I slung my back-pack over my shoulder,knocking a tall blonde senior into the door frame.

"Watch it k-Oh.Blaine,sorry kid," he mumbled,and ruffled my hair.My dark,curly,uncontrollable hair.I had often dreamt of having co-operative hair-You know,like movie stars have,that always does what you want when you want it to-but I suppose my own hair isn't too bad.It reminds me of my mom.My eyes are my mom's too-hazel,with gold and green flecks-I guess I'm my mom through and through.

I had to walk home alone.Well,it wasn't exactly necessary,but I didn't want Cooper to pick me up.He's cold,and hard.Just like my dad.His eyes are always full of hatred,and his face is like stone.He never shows any feelings.Ever.

The other guys try to understand me.I'm the smallest and the youngest,and I have far-fetched ideas about everything,but they put up with me.Cooper doesn't even try to act as if he cares.He goes to work,comes home,feeds me,and gets the hell out of the house.I spend most my time on my own.I prefer it that way.

But as I was walking home that day,I suddenly wished that I had gotten a lift.Or walked with Jeff or Nick.Or taken the bus.This town is dangerous enough for your average-Joe.For Warblers,it's worse.The New Directions take show-choir seriously.Too seriously.You can't walk a mile down the road without ending up black and blue.

The New Directions are William Mckinley High's show choir,from Lima.They spend all of their time singing and dancing,or jumping Warblers.And we usually fight back.I don't understand how it'll help either of us win.But it's like full-on war sometimes,and you've got to be careful.

Coop says it's because we're in a private school.Because we're the "posh kids".I don't know.There's more than money behind this.

I consider the Warblers as my family.I love them more than Cooper.More than mom and dad.

I spotted that all-too-familiar charcoal grey pick-up truck round the corner ahead of me and froze in my spot.I was in for it now.