Chapter 1: Inconspicuous

Note: I may make a few errors in canon as a write this, but merely because I have not yet read the Teen Titans original DC comic - I have only seen bits and pieces, and have watched the animated series so I apologize in advance.

Her lip stung. Burning bright, and turning red against the cold. Stroking the pages of her book absently, eyeing her bitten cuticles, rolling her eyes – and once again tightly grasping at her desire for the ringing of that last bell.

At it's call she'd leave these hard, rusted bleachers. The cold. The snide, sophomoric comments, and hardened glares of cheerleaders, and most of her charming peers.

The soles of her shoes would tap against the pavement, eyes cast downward. And she'd rush into her room, past the age/life beaten face of her mother, and her afternoon cup of tea which near seemed to empty. And sleep. Dark and dreamless, and her only escape.

And there's the bell, right on cue. Her eyes cast themselves upward again and she stood – gnawing her lip once again at the dull ache in her muscles, from a long period of sitting, and accidently brushing Kitten van Cleer – the self-proclaimed 'virgin' goddess of all things 'pep' – by the shoulder.

"Watch it, freak!" the blonde snarled. Rachel, used to this kind of greeting, merely sighed softly and took another step. Only to be yanked backward with such force that her shoulder stung.

So much for your delicate cheerleader. She thought bitterly, having barely finished the thought, before more venom flew from the mouth of her attacker.

"Aren't you even going to apologize?!"

"For what?!" Rachel spoke, voice remaining calm and platonic, through fear struck at her core.

"Um ... Hell–oh!" came the sarcastic reply, "You just made me drip a perfectly good mocha-cocoa latte all over my custom-made Luna-Di-Seta blouse – now say 'sorry', like a good little loser – and run along before you get hurt!"

"I have nothing to say to you." Rachel piped, before placing a foot in front of her, only to be held back again.

"You bitch!" came the reply, anger shone bright in the blonde's blue eyes, as a strand of blonde hair fell into her face, perfectly alined, white teeth, set tight in her jaw, her hand poised to strike.

"Hey, Kit! Problem?!" came the call. A tall, muscled figured stepped into view, blue-eyes tinged with both concern and a feinted mirth, as he brushed his hair, a tinted-blonde shade, aside.

"Gar!" The blonde squealed – her once merciless voice, now dripping with the kind of honey-dipped sweetness that could only be manufactured.

"Problem?" the boy repeated, casting a sideways glance to where Rachel stood, and curving his mouth of slightly.

"Problem." Kitten laughed, as though she had never heard of such a thing before. "No, silly! No problem at all, I was just giving Ruth here some good old-fashion beauty tips – lord knows, she needs 'em. Am I right, Ruth?!"

Rachel's lips parted, when 'Gar' spoke instead.

"Funny." he chuckled. "I always thought her name was Rachel."

"Rachel!" Kitten piped, cheerfully, giving Rachel an almost affectionate nudge in the same arm she had almost broken. "Of course, of course! – So ... um ... Gar?" the girl muttered, in that same high-pitched, sickeningly sweet voice, casting her eyes downward and twisting her hand flirtatiously.

The whole scene was nauseating! Leaving poor Rachel to wonder why she hadn't bolted the minute Price Charming's voice had saved her. They were ones of the Royalty crowd – the jocks, the wealthy, and the "peep freaks" – as Rachel had deemed them. They were cruel and shallow, and plain stupid – neither one intrigued Rachel in the slightest!

Especially not Garfield Logans.

Still, this was kind of interesting, kind of like watching zoo animals in a pre-mating ritual, or a really gruesome car wreck.

"... I was wondering if you mind wanna go to the Winter Formal with me?!" The pep freak continued, "I think you're great." she smiled, gazing at him so adoringly that Rachel was tempted to be sick.

"Uh ... Kit?" Gar continued, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you had a thing for that Richard guy?"

"Ah, Dick" Kitten sneered, eyeing growing ... familiar at the name. "– it's an appropriate nickname if I must say so." she laughed, bitterly before continuing. "– but you,Gar" she eyed him, running her index finger down his chest ever-so-slowly. "... You're sweet ..."

"Um." the boy coughed. "Thanks, but no thanks, Kit – I've got plans."

"– and what about you?" These words directed at Rachel, who merely muttered a brief reply and stalked off – not yet carrying the realization that she was being followed.