Chapter One

Aiden Blake – Unintended, Unattended

“I never intended on making this a personal battle. There are many things I didn’t intend on this year, but this one ended up making the list of things that changed my senior year for the worse.” – Aiden Blake of Howlett High School

The most major development at Howlett High School must’ve been the catalyst that brought about a series of events that could only be described as catastrophic. Well, there are many words that could describe it, but one word is really enough in this instance.
It was the beginning of April, and my third period class was Mrs. Lucas’s English class, and so it was every odd day wherein 1st period rung in the day for those that couldn’t bear waking up at an ungodly hour for a zero period class. I could not bear it, however, starting my day at 8, so I came in at 11:00 today.
I also had an economics class at the beginning of the day, but that was even period, and that is another story. Let’s just say I try to miss Sgt. Witless and his classes of monotone lecturing at every chance.
Today I walked to my class an hour late with a forged doctor’s excuse and found half of the class sitting in the hallway in front of the class. I hesitantly walked into the huddle and looked into the classroom, thinking that perhaps the rest of the class were in there with Mrs. Lucas. They weren’t.
I didn’t want to risk now being more than an hour late if she did come into class, so I rested against a pillar a bit away from the class, as I usually did. I took a drag on a clove and looked at the student in front of me – Thian Ulrich.
“I bet we won’t be getting into class this period. You’re lucky you came late today, Aiden.”
Thian Ulrich is the one person in my humanities classes I talk to about more than my misadventures with garlic Pam spray and pot brownies.
“I had a doctor’s excuse,” I said.
“Oh well, what a waste that you won’t be able to use it,” Thian said. “Come on, you can use it to get into 5th period late. Let’s go get some coffee.”
“Ooh, let’s do that! I could really go for a venti iced coffee with one ounce vanilla and seven ounces of hazelnut!”
“You want them to hate you?” Thian asked.
“They already do!’ I said. If only he knew what I got up to…
With at least 40 minutes before the period ended, we walked to my car (since I was the designated driver during the daytime. What happened at night was another story.
Now, Thian is one of the few people I know to already have some sort of musical intelligence, but it is still my sworn duty (as it is with my other friends) to corrupt what might be thought of as incorruptible, so I put Peaches on the iPod. Because I’m spoiled, it plays throughout my car at full blast.
“What’s this?” asked Thian.
“Peaches.”
“Oh,” he said. I pulled the car out of the parking lot and we drove to the nearest Starbucks on a street with at least 3 Starbucks within 5 minutes driving distance.
I pulled my Puma messenger bag out of the car after me, while Thian put on a backpack. “Do you want something?”
“I’m getting a caramel macchiato.”
“Okay.”
Some Damien Rice song was playing when we got into the Starbucks. “Ooh, the Blower’s Daughter!” said Thian. He knew the name of the song? Now I knew that it was my duty to corrupt him, most of all, at least as far as musically intelligent people came.
“I need to teach you my ways,” I said. “Lesson one: don’t listen to anything you can listen to in a Starbucks.”
“Okay,” he said hesitantly. He would be malleable to my will.
It was surprising to walk into Starbucks at 11 AM to find several students from Howlett skiving and drinking coffees and their blended mocha Frappuccinos. We ordered our drinks, picked them up, and sat down with one of Thian’s friends, Marcus Keller, or Marky. Marky, who was best described as a nymphomaniac who knew nothing of what it is to be a nymphomaniac, held out his left hand. It’s sometimes said that was his only free hand. In other words, his right hand is conjoined with his dick.
“Hey,” Marky said. I made a purposeful show of not taking his hand. I noticed Thian was not nearly as discriminating.
“Would you like to touch my penis?” asked Thian. I gasped. After all this time, I knew I was right! Thian was a flaming fag!
Marky instead forced Thian against the wall and started dry-humping him forcefully, issuing moans of pleasure.
“Are we wreaking havoc on Mr. Miller’s class today?”
“I think I’ll be coming in late,” said Thian. Marky grinned impishly.
“How better to make an entrance!” Marky said. His voice made a change for the dramatic. “Bismillah, no, we will not let you go!” Thian and Marky then rejoiced in an over the top rendition of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody.
After which, we were all kicked out of the Starbucks until we could control ourselves. We decided instead to sit outside.
“I knew it! I absolutely knew it!” My mind was racing. Him and Marky. Not that I thought it was a match made in heaven, or even in Charlene Shine’s living room, but whatever floated their Gay Pride Parade float.
“Knew what?” asked Marky. The sly devil…
“I knew Thian had to be gay!”
“Is your Gaydar going haywire?” asked Thian.
“My Homosexual Homing Device has never failed me.”
“Think whatever you’d like,” said Thian. Marky looked at me inquisitively, or at least I thought it looked inquisitive.
“Thian Ulrich!” shrieked someone in the direction of the parking lot. “Oh my god, is it you, Aiden?”
Oh-Em-Gee! “Charli Shine!” I ran up to hug the only senior girl I hugged more than 5 times without getting a response of “Ew, the cookie monster!” That might actually be a result of having an abnormal amount of body hair. That might have something to do with being Persian on my mom’s side.
And look who she dragged along with her – Leona Held, the girl who made a fashion statement out of being quirky, nerdish, and the epitome of what we, as the Northwood Nocturnal Ninja Society, were on the inside, and she was, through and through.
“We knew we’d find you here,” said Leona. “You know how your 3rd period English class never started?”
I nodded.
“There’s something you’ve got to know,” said Leona.

High School Drama Queens Reich!

It is an interminable game of good cop, bad cop on the high school battlefield, when two ex-friends, now vengeful foes use their ingenious machinations to turn friends against each other, in what they deem as a battle for good over evil. Yet their honest intentions turn them into those they tried to bring to justice. Eventually they turn everyone against themselves and their salvation is accepting each other. This is the material that LiveJournal bloggers dream of and the lives of the two high school seniors, as they attempt to offset each other in order to swell their ranks.
It is Thian Ulrich who dreams of getting the girl - and the gig in the band that would surely gain her approval - versus Aiden Blake, a man with a plan that goes beyond anything that Scott comprehends. Plus, Marcus has a secret, one he is unwilling to let out, by any means necessary.