If someone asked me what I was planning on doing with my life after school, my answer would definitely not be college or trade school.

Honestly, I had no idea, and it wasn't something I thought about often. Plans were never my thing. As bad and lazy as it sounded, I had the habit to just . . . well, go with things. I had enough things going on without trying to fit in a schedule - which was (I liked to tell Hadi this, especially) why I loathed school. I didn't care for the academic world because knowing whatever the hell f(x) = a(x-h) + k meant would not save me when I needed to get myself out of a situation I accidentally walked into.

Besides, I hated doing the same things every day. Having a routine made me predictable.

I threw my biology book at the floor, tired of trying to make sense of what I was reading. I pulled out my phone to see the time. It was barely eleven in the morning. Hadi had only been gone for an hour.

A loud thunk! hit the ceiling, gesturing that whoever was upstairs was up to something.

"What the hell?" a male voice yelled. Another bang, and bits of dust fell down in front of my face. "Anne - what are you doing?"

More sounds of more things hitting their floor - my ceiling - gave me the impression that someone was purposely dropping heavy things. I sighed and leaned over to press my face into my hands. It was beginning to look like Mr. Horten would have to make due with what I already had. 

Groaning, I tossed the book to the side just as another set of knocks pounded at the door.

"Go away!" I shouted at the door, knowing quite well who was pounding at it.

As expected, they didn't listen. I heard  the distinct clink! of a lock being picked and sighed, rolling my eyes up at the ceiling.

"Guys, I am not in the mood today," I greeted once the door was propped open.

"Hale, my lovely little alcoholic friend, you!" returned a chippy, mockingly sweet male voice - which was quickly followed by a swift smack to the back of the head by someone behind him. "Ow!" he exclaimed.

"Stop being weird," an older female voice said.

"Stop being a bitch," retorted the boy, rubbing his head. He hadn't even walked in through the doorway yet. Instead, I saw him glaring to the side.

Another male voice gave an audible sigh.

"Can you two take this up inside?"

"Or you can leave me the fuck alone," I pipped. "Just an idea."

The boy that got his head smacked ignored me - all three of them did, in fact - and strode into my apartment without turning his evil eye away from the girl that hit him. I raised my head to study the three idiots.

The first boy - Stefen - looked like his mother just forced him to go thrift shopping for clothes and threatened to decapitate him if he didn't wear what she got for him - which was normal, but this time it was as if his mom had decided to be nice for a change. He wore a bright crimson shirt with the picture of a pig's head displayed on the front, the words 'Boar Me!' crossing over the pig's face. He desperately tried to cover said shirt with a ripped up, black leather jacket, which horribly clashed against the shredded pair of jeans that hugged his waist but flared out at his ankles.

I wasn't even sure if he saw the coffee table, because he made a direct beeline to the bathroom, where I had a stash of his normal clothes folded up beneath the sink.

"I swear, my mother makes me wear this to keep me from getting laid," I heard him grumble beneath his breath - clearly still annoyed at being hit.

"First intelligent thought you'd had all year," the girl, Pen, called after him, to which he returned with an obscene gesture over his shoulder.

"Not like you're any better, Carmere," I remarked, using her last name.

"Fuck you, Hale," she retorted. She was wearing a casual grey sweatshirt two sizes too big and faded jeans, her short black hair sticking up at the sides and her dark eyes drooping. Stefen must have just woken her up. Without missing a beat, she strode over to the couch, briefly eying the discarded table before plopping herself down on the opposite side of me.

The final boy, Jet, stooped in after her, shutting the door behind him. Jet was the oldest of the group at twenty years old, probably one of the youngest tattoo artists I've ever met that could make a living out of inking skin. Half of his face was marked up in black and white ink, as was his entire right arm. I caught a glimpse of the only colored ink he had on him when he raised his left hand to run through a mess of blond hair, which was a name on the inside of his wrist in beautiful turquoise blue cursive, Cadie. He wore a typical white shirt and jeans, his pale skin losing the tan he'd managed to gain over the summer.

"What the hell happened to the table?" He asked, his dark eyes assessing the damage.

"And what the hell are you reading?" Pen inputted, grabbing the book I had discarded.

"New guy decided to stop by," I answered Jet, before turning on the girl. "Please don't mess with that. I need to return it to school."

"Hale can read?" Stefen shouted from the bathroom.

"What's going on with his parents?" I asked Pen and Jet, ignoring Stefen's remark and gesturing to the ceiling, where the arguing couple's voices were just short of screaming. Pen scoffed.

"Anne is off her meds," she informed.

I cocked an eyebrow at this.

"Didn't she just buy them last week?"

Jet snorted.

"Brian stole them," he said curtly, mentioning Stefen's deadbeat older brother. I frowned, but before I could open my mouth, Stefen was already walking out of the bathroom, having changed into a plain black t-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans Hadi had bought for him on his birthday last month.

"Hale, we're bored out of our minds," he said loudly, clearly not wanting to talk about his family - even if we could hear what's going on right above us.

I grunted.

"And that's my problem, why?"

"We're making it yours," said Pen, who was flipping through the pages of my biology book.

"Look, guys, I can't be doing anything stupid," I said. "Hadi's out on a date."

"Joey?" Jet asked. I nodded. Stefen shoved himself between me and Pen, not caring that he'd sat on her feet, even at her objection. He bent over to to pick at the shattered pieces of wood on the floor.

"He gonna marry her anytime soon?" Stefen tried to ask it casually, but I could detect the warning beneath his voice. Stefen was slim even if he was a little tall, and Joey would have no problem tossing him out the window, but Hadi was like Stefen's second mom. I knew that he didn't like how Joey hadn't already taken my young guardian out of here, yet.

"He has the ring," I commented, and that was all the boy needed to hear.

He sat back, finally shifting himself so that Pen could get her feet free, before turning on me. Loose strands of his midnight-black hair fell over his eyes.

"I'm bored."

"Don't care."

He groaned, tossing back his head against the couch.

"We haven't done anything exciting in forever."

"Not my fault you couldn't go to Hadi's birthday party this past Sunday," I snapped.

"I was in jail."

I'd heard about that. "What the fuck did you even do, anyway?"

Pen shoved the guy with her foot.

"This idiot threw up on Judge Velory in the sub," she answered. "After he insulted a female cop."

Stefen snickered. "I barely remember that," he admitted. Jet let out a snort, and I looked up to see him looking at me.

"You would have been proud," he said. "He drank almost as much as you and still managed to get to the train."

In turn, I gently socked the stupid bastard in question in the arm.

"If you'd waited a couple more days to get drunk, you'd have had the same effect." I paused. "You really threw up on a judge?"

"Damn lucky it was Velory," Jet said at the same time Pen jolted upright, her eyes widening at something she found in my bio book.

"Ew, what the hell?" she exclaimed. "Guys, we're basically snakes!"

Oh boy. Stefen, momentarily distracted, moved to look over the book.

"The human body sheds over six-hundred-thousand skin particles per year," he read. "Damn, we shed skin?"

Yeah, no, I was not about to have this discussion. I rose to my feet.

"I'm grabbing a snack," I announced.

"Can you get me a pop?" Stefen asked, still reading through whatever was on the page. Maybe I should ask those two to write my paper.