I honestly think the person who created high school must've been the most sadistic bastard to have ever lived. Also, a grumpy old man who hated kids.

"Let's put our pubescent children together in a prison- uh I mean building. And have them compete with each other in athletics, intelligence and looks because in this day and age having gladiators is considered inhuman. And during this period of 6 years, their sense of individuality will be crushed in order for them to be in the 'in' crowd. Everyone will be grouped based on their interests or their strengths and anyone who doesn't fit the mold will be condemned by those around them. Because, of course, as you all know, being different is bad," and then the old fart would pause dramatically. "I shall call it "'HighSchool'."

"Bravo sir," some one would cry.

"Good show, sir," another would say.

I paused. Why did the old people in my mind sound British, I thought as I turned the knob of the combination lock to point to its last number. With a small 'chk' it opened.

I looked at my time table and saw that I had my self study session today. I pulled out my extension work booklets with a groan. I usually liked the self study sessions but today we would have to be starting group work. And I honestly didn't know why, it possibly had something about my superiority complex and pessimistic point of view, but I just didn't like working with people.

The thudding sound of footsteps could be heard down the hall and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Suddenly, I understood the reason for the English accents in my delusions. And that reason was a person, a person named Mackenzie Novac.

Handsome, rich, strong and also the the human form of Beelzebub. Also, a huuuugggggeeee pain in the ass for me. On my first day of school I messed up and I messed up bad. All I had to do was keep my head down and get through high school as your typical nerd girl. At least that's what I had wanted my stereotype to be. I had even bought fake glasses. But alas a quiet high school life just wasn't meant to be. If only I hadn't-

I slammed my locker door shut, silencing my thoughts. Regret wasn't something I believed in or let waste my time.

Turning around, clutching my books close to chest, steeling my self to at least try and be civil towards my classmates this lesson. When I just HAD to go and make eye contact with Novac.

Seeing he had caught my eye, his already arrogant smirk widened. He began to swagger his way towards me.

He called out, "There you are!"

I looked around and saw that the halls had emptied very quickly. Except for a few stragglers such as my self and HIM.

When he came to stop in front of me, I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Me?" I asked, gesturing to myself.

His smile faltered.

"Um there isn't anyone else I'm talking to," he said. His slight British accent rearing it's head.

I looked at him blankly.

Taking a sharp intake of breath, he said, "Let's cut to the chase, okay."

His previous pretence of friendliness now fully discarded.

"I want you to do the Self Study project with me," he said.

Now that was a surprise. The Self Study Project counted for 50% of our scores for final year. And Novac was meant to inherit his fathers company, so I didn't understand his sudden interest in it.

"Um, why me?" I asked.

"Well you see," he said smiling. "You're the smartest person here at this school. You came top of all the students here. And frankly, I can't go to Juvie again."

"Oh, I see," I said. "Daddy's money can only get you out " once " without it making the papers."

I saw his fist clench. But he slowly loosened it.

"Your answer?" He asked. A fake smile plastered all over his face.

"No," I said looking him straight in the eyes.

His fist slammed into the locker beside mine. His hand dangerously close to my face. Involuntarily, I flinched.

He leaned in close and whispered menacingly in my ear.

"No one says no to me," he said.

Placing my hands onto his chest and pushing him as far away from me as possible, I turned and walked away. I took a few quick paces then stopped. I turned to Novac and saw that he looked surprised.

"No one says no to me," I said mimicking his tone. "Well guess what tough guy, I just did. Also, Miss. Cater chooses our partners for the project, genius."

Shooting him a triumphant smirk of my own I turned tail and walked/ran to class.

Coming to stop outside the classroom door. I came to a sudden realisation. My little performance in the hallway would not go unpunished. Novac would retaliate and prove to me that my small victory had been fleeting. But now, I wasn't just going to sit by and watch him plot my downfall. I would do some plotting of my own.

Steeling myself for the battle that lay ahead of me, someone just had to go ahead and throw a spanner in the works.

Entering the class, Miss Carter announced who my partner for the project would be.

As luck would have it, Novac wasn't my partner. But as the universe would have it. I got someone potentially worse.

Santana Michaels.

Head cheerleader, Queen Bee, Mackenzie Novac's girlfriend.

And, unfortunately for me, Miss Popular.