"Delphine Wallace," the man at the front of the class called out. The girl groaned at the mention of her real name, but raised her hand. Everyone had been asked to sign in, using their real names…and in alphabetical order. The teacher looked surprised at the time by the number of kids that needed help with that task.

"Here," she replied, then paused, "And could you call me Glinda?" The math teacher, Mr. P, nodded. His real name was way too complicated to say. It was Peittdierieuer, or something like that. Most likely, that was way off.

The 15-year-old looked grateful that he agreed, her eyes showing the emotion through her glasses, which were partially covered by unruly long curly black hair. The rest of her hair was pulled back from her face.

"Alysha Wood," Mr. P called out the last name on the list.

"It’s Aqua," she responded, lifting her ice-blue eyes up from the tabletop. You could see the aggravation reflected in them as she blew her light brown hair from her eyes. She returned to her former position, resting her head on her hand, elbow on the table.

"Kids and their nicknames," Mr. P muttered as he put the list down. He glanced up at the teenagers, "So, now that we know everyone’s names, how about we get better acquainted?" The students looked up at him with blank expressions, "Tell the class about yourself. What you like…what you don’t like…" He trailed off, hoping he had gotten the point across.

"I get it now," a girl sitting in the middle of the room said, obviously not caring if anyone heard her. She had shoulder length reddish-orange hair and bright green eyes the color of emeralds and freckles.

"Then you won’t mind going first," Mr. P volunteered her.

"I’m Meggera Campbell, but call me Sparks," she said, "I like dancing and parties. I can’t stand the Delancey brothers though…" She paused now, grinning at the sound of applause in the room. Everyone felt the same way for the two brothers, "I also don’t like rich people who think they’re better than us."

"You mean like the people who put us in here," another girl asked. She had brown eyes and brownish-red hair, which was wavy and short. A bunch of teens behind her nodded in agreement.

"And who are you," the teacher asked.

"Brenna Morrison or Stutter," she replied, "And I agree with Sparks. We see those type of girls walk by every day to their school and I can guarantee you, their school looks nothing like this." She gestured to the room, which was peeling paint and had a leak dripping from the ceiling, "Like this is for our own good." This last part was muttered, but few people caught the words. And the thing was…most of them agreed with this statement.

XXX

The first day was over. Kids of all ages poured out the front doors, only too grateful to escape…even if it couldn’t really be called that. They had been set free. A lot of them headed off to the lodging house that they stayed at.

In Queens, the lodging house looked the same as ever, except for the three new beds pushed up against the wall. There were few girls living in the Queens area, so the usual girls that stayed there looked up quickly at the newcomers.

The first girl to stand was Needle. Her green eyes lifted and she gave them a quick smile, "Welcome to the lodging house."

Shooter instantly stepped forward to introduce herself. One green and one purple eye stared down at Needle, who stood about two inches short of Shooter’s 5 foot 5 height. Her light brown hair reached her shoulders, and a wide grin was on her face, "Nice to meet you. So, which bed’s mine?"

"Whichever one you want," Needle replied, pointing out the new beds, "They delivered those while we were at school."

"I want the one by the window," another girl called out. She had hazel eyes, which peered out from behind glasses and shoulder length brown hair. She stood at 5 foot 1 and was very pale. She turned towards Shooter, "You don’t mind, do you?"

"Go ahead," Shooter told her, "Who are you anyway?"

"Zodiac," she replied simply and the two shook hands, "Wow, did you know you have a mark that looks like the Big Dipper on your arm?"

"Yeah," Shooter answered, "It’s a birthmark. Why?"

"I love astrology," Zodiac pointed out, "What’s your sign?"

Shooter shrugged, then replied, "I don’t believe in that stuff."

"Okay," Zodiac told her, "But don’t blame me if something bad happens to you." Shooter gave her a weird glance as she went to claim her bed.

Glinda claimed the bed farthest on the right, so that left Shooter with the middle bed. She knew one thing for sure though…it would be an interesting time with these girls.

Chapter 4