" It's not about being the best, it's about doing your best." – Unknown

Chapter one: Zero

A R G E N T

I woke up to my alarm–

Wait a minute.

Oh, who am I kidding? That's not what happened.

"Ow! You flippen idiot, what was that for!" I mutter, clutching the side of my head in agony, a searing burst of pain shooting up my skull.

Oh yeah, that's more like it.

"Sorry!" My sister, Victoria, calls out sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck.

She picks up the soccer ball from the grass and I glare at the object that caused my misery, shooting daggers in vain attempts, hoping it would magically puncture from my heated stare. Tori kicked that stupid thing straight at the goal we set up, but somehow, I don't know if it was gravity or what, the freaking ball ended up slamming right into my temple, nearly knocking me off my feet.

Rubbish thing.

With a horrible pain now embedded in my head, I utter multiple profanities loudly, bad-mouthing soccer's mere existence.

"Language Argent!" Mum scolds, stepping out of the back door.

"Sorry Mother," I mumble, and she still has the decency to slap me on the back of my head.

"Ow!" I howl, biting my tongue from swearing again. "What was that for?!"

"Watch your mouth, Argent," Mum states, arching an eyebrow threateningly. "We have small kids around."

"Tori is two years younger than me!" I defend myself.

My sister was nearly sixteen for crying out loud and she cursed more than I did. I swear you'll be the best-behaved child on earth, and nobody sees it, but the one time you cuss, your parents somehow fucking sense it and pounce on you like Flash. Like you're always a misbehaved ingrate.

God, I was in such a mood. I wonder why?

"Arge, you have school soon, get a move on," Mum was still droning on by the time I snapped out of my musings. "You haven't eaten or changed out of your pyjamas."

Oh yeah. That's why I was in such a bad mood.

"Alright, I'm coming mum, relax," I drag out my words, picking up the blasted ball from the floor.

"Do I have to go to school?"

Tori began to snicker but kept quiet once I shot her a killer glare.

"Yes Argent," Mum says, sickly sweet, and I knew I inherited my sense of sarcasm from her. "Now get a move on before I start behaving like a drill Sergeant."

"Already are," I mutter, shoving the soccer ball in Victoria's chest as I stride passed her.

"Ow!" She lashes, stumbling back with a heated glower.

I wave my hand dismissively without bothering to turn around as I stalk upstairs, two steps at a time. My room is still dark, maroon curtains drawn together casting long shadows across the dark wooden floors. I wasn't one for colour, I'll be completely honest, and my room was a product of that.

My duvet covers are red and black, my walls are a stone grey. The lampshade at my table has a crimson canvas and my cupboards are made of ebony. Even the posters on my walls, showcasing quotes of the greatest footballers of all time, were black with splashes of red and blue, vermillion, and bold font written in white.

In short, my room was a dark place.

What can I say? It represented my mind.

"Argent!" Sage, the youngest of my one-too-many siblings, pokes his head through the threshold of my room, his shaggy brown hair falling on his forehead. "Are you coming?"

I wave the eight-year-old off, plucking a towel from my cupboard door. "Nah. I'll catch a ride with Charlie. Tell mum she can leave without me."

Sage nods. "Oh, okay. Rouge is gonna be mad."

I roll my eyes. Of all four of us, my twin sister, Rouge, was by far the most sensitive.

"Well, that's her problem," I respond sharply, strolling to my bathroom. "I'm not coming."

Sage shrugs helplessly. The kid is smart – he knows better than to get involved with the older kids. And since I was the eldest, the rest had to listen, whether they liked it or not. In my defence, it made sense. The youngest got away with everything and the middle kids didn't take the blame.

I did.

So hey, I could be bossy.

"Okay," Sage nods again and disappears down the hallway.

I sigh, heading for a hot shower. The moment I turn on the tap, I feel at ease instantly. The water is so warm, burning my back and soothing my nerves. It thunders in my ears, pounding on my skin like rain. I could stay here forever. Honestly, nothing gets better than taking a nice bath after doing laps and having a killer soccer practice session.

It was kind of a routine. Every morning, Tori and I woke up at five and went for a run. When we got back, Mum was up with a fruit smoothie made for us specifically. We'd head to the backyard thereafter, and practice our soccer skills, sometimes even with Dad. Then, there was an optional breakfast, and we'd head straight for school. It was a bit hectic for so early in the morning and that was only my schedule. Rouge had her own thing going on. I guess that's what happens when you're part of a big family.

I dress nicely for the first day of school as a senior student. Well, I think it's nice. Leather jacket, grey shirt, and some dark jeans. I pull on a pair of black Soviet high tops and then sling my bag over my shoulder. I race down the stairs, checking my wristwatch. It's too late for breakfast.

Grabbing an energy bar from the counter, I'm running out of the house and locking the door in record time. I don't bother to call a greeting as I slap on a pair of aviators to cover my eyes from the sun. It's a bright day, too bright in fact. The sky is blinding azure, and the sun sparkles harsh rays of light, melting onto the driveway like molten.

