• T W O •

"She wanted a storm to match her rage."

・ ・ ・

"Today we will be playing World Cup!" Coach Max yells. "For those of you noobs who don't know, this is a soccer activity. You will have a partner—Assigned! Assigned!! Get away from each other!—and will work against all the others to score a goal! You will only be using one half of the field and scoring in the one goal! Each pair will have a country's name—That I will choose! Stop shouting!— and whoever scores the most goals, wins! Now stop asking questions, here are your partners!"

He seems like a fun teacher.

"Victoria and Cole, Brazil! Luke and Elijah, Iceland! Lewis and Colt, Japan! Axe and Ronald, America! Mitch and Rori, Australia! Rage and Boaz, Argentina!" He calls out the pairs and their country.

Coach Max continues, but I don't pay attention, having already heard enough information.

I scan the room until I find a pair of dark eyes locked on my own. The owner is tall and muscular, means we have a good chance of winning.

Striding over to him, I confirm, "Boaz?"

He nods and remarks, "I take it you're Rage?"

"Yup. Do you play soccer?" I ask hopefully, pulling my long black hair into a ponytail.

I like to win. I like being the best and trying, especially in sports and other physical activities.

Boaz merely shrugs, his amber eyes lazy and bored. Okay, maybe he isn't a talker. Not a big deal. Up close, I notice his peculiar hair. It is black and the ends appear to be singed, as if his hair has been caught on fire recently.

Together we head out to the soccer field and wait for the others to come and Coach Max to get it started.

"You take that side, I'll take this side," I direct gesturing quickly and then jogging off once I see his shrug.

Bending my knees, I get ready to run and take off as soon as Coach throws the ball in. I race up, dribble the ball towards the goal, and pass it off to Boaz when the other teams get too close. But we do not score. Instead, I look over and see Boaz laying on the ground on his back, his arm over his eyes.

Is he sleeping?! In the middle of the soccer field?! In the middle of class?! In the middle of our game?! AND NO ONE IS GOING TO STOP HIM?!

"Boaz!" I shout. "What are you doing?!"

"Imschlupck," He groans. "Aghtirag."

"What?!" I exclaim jogging over so that I am leaning over him.

"I'm sleeping," He repeats in English. "And tired."

"Well, get the hell up and run!" I roar, quickly losing patience.

I don't do well with people who don't put out any effort, especially when I am forced to work with them.

"I'm good," He grunts, flopping over.

This is a joke. This must be a joke. Nobody acts this way in real life.

Right?

"Coach always pairs the new students with Boaz," The green haired girl, Victoria explains apologetically.

I see what this is. This is an injustice! I will not stand for this just because some lazy ass can't get his ass off the ground and

"Run!" I boom.

Seeing it has no effect on him, I kind of lose it. But not all the way, thank goodness. I still have some control over my anger. For now.

Leaning close, I hiss, "You will get your lazy ass off the ground by the time I count to three or I will skin you alive, cook you, and eat you. Or, I will feed you to the piranhas, limb by limb. Or, I will run you through the garbage disposal inch by inch. Or, I will tie you to the back of a car by your hands and drive you through the streets until you finally die. Or, I will take a knife and slit you, navel to nose and eat your organs. Or, I will pluck out your eyeballs, shove them down your throat, chop your fingers off one by one, shove them down your throat, cut off your—"

As if knowing what I am about to say next, he leaps up, his eyes wide, covering his parts with his hands. Good. I didn't even have to count to three.

"You wouldn't dare," Boaz breathes, horrified. "No one is that cruel. You would never do such a thing."

Ferociously, I glare at him.

"Is that a challenge?" I say lowly, a calm determination and fierceness settling over my rage.

My yellow eyes are no longer filled with the uncontrollable flames of rage. Now, they are filled with the steel of determination and willpower.

Boaz's mocha eyes widen even further and he runs off.

Good. My pep talk worked.

Boaz races towards the ball, steals it from Iceland, jukes Poland, and quickly shoots it in the goal. A perfect score, efficiently made.

"Holy..." One of the boys gawks.

"Did Boaz just run?!" Another exclaims, looking around in disbelief.

Coach Max throws out another ball and I drop it to the ground with my chest and pass it cleanly to Boaz. I take off running and Boaz passes it back and I strike it into the goal, scoring us another point.

Baring my teeth in a mock smile, I can't help but feel triumphant. They gave me a crap partner and left me to lose, but I showed them.

Don't test Rage Falls.

"Halfway decent job today, class!" Coach Max yells, dismissing us to get changed and head to our next class.

"You," Boaz pants as we head out of the gym. "Are evil."

