer screen turned black. "Wha . . . ?" I cried, confused. Then I realized my mom had walked over and hit the computer's Off switch and was currently standing above me with a self-satisfied look on her face. "Mom! I was right in the middle of-"

"When I say turn off the computer, I mean turn off the computer, not continue to play your game," she admonished, walking over to take a seat on my bed.

"But I was helping my friend!" My stomach churned in panic as I stared at the blank screen. This was terrible. Sir Leo had been so nice to me and I'd just up and disappeared without even saying good-bye. The wolves probably killed him and it was all my fault. Great. Now he was never going to want to play with me again. Not that I blamed him. "Can I just log back in and tell him--?"

"No. I came up here to talk to you and I need your full attention," Mom said. "If you're going to become this addicted to the game, I'll take it away altogether."

I swallowed hard, knowing she was perfectly able to make good on the threat.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I'm listening."

Mom nodded. "Look, Maddy. I'm sorry I blew up earlier. When you mentioned your father . . . well, it's a sore subject, as you can imagine."

I stared down at my hands. "Yeah. I know. I shouldn't have said that."

"Sweetie, I know your father and me separating and your

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having to switch schools has been really tough on you. It has for all of us. But you can't let it turn you into someone you're not. You're a wonderful girl. Beautiful, smart, creative. Yet all I see these days is someone who's mad at the world and wants revenge. You just can't go around punching other kids, no matter how angry you are at your father."

Argh. I squeezed my hands into fists. So, like everything else, she was going to blame this on Dad. "I'm not angry at Dad," I informed her. "I'm angry at Billy."

"Billy? Who's Billy?" demanded Mom, obviously baffled that anyone could be mad at anyone else in the entire world besides my father.

"The kid I hit, Mom. Try to keep up." I knew I was being bratty, but I couldn't help it. "He destroyed my drawing on purpose. He's a total jerk."

"Why would he destroy your drawing?" She sounded confused. Of course.

"Because he's trying to make my life a living hell." I squeezed my hands into fists. "You want to know the truth, Mom? No one likes me at school. They all think I'm a freak."

Mom gave my black-dress and black-and-white-striped-tights outfit a look. "Well, I did warn you about dressing that way. . . ."

"Oh, I see. So it's all my fault."

Mom sighed. "No, of course not. But you go to a smaller school now. And kids aren't going to be as diverse as in Boston. But that doesn't mean they're bad people. You've just got to give them a chance. Get to know them. Let them

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know you. You're a wonderful, beautiful girl. I'm sure in time the other kids will realize that."

"I want to go back to my old school. In Boston."

Mom slumped her shoulders. "Maddy, you know we can't do that. I can't afford it."

"If you just got back together with Dad--"

"Maddy, we've had this discussion."

I wanted to press her further, but I knew it would do no good. "Fine," I relented. "I promise to work harder to make friends. And I won't fight and . . . stuff." I knew my promises sounded flimsy and lame, but I'd say anything at that moment to get out of the lecture.

Mom stared at me for a moment, then shook her head. "Let's talk about this later when we're both less upset, okay?" she said. "It's dinnertime anyway. Grandma cooked a lovely pot roast and I've made my famous green bean casserole."

I glanced longingly back at the computer, wanting nothing more than to log back into the game to find Sir Leo and explain what happened. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was some total flake who got his character killed. After all, he was my first new friend in forever, even if he was virtual, and I wanted to play with him as much as possible.

But Mom had put the smack down and I knew better than to cross her. Better to let her win this round and get back on her good side--even if that did mean digesting Grandma's cooking.

"Pot roast?" I said, smiling my widest, fake smile. "Sounds delish. Let's eat!"

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CHAPTER 7

GETTING THREE days of detention sucked. Having detention fall on a Friday sucked worse. Not that I had a hot date or anything. Though I was anxious to get home to log into Fields of Fantasy. I wanted to find Sir Leo online and beg his forgiveness for abandoning him to the wolves the night before.

But I had no choice and so on Friday I sat in Mr. Wilks's otherwise empty classroom, watching the clock tick down the minutes to my freedom. I was supposed to be doing homework, but I just didn't have the energy. And Mr. Wilks made it clear there would be no drawing during detention, so I couldn't even work on my manga.

