Chapter 1

2nd February 2014

Allen Walker hated Melbourne. He hated the fashion sense of the people he had to constantly watch jogging around the park he lived across the road from and the middle aged men who thought they were really hot stuff and so dressed up in see through lycra and rode around the city on push bikes and traumatized anyone who was unfortunate enough to glance at them as they passed. He hated all the stupid trams and buses that clogged up the road and the gazillion cars that were constantly on the road, half of which seemed to be driven be selfish assholes who had never bothered to learn the road rules when they got their licences, (okay, true, maybe London had a fair share of those too). He hated the people who blatantly stared at the scar on his face and his white hair with either horrified fascination or disapproval, (sure, he got that in London too). He hated the new age architecture, most of which looked like it had been green lit by someone who had been lobotomised with a spork. He hated the sneaky parking inspectors who came along and put a ticket on your bike for being parked on a telephone pole. But, above all else, he hated the heat. It was February and it was thirty four degrees. Celsius! In London this kind of heat would be a national emergency, but here, these Australian freaks of nature wandered around outside in this bloody inferno like it was nothing. Allen didn't understand how they could do it. Granted, maybe him wearing a long sleeved shirt and gloves wasn't exactly helping his body temperature but he needed to hide his hideous scar.

Allen groaned and tugged at the collar of his shirt. How could it possibly be this hot at eight o clock in the morning? Even as he was walking through the park towards his new school, in the wonderful cooling shade of the trees it was still flipping hot. He abandoned his attempts to loosen his collar and focussed on just getting to the school. In the distance he could see another student moving towards the large building that took up most of the block in front of him. He had to admit, this building wasn't actually that badly designed. It was interesting, lots of windows and alcoves and pillars and….

He shook his head. Why the hell was he thinking about the architecture of a school? The bloody place was going to be his prison for the next four years, so he'd better spend as little time as possible not thinking about it. He stepped out onto the path that marked the edge of the park… and was almost mowed down by a large mob of distastefully dressed joggers.

Allen stumbled back as the group moved past him without even one apologetic glance or nod. Simultaneously marvelling at their ability to run in the heat and seething at their blatant rudeness he muttered venomously after them, "Yes, don't mind me. I don't mind getting almost trampled to death."

He checked for anymore oncoming swarms of joggers, and when he saw there were none, crossed the path and continued walking, crossing the road until he reached the entrance of the school. The first thing he noticed was the bike racks. There was a row of them spanning the front of the school that could probably have housed the bike of every student in the school. Only a few were full right now though. But he had a feeling that that was because it was still too early in the morning for many students to be here rather than the fact that it was going to be a million degrees outside today. He moved past the racks to the main doors of the building. The doors themselves weren't too impressive, being a strange vomit green colour, but the walls around them were tastefully decorated by large, colourful murals that were probably painted by the students. He had heard that Alphington Crescent High was an incredibly arty school. The only problem with the wall was that it had been tagged all over by some bloody idiot who couldn't think…

Allen stopped his stream of negative thoughts and something occurred to him. He was a total grouch when he was hot. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to put some more positive thoughts into his mind. He wanted to make at least one friendly acquaintance today and being a total asshole to everyone wasn't going to help his chances. So with that revelation, he took a deep breath and entered the building.

The foyer of the building was large, most of it taken up by a large glass windowed office and a stairwell. There were also the entrances to what looked like the canteen and the theatre and a corridor branching off to another part of the building. Allen made his way to the window of the office with the sign reading, 'Inquiries', over it. There was a woman sitting in front of the window in the office, tapping at the keyboard of a seriously outdated computer. When Allen was standing in front of her, she looked up and scowled at him. She had a face that was pinched in a way that looked like she had just swallowed a glass of unsugared lemon juice.

"Yes?" she snapped. Allen managed to put on a weak smile and said, "Hello, I'm new here and so I was wondering…"

"Year sevens are to wait outside until the bell rings!" she snapped at him, "Your teacher will tell you what to do then. Now go away!"

Allen frowned. Was asking a question that much of a crime? He put the smile back on his face and said, "Actually, I'm not a year seven. I believe I'm in year nine. I transferred from London."

The woman looked up at him again and gave him a look that clearly said, 'What do you want me to do about it?' before she sighed in an exasperated fashion and huffed, "Fine. Let me look you up."