A baby pink convertible pulls up on the driveway and I roll my eyes as the window slides down. A face sticks out, curly brown hair blowing in the light breeze, and the driver starts waving madly.

"Hiya, bestie!" Charlie says excitedly as she unlocks the door for me, smiling from ear to ear.

"Charlie, it's the first day of school," I groan, climbing in. "Why on Earth are you so ecstatic?"

She shrugs, her slender shoulders bouncing. "It's a brand-new day Arge, lighten up."

I grunt in response, crossing my arms and slumping in my seat. Charlotte, my best friend since childhood, is the very epitome of happiness. She's loud and outgoing and extremely loyal. And as much as I argue and disagree with her, I could ask for a better friend. Sometimes, in life, you need an opposite factor, to balance out your life. And Charlie does just that.

"I can't believe you're wearing a jacket in this heat!" She chirps, eying my leather from behind a pair of big, round sunglasses. "It's hot outside Arge, don't you sweat?"

"Course I don't," I reply, with a smug smile.

She huffs and shoves my shoulder. "I've seen you play soccer, you sweat. A lot."

"Charlotte!" I gasp. "I do no such thing."

"Just calling it how I see it," she flicks her hair over her shoulder and laughs.

"So ..." I begin.

"So," she echoes, mimicking me with an overly gruff voice.

I shoot her a glare. She smiles.

"That sounds nothing like me," I deadpan.

"Mhmm."

I turn away to look at the window and maybe sulk a little. "So, as I was saying ... when's James getting back?"

James was the third member of the group. And a total dork. It shouldn't have made any sense for him to be hanging out with the likes of me, or Charlie, yet somehow, he helped us balance out perfectly. James was quirky, very quiet, an avid bookworm and had the biggest crush on Charlie.

Not to say the feelings were unrequited. Because I swear, the moment I brought up James I saw Charlie blush. It's so sad when two people are so oblivious of their feelings for one another. It makes me want to simultaneously gag, bash their heads together and make them declare their love for one another.

"I think tomorrow," Charlie shrugs, keeping an eye on the road as I munched on my breakfast bar.

"Did you get a haircut?"

I push my hair from my face self-consciously. Leave it to Charlie to notice a small detail like that. I loved my hair. I know I sounded vain, but I really did. I took care of it more than ordinary guys did, but that might've been a reality of having such freakish features. My hair was unnaturally pale, bordering almost white in colour, and looked even lighter than bleached blond, despite it being natural.

Mum said it looked like Draco Malfoy, but Dad disagreed because his hair was the same colour and he hated Slytherin. My eyes weren't normal either. Mum had green eyes; Dad had amber. Mine was some weird fusion between the two. Similar to hazel, but not quite. As a result, I looked downright intimidating. Scary. And didn't even have to try.

"Alright," Charlie announces as she parked the car. "Here's to the first day of school."

I sighed and fist-bumped her offered hand, dread pooling in my stomach. I hated high school, really, I did, but then again, which student didn't?

"I love first days!" Charlie says, putting away her sunglasses.

Oh right.

I don't bother to remove my sunglasses. It feels cool wearing aviators. Suave. I can see the world through dark lens and not a single person could see my soul. I lock the car door behind me as I exit, squishing up my wrapper into a ball. I look around, my eyes landing on a trash can not too far off, between two cars.

"You think I can make it?" I ask Charlie, pinpointing my trajectory.

"Huh?" She asks, in a strained voice and I turn around confused.

" Seriously?" I let out an exasperated breath watching her hop on one foot trying to tie her shoelaces. "Why must you do that?"

Charlie grins guiltily, her fingers stuck in the back of her bright yellow sneakers. "A little help?"

I guess she tried to match her shoes with her shirt today, given her printed tee was a xanthic colour. It didn't help my poor eyes that her leggings were turquoise. But then again, this is Charlie we're talking about. She liked dressing bright and bold. Even her make-up was borderline neon, and her jewellery (she wore a lot of jewellery) was a variety of colourful beads.

"Sit down," I order Charlie, gripping her elbow as I helped her sit on the hood of the car.

"Thanks, Arge," she smiles sweetly as I bend down in front of her to sort out her shoe problem.

" Yeah yeah," I mutter, because she was basically my little sister.

And I know what you're thinking. But I'm serious. Charlotte and I are not one of those best friends who turn out to have feelings for each other. We've tried to be more -- we did, and it was perhaps, the worst idea in the history of bad ideas. So, me helping her put on her shoes, because she refuses to drive with them, is a platonic thing. I'd make the same gesture for Tori or Rouge.

"There," I stood up, finishing off the laces with a flourishing bow. "All done."

"Thank you," Charlie states again, dropping down from the hood and pecking my cheek.

" Ugh, don't do that," I scrunch up my nose, wiping my cheek with my hand. I didn't do kissing, even innocent ones. I didn't do hugs either, so at least Charlie avoided that horror.

"Hey," Charlie grins at me, tossing me my school bag, before throwing it on her own. "Why you gotta be so mean? Don't you know I love you?"

I roll my eyes at the song reference, yanking my bag from her hand. "Whatever Charlie. Let's just go to this fucked up hellhole we call school."