Cassidy POV

Beep beep, beep beep. 7:30 a.m. 

Five more min-, "Holy granola bars. I'm gonna be late." I rolled out of bed and slid into my bathroom. I am so happy that I have a bathroom in my room, or I would be late very often. I have the whole third floor to myself. That includes a bedroom, a bathroom, a walk-in closet, a game room, and a library, and it's all mine. Now don't get me wrong, I am not a rich girl who thinks she's above everyone else. In fact, I am surprised that I even have a quarter of this stuff. When I was younger, I would get picked on for being a dragon demon. I had black hair and a rare trait for dragon kind, two-colored eyes. We had to move when I was 5 because I got fed up with their shenanigans and lit a kid on fire. Then I pulled the fire alarm to put him out. Looking back, that was so dumb it's funny. I am an only child, and I have lived here in Jettson for 10 years.

I get out of the shower, glance at the outfit laid out the previous night, throw it on, and take the railing downstairs. You can't even be mad. I'm not going to take the time to walk down the stairs when I could glide down. When I arrive, there is a note saying that mom and dad won't be home till later, so I grab a blueberry pancake made by Mrs. Hana Grace, our Japanese-American housemaid, and run out the door. It would probably be safer to walk or drive from my house, but the paparazzi won't bombard me, my family, or my friends with questions until a big event. They learned their lesson last time after a neighbor reported a stalker with a camera. Apparently, a cameraman taking pictures of us spread rumors and leaked photos because I wouldn't sign his cast. I wanted to, but I was late for a recorded performance already. So when my dad found out, he roasted him, and we had him for dinner. Just kidding. He sued him, and the man's sentence is 6 years.

Anyway, I run out the door and spread my wings. It is so much faster to fly than to walk or drive, but walking or driving is the safer bet because I can easily blend in with other people. I make it to class just in time before the bell rings the second time. A couple seconds later, this boy that I have seen around the school literally skates across the room and into his seat. The teacher doesn't even flinch. My friend Mya Kendrick catches me staring and taps me on the shoulder. "I heard he is bad news. Even the teachers are scared of him. He is kinda cute, though." I blush furiously, and Mya starts cackling. "Miss Kendrick, is there a problem?" our teacher asks her. "No, sir. I just thought that ELA should stand for Extra Long Apathy instead of English Language Arts." The teacher smirks and says, "The fact that you know what ELA stands for and the fact that you used the word 'apathy' shows that this class is worth taking."

Now it's Mya's turn to blush and my turn to laugh. I turn my attention back towards the boy and give him a quick look. He is sorta good-looking. Blonde hair with red tips, skin kissed by the sun, and the ocean and sky melded together in his eyes. He had a scar, although mostly faded, over his right eye. "How did he get the scar?" I whisper. Mya looked at me and grinned deviously. "Some say that he was thrown out of a window at his old school. Others say he did it to look cool. I think that he saved someone's life and got injured, But no one has bothered to ask." I look back toward the front as class starts. As usual, ELA was boring. The bell rang for the next class, and surprisingly the cutie- I mean boy, was in my Math class. He was late by five minutes, though, and then he tripped over the mop the janitor left propped on the wall after class. He also happened to be in my Science class. Our teacher, Mr. Kidd, lives up to his name because last week it was paper airplanes for studying aerodynamics. Today it's models of volcanoes.

My eyes wander over to the boy again while I pour baking soda into my model. He looks like he's dozing off. Wait. He still is pouring the vinegar into his model when it explodes all over him. He grimaces, raises his hand, and exits the room. Someone whispers, "That's what happens when you don't pay attention.", and another laughs hysterically. They don't even know him, and they make comments like that. Wow. I wonder if someone did that to them, what they would do. I don't see Anonymous for the rest of the class. I am starting to think we have the same schedule. I know Japanese Honors is canceled because my mom and Mrs. Hoi are best friends, so I head to the library to read the new edition of Manga Masters: Repairing the Pages.

I relax a bit and settle into my seat. In my Mid-stage (the stage in the middle of Camo and Origin), my hair is red, my horns are gold but not fully grown, and my tail is red. Unlike most dragons, my wings are furry at the top, and the color cascades from black to blood red. But in dragon form, I am neither black nor red. See, dragons have two different skins, one that's comfortable in Mid-stage and one for a complete transformation. In my Origin, my skin/ scales are purple and gold. Anyway, I look up at the clock, only to see a shadow dart behind the bookshelf. Crap, if I have to send someone to the depths of hell... I hate the feeling of being watched, but my suspicions soon come to an end when Anonymous walks from that direction a few seconds later and walks toward the front to the "T" sector, Art, Military section. I watch him until he checks out the book at the front desk, then I feel a tap on the shoulder. "Close your mouth, wipe the drool, and stop staring." I do as I'm told till I realize what has just occurred. I whip around and see my best friend, Julien Rivers, standing behind me with a smirk. I swat him and pout because what else am I supposed to do? I once again look at the clock and see that I still have some time before my next class. I get up, and Julien follows, then we head toward our respective changing areas, change, meet back up, and scramble to the gym, where we stretch for today's activity.

Ten minutes pass and the teacher comes in. Mr. O'Reilly is not only very popular with 70% of the moms that come through the building to pick up their children but is also very popular with the girls that take his class. I shiver as most of the girls either faint or drool as he walks by them. Ew. He is old enough to be our dad. But what really irks me is that as I stand up from stretching, Mr. Medium Rare walks up to me and tries to wrap his arm around my waist. I promise you, I have never seen Julien react faster. Within five seconds, his spiked tail is pointed at Thomas's throat. "Woah, Hotshot. Call off your dog," he sneers. I am about to tell Julien to go ahead and do what he wants when I see Mr. O'Rilley walking over. Julien reverts back to Camo and walks away. He is like my older brother sometimes, and I love him for it.

Thomas looks away with pure amusement written all over his smug mug. Hey, that rhymes! No time to be impressed by myself because Mr. O'Riley tells Thomas to get some balls. Someone should inform him! Find some Thomas, and maybe people will respect you and not wanna slowly torture you. A moment passes and Thomas comes back with the entire cart. The dude can't follow basic instructions. Wait, why does he have a smirk on his face? Oh, no. I follow his gaze to see who his next oblivious victim is. OMG, his prey is Anonymous.