Chapter 3

I woke up at 4:49 a.m. Not only did the fact that it was an odd number irritate me, but I had also slept in. (All you lucky, spoiled kids sleeping in until five and six and seven a.m.)

My normal schedule is waking up at 4:15, that way I have plenty of time to be mad about having to get up early. Today, I didn't have that luxury, so I rolled out of the bed, grimacing as my feet hit the ice-cold floor.

With the lights still off, I changed hurriedly, then headed to the bathroom. After I brushed my teeth and pulled my hair into two boxer braids, I went in search of Kara McGinty.

I think she's what you would a call a handler, keeping me in line and guiding me on my missions. She's the one who's put up with my antics the longest and, yes, she's just as awful as her name.

Kara was already waiting for me in the kitchen, impatiently tapping her foot. "Dani, what have I told you about being late?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry." I wasn't, not really.

"We're not cutting training short, but we'll be cutting your rest periods short."

Yeah, because that's totally safe. I rolled my eyes, and she ignored it.

"Let's go."

I followed her out the door, and let me tell you, what followed was brutal. If you think your gym teacher is a slave driver, or that nemesis of yours is as critical as critical gets...well, you're wrong. Kara can out-mean anyone and anything under the sun.

An hour and a half later, I was drenched in sweat and one hundred percent frustrated. And although Kara has her moments, at least she can cook.

I finished up the huge protein waffles (she insists on a balanced diet) and washed the dishes (she insists on that, too.)

When the dishes were done, I headed back to my room. It feels weird calling it that, because I'd never spent an extended amount of time away from ART's facilities. The pale green walls could have been neon green compared to my own white, sterile walls. And all the picture frames and windows made it seem cluttered. ART's rooms were sterile and virtually empty. (Perhaps to save money on furniture? Who knows.)

At least I had a new, updated wardrobe. I wasn't about to complain about that. If you got a new wardrobe, you'd be excited, too, especially if all you were were exo-suits and a school uniform. Of course, you probably wouldn't be apprehensive, like I was. After all, I'd always had my outfits picked out for me.

Well, no matter. I was observant, so I knew what all the different types of kids at school wore. The popular girls wore trendy or tight and revealing clothing, and the nerds wore polo shirts, sweaters, and stuff that my grandparents (if I had any) probably would have worn when they were younger. Then, there were the foreign exchange students, who didn't really know the styles of the good 'ole USA.

I didn't fit into any of those groups, and I didn't want to really stand out. Jeans were a no-no for me, as all smart people know, skin-tight jeans inhibit your movements. So instead, I choose a light gray tunic dress that came past my knees, and paired it with a simple jean jacket.

I know, it certainly wasn't Vogue or Glamour worthy--not that I waste my time reading those magazines--but at least it didn't look like my mother dressed me. (Though, is that really a bad thing?)

"Daniella, the bus is here," Kara said.

I grimaced at the sound of my full name as I grabbed a pair of gladiator-style sandals to wear. I don't know, I just don't see myself as a Danielle or Daniella.What do you think of when you hear that name? A delicate girl with black hair? Blue eyes? That's not me.

I have darker blonde hair and hazel eyes, and my skin is a golden hue, even in winter. I've been told that I'm pretty one few rare occasions, but once again, I just don't see myself as that.

Do I see myself as much of anything, you ask? Well, yeah. And currently, that's a tenth grader who can't do algebra.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, right. Getting on the bus...

I sat in the very far back, with the Gothic group so I could observe everyone else. And let me just say, although they may seem scary, the Gothic group isn't that bad, really.

At the last bus stop, three kids got on--two boys and a girl. The one boy had freckles and so much frizzy hair someone was bound to mistake him for a walking mop. The other boy was the male version of the girl beside him...

...Who just happened to be Arianna Saints.

"Dani, right?" She shot a glance at one of the girls wearing such thick black liner it looked like someone had punched her.

"Yup, that's me." I grinned.

"Mind if I sit with you and your, uh, friends?"

Sighing inwardly, I moved over as the bus driver yelled for her to sit down.

"I wouldn't have thought this..." Arianna searched for a word. "This, uh, was your scene."

I stifled a laugh. I mean me, Goth?

"Just needed somewhere to sit," I said, shrugging.

"Same."

I didn't say anything more as I looked out the window. If Arianna persisted, then I would broach the subject of contcts.

Until, then...

Blend in, I thought. Observe, analyze, and wait for ART to get its act together.