"Um, Maddy?"

I looked up and my eyes widened as I realized that none other than Chad Murray had walked up to my desk and was actually calling me by name. How did I not notice the god himself wandering into the room? And how did he know my

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name anyway? I thought I was permanently "Freak Girl" to the Haters.

My heart skipped a beat. He was dressed in a gray T-shirt and a pair of slouchy jeans. He looked gorgeous as always. I mean, if you were into that sort of thing. Which I wasn't. Well, okay, fine, I was still a girl at the end of the day and it was hard not to notice, but it really didn't matter, did it? Chad was one of the Haters. The ones responsible for sticking me in detention to begin with. This Billy lackey was not a guy to have a crush on.

"What do you want?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes. "Come to keep me company?" The sarcasm dripped from my voice. So much for my promise to Mom to be nicer and make friends.

Chad took a step back, as if struck. "Um, nothing, really. It's just . . ." He reached into his book bag and pulled out a piece of paper. He held it out to me. "You left this in the cafeteria."

I looked down at the paper. It was my drawing. The one Billy had destroyed.

"What do I want this for?" I asked. "It's ruined. Your friend Billy made sure of that." Against my better judgment, I smoothed the paper out on my desk, looking at it longingly. My Gamer Girl, Allora, smiled back up at me through the crinkles and paint smears. It had been such a good sketch. . . .

"Right." He shuffled from foot to foot. "But I thought

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maybe ... I don't know . . . you could, like, copy it or something. If you wanted. Then maybe it wouldn't be a total loss."

"Oh." I looked up at him, surprised by the gesture. He really was a lot nicer than his friends. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. Thanks."

"No prob," he said, still standing there, awkwardly. He paused, then added, "Sorry about Billy. He can be a real jerk sometimes."

"Yeah, just like the rest of the Haters," I muttered, putting the drawing in my bag. "Haters?"

I blushed. Hadn't meant for him to hear me. "Oh, just a nickname I have for your crew," I explained. "The Haters. You know, since you hate most of the school."

Chad laughed appreciatively. "The Haters," he repeated. "That's funny. And probably pretty accurate, too. I mean, at least for Billy and the girls."

I looked at him skeptically. "And you're different?"

Now it was his turn to blush. "Well, yeah. I mean, I don't mess with people like they do. I hate that kind of thing. I'm more of a live-and-let-live kind of guy."

"So why do you hang with them then?"

He shrugged and looked embarrassed. "I don't know. Billy's been my best friend since kindergarten. I can't just ditch him."

"Right." That made sense. In fact, in a weird way, it was kind of like Caitlin and me. We'd been best friends forever,

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and when she'd jeer at the Aberzombies and poseurs back at our old school, I'd always laugh, even though sometimes I felt bad for them. Now the tables were turned. Maybe Chad and I were more alike than I realized.

I realized he was still staring at me. "Uh ..." I tilted my head. "Did you want. . . something else?"

"Actually, yeah," he said. He shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out another piece of paper. He unfolded it and dropped it on my desk. "I, um, found this in a magazine. I thought, well, your drawings are really good, maybe you'd like to enter or something."

I stared down at the paper. It was a contest for young artists who wrote and drew manga. My eyes widened as I read the rules. Create an original graphic novel and send it in. First prize was publication and ten thousand dollars.

So cool. A chance to have my drawings seen and graded by a professional editor. And if I won--actual publication! My story would be published in a manga magazine. How cool would that be?

Not to mention the cash prize. Ten thousand dollars would be enough for tuition back at my old school. I could go back to my friends and never think of Hannah Dustin High School ever again!

"Thanks," I said, my eyes shining, putting aside for a moment that the contest entry form had been hand delivered by Billy's lackey. "This is really cool."

"No prob," he said with a self-conscious shrug. He ran a hand through his beautiful wavy blond hair. "You should

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definitely enter. You're really good. The elf totally reminds me of--"

"Chad! Let's go!"

Chad froze in his tracks at Billy's command from out in the hallway. He shot me an apologetic look and backed away.

"Anyway," he said. "I'll, um, see you around."

And with that, he turned tail and ran. I watched him go, shaking my head. Such a waste of cuteness. It was nice of him to tell me about the contest, though. And he said he liked my drawing. That was cool.

