Far From Normal

Chapter 1 The Dan Meister

I've never taken my life seriously, why would I need to?
That was my mine-set, what do you expect from a 16 year-old boy in the middle of nowwhere's vill?

Sure I've been known to work hard when push comes to shove but if I don't need to... I don't want to.

Class... my worst enemy. I was in class 3a in the east wing of this HOLY FREAKING GRAIL OF EDUCATION.

Ahem, please mind the sarcasm. For a school in Tennessee, it's probably one of, if not the best but Boy does it need to get like a thousand times more entertaining. Maybe then I'll try in school.

This school like many others, caters to the STRONG, the SMART, the BEAUTIFUL, and the RICH. So if you ain't got any of those qualities, we'll you my friend need to get friends who do or get money to buy some.

You don't need all of them mind you. If your a child born with all the pillars of the social foundation your in the A-Class, homecoming royalty king/queen of the school.

How many do I have you ask? Well I've got average Strength, sub-par smarts, and non-mirror shattering looks, but i'm in no way close to rich. I'm as middle-class as they come.

I'm about 5'9" so average height if your like me. I have normal shaved hair cut to the side, a chestnut brown but when you look at it from a certain angle you can see a hint of red highlights. Today was a little chilly so I wore a dark grey hoodie, my shirt was black with the emblem of Linkin Park on the front. I got it on their last tour. I wore regular fit jeans, not to baggy, not to tight, just right. I had a pair of black and red shoes that seemed to fit what I was wearing.

We had gotten light snow the night before. Because of brightness I threw a pair of sunglasses on my head before leaving the safety of my room to go make breakfast. My mom and dad were divorced so my mom lives in another town somewhere in California with my grandparents on her side. My dad went to work early and came home late so the only time I usually saw him was on weekends. I threw some leftover pizza from yesterday's dinner in the microwave and waited in the kitchen for it to finish.

I heard a knock on the door in the living room. Opening the door I immediately regretted the decision.

"Hey there bro"
"Dude how many times have I told you, we are not friends"
"Enough to know you care"
I cracked a smile.
"Get in here Danny"

Danny Moretti, the towns resident Italian thug, and my best friend. He lives a few houses down from me. His family has been in this town since before my parents got a divorce, which was 11 years ago. He and I met at a summer camp.

This guy was always hard headed. My first impression, first time seeing him, he punched the summer camp counselor in the stomach because he wasn't allowed to keep his butterfly comb in his bunk. Apperently it could easily poke somebodies eye out.
Ever since then he and I have been the best of pals.

"Hmmm?"
"What?"
"That's ma's famous slice o' italy"
"You are a god"
"What can I say"

Danny's family owns the only pizza joint in town, The Conte moretti pizza parlor, and oh my god is Danny's mother the pizza succubus. She is one of few Moretti women in 50 years to make pizza as good as the original Moretti wife back in their home nation of italy.
You know what sort of perks you get having the best friend of the pizza goddess are? Well the obvious one is free pizza. Usually dad forgets to get groceries at the end of each week so I have the literal blessing to be invited to Danny's house practically every week.

His mom not only make one mean pizza (and other amazing italian meals) she is really hot. But sadly she is married. I almost always get to take the leftovers of their end of day pizza from the parlor. That's actually what I'm heating up.