"No, I'm not!" I exclaim. "I'm agathokakological!"

"What on earth does that mean?"

"Composed of both good and evil," I answer, baring my teeth, the closest thing to a smile I can manage currently.

"Okay, then..." Boaz replies, backing away slowly.

With a dry laugh, I fling the door open to the locker room and quickly change into my regular clothes, a pair of dark jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt. Placing a hand to my heart, I make sure that my butterfly necklace is still there. It was a gift from my brothers, a rare act of kindness among my family.

Just as I am about to exit the room, a bony hand slams against the door.

"I don't know who you are, Rage," The owner of the hand hisses. "But you stay away from the boys, they're mine!"

"What boys?" I ask boredly. "Or are you claiming all the males in the world?"

"Excuse me?" She exclaims, cocking her hip.

The girl is thin, unhealthily so, and has blonde hair that falls to her waist. Her eyes are watery and pale blue. She wears a pair of too short shorts and a pink crop top. If she were healthy and properly dressed, she'd be beautiful. I can't help feel bad that she would feel the need to do such a thing to herself.

She moves a pale hand to smack me, for what, I don't know. I snatch her hand out of the air and clench it in a grip that is loose, but tight enough to hold her there. She cries out in pain, but I can't tell if it because she is really in pain or because she is being dramatic. Either way, I am too mad to care.

"Did you just try to touch me," I growl out.

"P-Please!" She sobs pathetically. "I'm s-sorry-y! I d-didn't mean-n to!"

"So now you're lying," I scoff with a shake of my head.

I fling her to the ground and shout, "Don't ever even try to touch me again, bitch! And don't tell me what to do!"

With a kick to her side, I storm out of the locker room, my anger growing. Now, though, I am madder at myself. One prissy little girl and I am already losing my control. Angrily, I slam my fist into a nearby locker with a roar. My hand shoots through the metal, but the metal does not cut me. My skin hardened on impact instinctively, protecting me and causing me to do a lot more damage to the locker than I meant.

Growling to myself, I storm away from the locker and out of the building. At least this is my free period and I don't have to worry about getting to class on time. Once I am out of the school, I take off at a sprint, racing to the woods behind the school. Running and running, I don't stop until I am deep into the woods. Catching my breath, I walk to the edge of a clearing. I shoot a hand out, calling a rock the size of my fist to me. With my other hand, I fire a ball of flame at it as the rock flies toward me at incredible speed. The fire is hot enough that the flames melt the rock and it drops to the ground.

Over and over, I melt the rocks. It is a game I picked up from two of my brothers. John would call a rock and Lonica would melt it. It was something they did for fun, not another drill that our fathers had them practice over and over until they mastered a skill.

Our fathers loved their sons dearly. However, skill was incredibly important to them, perhaps even more so than them. As for me, they hated me with a passion. Who could blame them though?

Now, I am literally the last person alive in my family. And it's all my fault.

Sinking to the ground, I put my head on my knees. Breathe, in and out. In and out. You're okay. In fact, you're better than okay. You are Rage, pure Rage. No one and nothing can stop you, I tell myself.

Getting up, I use the last of my free period to walk back into the building. I am much calmer now, my ever burning rage under control now. I timed it well and, as I am entering the school, students begin to pour out of classes and flood the halls. Heading to my locker, I spot Asher exiting his class and heading the same way. I speed up just a little until I am walking right beside him.

"Hey, Asher," I greet him.

"Rage, g-good to see you," Asher replies with a faint blush spreading on his cheeks. "What class do you have next?"

Now we are stopped at my locker. I pull out my backpack and schedule.

"Government," I answer simply, pushing my hair out of my face.

"I have Government too," Asher says with a grin. "Which teacher?"

"Mr.Harlow," I read. "You?"

Asher shakes his head. "Mr. Wright, who is right next door."

I smile at his play on words and shrug.

"See you later, Asher," I call, walking into my class.

Well, I walk more into a person.

"How do you know Asher?" He demands, his hazel eyes far more intense than I have ever seen before.

He has deep red hair, so dark it looks like blood. His skin is olive toned and he is tall, incredibly tall. Or maybe that is just his personality, making him seem even taller.

"Met him today," I answer. "Got a problem with it? Are you his mother or something?"

"I don't have a problem with it," He relents. "I am just shocked that he is speaking to someone."

Rolling my eyes, I retort, "Oh? He isn't allowed to speak or make friends?"

Not waiting for a reply, I push past him and flop into a seat at the back of the class as the rest of the students make their way in.

・・・

Q: What is your favorite color?

A: Green forever!