But at the end of the day, I knew, none of that mattered. He was and would always be one of the Haters. And thus, would always be the enemy.

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CHAPTER 8

I ARRIVED home from detention to a wild, raging party. Okay, it was a wild, raging slumber party for eight-year-olds, but still, the noise level alone should have gotten the cops to the door. Emily and ten other giggling girls were taking up the entire living room, watching a Disney film on Grandma's ancient television. There was a sick amount of food strewn everywhere--pizza, chips, M&M's, chocolate cupcakes. Enough to make all of them go into cardiac sugar shock. Something I hoped happened sooner rather than later so I didn't have to hear the giggles at two a.m. when I was trying to sleep.

"Um, hi, guys," I greeted as I walked into the room. "Having fun?"

Instantly, I had twenty-two eyes fixed on me. They ranged from curious to suspicious to downright annoyed. Emily paused the movie, jumped up from her seat, and marched straight over to me. She folded her skinny little arms across her chest and glared at me with her ice-blue eyes.

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"Mom said you would stay in your room and wouldn't disturb us," she informed me. "Don't make me call her downstairs to remind you."

Nice. After a long day at school and detention, I got to come home and get pushed around by an eight-year-old. "Uh, sure, Em," I retorted, refusing to let her get the best of me. "But let's look at the house layout here for a moment. You see, I have to pass through this room to get to my room. . . ." I paused then added, "I hope that my momentary presence doesn't screw up Your Highness's evening too greatly."

Emily scowled, looking as annoyed as if I had told her I was planning to plop down on the couch and spend the next five hours sharing stories about her thumb-sucking years with all her friends. "Fine. Make it quick," she said, storming back to her seat and grabbing the remote control. She pressed Play and turned up the volume to a nearly deafening level.

Unfortunately the volume didn't drown out the giggles of the other party princesses. Nor did it prevent me from hearing their whispers as I passed through the room, stepping over bowls of popcorn and bags of makeup.

"What's she doing here?"

"Yeah, it's Friday night, way after school. And she's, like, old. Doesn't she have a date or something?" "Look at her. Who would date her?" "Dracula?"

"Ooh, ooh, what about Frankenstein?" Ah, to be judged uncool by a bunch of kids who watched SpongeBob SquarePants on a daily basis. Not that they were far

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off the mark. Though I wasn't sure at this point whether even Frankenstein's monster would consider me a worthy date.

I paused at the other end of the room before heading upstairs. "Have fun," I said in an overly sweet voice. "And don't eat too much or you'll all grow enormously fat and have faces full of zits."

The girls all screamed and gasped.

"Get OUT!" Emily cried, throwing a pillow at me. I easily dodged it and ran upstairs, feeling the tiniest bit better. I entered my room, shut my door, and turned up my stereo, blasting My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade album. I'd heard it a gazillion times, but I still loved Gerard's passionate voice. It was as if he totally understood all my pain. If only he went to Hannah Dustin. We'd be soul mates, for sure.

I threw myself down on my bed, exhausted and annoyed. My eight-year-old sister had a full social life and I was a total outcast. So not fair. How did she find it so easy to fit in? To make friends? She would be one of the Haters someday, most likely. Ruling her school with her haughty glare, ridiculing poor innocent people like me for breathing the same air she did.

I glanced over at my computer. Maybe Sir Leo was online. I owed him a major apology after Mom pulled the plug on the game last night. After all, he was the closest thing I had to a developing friendship. I didn't want to lose that.

So I logged on. A few moments later, my character, Allora, smiled up at me. I smiled back at her. "Ready?" I whispered, though of course she couldn't hear me. "Let's go play."

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I realized my hands were trembling as I typed in "FIND SIRLEO." I tried to steady them, annoyed. After all, I didn't even know this guy. I'd played with him once. I might never run into him again. And if I did, he would probably be annoyed at me for abandoning him anyway.

CHARACTER NOT ONLINE

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Of course he wasn't online. It was Friday night. He was probably on a date with some hot chick who, in real life, looked like my Allora character--not even giving the video game or me a second thought. Virtual life might be all I had to keep me sane, but that didn't mean Sir Leo was as big a loser as I was.

