Undercover Badge; Next Generation

Chapter One

Chapter one;

The nightmares started up again.

This had, of course, lead to the massive headache jack hammering my eyeballs via lack of sleep. The deprivation of my much needed midnight rendezvous with Morpheus caused my bedraggled state, my mismatched socks and half-assed attempt at getting dressed. The eternal punishment bordered on heinous by way of high school. I was lying on my own folded arms while sitting at a picnic table and I had no idea what the hell was going on in my own head.

My long and eternally curly hair, a natural platinum blonde, was fanned out over my arms and my shoulders and ended at its typical spot about two inches above my last rib. My head really hurt.

My attempt at clothing included a thin hooded grey sweatshirt that was four sizes too big on account of it belonging to my father, a pair of tight black jeans and my feet shoved into a pair of brown leather cowboy boots. My brown leather messenger bag was on the table next to me, its strap loosely lying on my shoulder. I'd never been the queen of fashion, but this had to be a new level. But all of this was totally insignificant, because it all came from the damn nightmares.

A familiar weight rested around my neck on a silver chain, and it comforted me, the gem on its end resting between my breasts.

"Oh my God, Reena." a nasally voice - which I associated with the group of females that hated me - sneered behind me. To be honest, one Barbie blended into the other, and I barely differentiated between them anymore. "You're, like, a total hobo, I mean have some class!"

I raised a hand and twirled my fingers in a sarcastically polite wave. "Always good to hear from you, Thing One." I muttered monotonously without raising my head. Thick, black rimmed glasses were sliding down my thin nasal bridge. With my platinum hair and pale skin, hazel green eyes were my only saving grace from severe stereotype.

I wasn't entirely sure why they all hated me. I actually qualified for cheerleadership; I was blonde, I'd done gymnastics for two years. But then I supposed my IQ exceeded the limit they set themselves, my sarcasm was perhaps too sharp and my glasses in direct violation of the code. I wasn't the number one target on their extensive high school hit list, but whenever one of them found themselves with some time to spare, I was their darling pro-bono case.

"Alright, Babe. Up you get." a sugary voice said warmly from my right. I groaned. "Come on, Reena." a thud met the table. I raised my head, and platinum hair fell in a sheet in front of my face. I pushed it back slowly with one hand and turned my skull, popping it up in the palm of my left hand. I was left squinting at Ingrid, the only person in Blue Grove High School that gave a rat's ass if I lived or died.

"Here, I got you coffee." she said and indicated the Starbucks cup. I frowned. "Dude, you know I don't drink coffee. Caffeine. Bad for you." I said flatly.

"Uhm, health nut, can I just tell you; I got you filter coffee, no sugar, no milk, black like death and the bags under your eyes." she said back. Ingrid had black hair that hung just past her shoulders and dark eyes that were constantly made up. She was petit and short with a loud laugh and an even louder personality that somehow seemed to make me not hate the world.

She hauled an oversized leopard print tote onto the table - the bag where she kept her pieces and paints for her art class - then sat down and stared at me imploringly. Her tanned cheeks were rosy from the cold. "Babe. Just drink your frickin' coffee."

With a shaking hand, I reached for the cup, pulled it up and gulped half of it down. It seared my tongue, scorched my throat and made my taste buds recoil in horror. As I sipped the drink, I gripped the green teardrop that hung on the end of my chain. Coffee wouldn't help with the nightmares, coffee wouldn't keep me truly awake.

An almost metallic sounding, high pitched and reverberating thwang reached my ears as a basket ball slammed down onto the picnic table with massive force right next to my left elbow. Had my motor skills been up to par, I'd have jumped. But, as my reflexes seemed indefinitely slowed -another nightmare induced reaction- I could only stare at the place the ball had struck with mild disinterest. Ingrid shrieked in surprise before I searched for its source.

The Jackass Brigade, really just the pawns of the cheerleaders, were gathered. The football team thought they were cool and, admittedly, in high school they were.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Ingrid shrieked, glaring at their leader. He smirked and started to laugh.

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just gulped more of the tar flavored death in a cup, which was slowly causing some of my brain cells to kick in, it seemed.

"What? Did I scare you, princess?" he directed at my dark haired companion. It was a well known fact that the seniors at Blue Grove chased after Ingrid's attention like flies to honey, despite her devotion to her Boyfriend, a psyche major at Columbia.

"Come on, Reena." Ingrid snapped and stood, catching me under the arm. I stumbled over the picnic seat, trying not to spill the devil potion and keep my bag on my shoulder at the same time. "Lets go to history." she began sashaying to the Jackass Brigade's left which we unfortunately had to pass to get to class, dragging me along by the upper arm.

"Where you going, ladies?" their leader, Joey Cavalier asked, smirking. "I'm not done with you yet; I think you should take care of me!" his tone told me his thoughts were gutter worthy in nature, the hip thrust he used to emphasize his point confirmed it.

"Well you see now, we'd love to!" I called sweetly over my shoulder, and the tightening of Ingrid's grip as she dragged me told me that she knew what was coming. "But I don't have tweezers or a magnifying glass so-"

Ingrid gave a rough pull that made me trip over my own foot. I caught myself before I fell, amused at the fact that all of Joey's friends were laughing at him. "You little bitch!" he snarled. Joey Cavalier was totally average on the high school scale, fitting in as a stereotypical jock. It was painfully obvious, despite his interesting surname.

Oddly, one of his friends piped up with a snicker; "You wouldn't be saying that if your brother was around." I heard the brawl break out as Joey jumped him. Ingrid released her death grip. We kept walking.

"Ingrid, I swear, you'd pick up so much less shit if you'd just drop me as your charity case." I muttered. "Huh?" she copped. I took another sip of coffee. "I know you're only doing this 'coz you feel sorry for me." I drew another lick of the sludge and indicated my walking with her and the coffee. "You should really just give up on me and go your own way, Dude."

She turned around in the doorway of our history class, nose wrinkled, brow furrowed and lips parted in confusion. Then it seemed to click and she scowled. "Stop being such a dumbass! You're eighteen, you're hot, cute, blonde, funny, skinny and fit and you've got great boobs -my ass is better than yours though, but that's not your fault. Now stop being such a freakin' teenage martyr, get over your shit, and lets go." she spun a one-eighty and walked into class.

I shook my head, sighed, and followed her in

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