Dad evidently had more of a life than I did as well, as he was not logged on either. So I decided to take Allora adventuring by herself. We headed over to the easy section, where the beginner quests were, and started attacking monsters with her firebombs. It didn't take long until I'd gained another level and was able to get some new, tougher armor and a more powerful magic wand. I also got a new spell--a sort of ice-shield thing that would help protect me. Pretty soon I was strong enough to head out of the town's gates and attack those wolves that had kicked my butt the day before.

"Whoo-hoo!" I cheered as my firebomb blasted them dead. "You go, Allora!"

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[SirLeo] Well done, m'lady. I see that the wolves are no longer a trouble to thee.

My heart fluttered with excitement as I read the message sent from Sir Leo. He must have just logged on. Squee!

[Allora] Why, yes. I have been busy learning some powerful new spells to combat the evil wolves that once caused me so much pain.

[SirLeo] I am impressed. Perhaps you would care to join me on a further adventure? There is a small dragon in yonder cave that has been hoarding much treasure. We could slay it and then split the reward.

[Allora] That sounds like a most excellent plan.

[Allora] (By the way, I'm sorry about last night. Mom switched off my computer before I could stop her. Sooo annoying.)

[SirLeo] (Ah, I was wondering what happened to you. I was worried that I'd been boring you to death and you faked a disconnect in order to get rid of me.)

I grimaced. Stupid Mom.

[Allora] (LOL. I've got better manners than that.)

[SirLeo] (So, what, you'd just tell me I was totally boring and I should go away?)

[Allora] (Don't be totally boring and you'll never find out.)

[SirLeo] (LOL. I will do my best!)

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Wow. I was flirting. Actually flirting. It wasn't actually so hard to do, safe at home, with a sexy elf as my cover. In real life I'd never be able to talk to a boy like that, but since Sir Leo probably lived on the other side of the country, I had nothing to lose.

[SirLeo] Follow me, my fair and beautiful maiden, and I shall lead thee to thy quest .

I blushed a little at his words. I knew we were just role-playing and that he was keeping in character, but I liked how he flirted back with me all the same. What if he knew how different I looked in real life? Would he be totally turned off? Probably. Which sucked, actually. I wanted him to like me for the real me, not some fake-o virtual character. But that was stupid and unrealistic. I had to take this for what it was and not get too attached.

[Allora] (Now let's see how long we can play before Mom shows up and starts yelling at me again. If I disappear suddenly, don't take it personally, okay?)

[SirLeo] (LOL! No prob. I know how parents are, trust me.)

[Allora] (Well, my mom used to be okay, before the Big D.)

[SirLeo] (Ah, I went through that two years ago. My mom met this other guy. It was really horrible for a while. All the yelling and screaming. I was almost glad when she moved out and it was just me and Dad again.)

[Allora] (Oh, yeah, the yelling sucks. I remember all I

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wanted to do sometimes was run up to my room and throw the pillows over my head. You know, to drown it all out?)

[SirLeo] (That's how I first got into this game. I could lock myself in my room and play and no one would bug me.)

[Allora] (Makes sense.)

[SirLeo] (Anyway, hang in there. It does get easier.)

[Allora] (Yeah. Well, you obviously didn't have to switch schools.)

[SirLeo] (Oh. You did? That's rough. Though, in a way it must be nice.)

[Allora] ???

[SirLeo] (Well, you get to start over. You can be whoever you wantto be. And you get to pick brand-new friends. Anyway, we're at the dragon's cave.)

We found the dragon and between my spells and Sir Leo's sword fighting we totally kicked its scaly butt. As it lay down to die, taking its last fiery breath, Sir Leo gave Allora a big congratulatory hug. Even though it was only a virtual squeeze, I got real-life tingles.

[SirLeo] A most excellent fight, m'lady. Would you like to discover what treasure the dragon has hiding in yonder chest?

[Allora] Oh, yeah!

Allora opens chest.

[Allora] There's a wand in here. A really good one! And a few gems.

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SirLeo bows.

[SirLeo] All yours.

[Allora] Are you sure? I mean, I know you can't use the wand. But these gems...

[SirLeo] Please, m'lady, do not insult this knight's honor by refusing his gifts.

[Allora] Cool--I mean ... lovely. Thank you, good sir knight.

[SirLeo] Now let us take the dragon's head and bring it back to the village, where they are sure to reward our brave deeds.

We started the run back to the village. I swapped out my old crappy wand for the new one I had just gotten from the chest. It had a blue glowing end to it, which totally matched Allora's eyes, not that I was all into elf fashion or anything.

[Allora] (So how come you're home on a Friday night?)

[SirLeo] (I was out earlier, but I have drama practice

tomorrow, so I wanted to get a good night's sleep.)

[Allora] (Ah, cool.)

[SirLeo] (How come you're home?)

[Allora] (Oh, uh, I'm not feeling well. So I didn't want to overdo it.)

Okay, so that was a lie. But I didn't want him to think I was some total loser with no friends to hang out with on a Friday night.

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Sir Leo frowns.

[SirLeo] I am deeply sorry to hear you are unwell, m'lady.

Let us stop at yonder inn and ask the barmaid for some

chicken soup before we turn in the quest. Perhaps it will

make you feel better.

Allora smiles.

[Allora] Sounds like a plan.

[Allora] Er, I mean that seems like a grand idea, good sir. Sir Leo laughs.

Yup. A grand idea, indeed. I was feeling better already! I had half a mind to march downstairs and tell those annoying little munchkins that I had a Friday night date after all.

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CHAPTER 9

M ADDY, GET up!"

I groaned and pulled the covers over my head. "Five more minutes, Mom."

Mom grabbed the blanket and dragged it off my body. "No. You get up now. Your father will be here in fifteen minutes to take you and Emily to Boston." She looked down at me, an annoyed look on her face. "Why are you so tired, anyway? How late did you stay up last night playing that video game?"

I'd stayed up way too late. Like one-in-the-morning late. But I wasn't about to let her know that. "I don't know. Like . . . nine?" I mumbled.

"Then you should have no problem getting up." Mom headed to the door. "And no falling back asleep once I leave the room either."

I reluctantly sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. My head felt foggy, my stomach growled. Even my fingers were sore from hours of typing with Sir Leo. And now, instead of getting to

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sleep in like a normal high schooler on a Saturday morning, I had to get up at the crack of dawn to go visit my dad.

Not that I minded visiting. It meant a weekend back in Boston, in his new apartment. But we always had fun and there was a possibility I'd get to see my friends, too.

Still, the seven a.m. wake-up call was a bit rough. . . .

I forced myself out of bed, glancing longingly at the computer as I passed it on the way to the bathroom. I had such a good time playing last night. Fighting "mobs," completing quests, joking around with Sir Leo--it was awesome. So weird how you could have the best night of your life hanging out with a complete stranger in a virtual world.

When it was finally time to log off and say good night, we'd gone into the Elf Tree Inn. There was only one bed, so Sir Leo gallantly offered it to me and said he would sleep on the floor. Just like a real chivalrous knight! He even blew me a kiss right before he logged off, which let's just say got my real-life heartbeat up quite a bit.

I brushed my teeth and slipped on a black skirt and sweater with black tights and Chinese slippers. Then I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs, just in time for Dad to walk through the door. He gave me a big bear hug and then turned to Emily, who squirmed and protested he was messing up her hair. My mother hovered in the archway, looking annoyed.

"Hello, Denise," Dad said to her.

"Hello, Bob," she returned in a cold voice.

They used to be so happy together. I remembered sneaking

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downstairs late at night when I was younger and catching them making out on the couch. Or Dad would be telling some silly joke and Mom would be practically rolling on the floor she was laughing so hard. We'd go on family vacations to the mountains in New Hampshire. Dad would catch us fish and Mom would cook them on the camp stove.

"Hey, how about we all go out for breakfast?" Emily suggested in a bright voice. Poor kid. Still unclear on the concept of divorce. "I'd really love some pancakes. Wouldn't you, Mom?"

Mom shook her head. "I've got a busy day ahead of me, Em. Maybe your father will take you." She started to turn to walk away.

"Aw, come on, Denise," Dad called after her. "You can follow me in your car and we'll meet in the IHOP parking lot." He grinned his goofy dad grin. "You can't be too busy for apple pancakes, can you?"

Mom stiffened. "Yes, Bob. Actually I can be. And, in fact, I am. Some of us wo