Don't interpret that as something wrong Allen, that's disgusting, Allen thought to himself as the woman made several rapid clicks with her mouse. After a minute or two of hovering awkwardly by the window the woman snapped irritably, "Name?"

"Uh- Allen Walker," he replied. She glanced at the screen and the back at him, looking even more irritated (if that was possible) as she shot back, "No, Uhallen Walkers on this list."

"No, my name's Allen Walker."

"For God's sake, speak up boy! Can barely hear you!" she practically screamed at him then gave the list another once over. She seemed to find his name and clicked on it. She then reached under her desk and pulled out a lock, a spiral bound diary and a piece of paper. She handed them to him and said brusquely, "You're locker's on the third floor. Go up the stairs, turn right then turn right again. Instructions on how to use the lock is on the paper. If you can't figure it out ask another student. All year nines are to report to their homerooms once the first bell goes. Yours is room 210. Use the map in your diary to find it. Your locker's up near the VCE area so make sure not to disturb any of the students studying. Oh and there's a note on the back of the instruction paper from the locker people. Might want to read that."

With that she turned back to the computer in a way that clearly said that the conversation was over. Allen offered her a nod, wondering what this 'VCE' was, before starting up the stairs. On the second floor he passed what looked like a massive library. He made a mental note to check it out later. The library at his school in London hadn't been that great but that one looked good. He loved reading.

Once he was on the third floor he followed the office lady's directions and turned right. He passed numerous rows of lockers until he came to the end of the corridor. He turned right again and found that the entire right side of the corridor was lined with lockers with a couple of breaks for classroom doors, and the left side was covered by windows. Through them he could see the rooftops of the neighbourhood. He glanced down at the paper in his hand.

"Locker 122," he said quietly to himself, slowly moving along the row, scanning for the right number. It was a middle locker, about halfway down the corridor. Just before he opened it, he remembered the note the office lady had mentioned and flipped over the paper and read it.

To whomever acquires this locker, it read, We apologise very deeply for this. We tried to give you another locker but unfortunately there weren't any others. In order to survive this ordeal you must follow these rules:

When he comes to his locker, move. Don't get in his way.

If you arrive and he's already at his locker, wait your turn. Just stand quietly to the side and be patient.

This is the most important rule: DO NOT touch ANY of his things. Even if he drops something and you're handing it to him, just don't. He will cause grievous bodily harm to anyone who does.

We thank you for your cooperation and good luck on your endeavour,

Kind regards,

The Locker Staff.

Allen had to reread the note to make sure he wasn't seeing things. This was the strangest note he had ever received from a school in his life. It was possibly even stranger then that time in primary school when he had been given a note from his teacher saying he had to change class because his white hair reminded one of the other students too much like bird shit and made said student feel sick every time said student looked at him. God, it had been a task to get Cross to sign that one. Not because his godfather was to protective of him to sign, but because the stupid bastard had been laughing too hard.

Allen shrugged and then read the instructions on how to work the lock. He'd been given his combination and a few quick diagrams on what way to turn the lock. It looked simple enough. However, five minutes later, it was revealed that this lock was not simple enough. He had been able to shove his bag in easily enough, but the lock refused to open. After another couple of frustrating minutes, he slammed his hand into the locker above his with a growl of, "Bloody hell!"

"Oi!" a voice shouted down the corridor, "The fuck are you doing to my locker?"

Allen turned to see a tall Asian youth striding down the corridor towards him, a menacing look on his face. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans, his feet clad in black boots. He had incredibly long black hair tied back in a ponytail. His dark eyes were glinting dangerously and he looked like he was just about ready to murder him, but Allen had to admit he was a seriously handsome guy.

"Uh, I'm sorry," he said nervously as the boy reached him and stood looming over him, "It's just I'm new here and I got a bit frustrated with my lock. I didn't mean to…"

"Do I look like I give a fuck about your problems?" snapped the boy, "Because from where I'm standing, it looked like you were trying to break into my locker. And why would you want to break into my locker, unless you wanted to steal my shit?"

"No. You've got it all wrong, I swear I wasn't going to take your things!" said Allen, holding up his hands. Kanda's frown turned to one of slight confusion as he said, "Wait… Year seven's aren't supposed to be up here this early dipshit. Get the fuck down to the second floor and steal other shrimps' shit."

Allen black mood from outside returned. "I'm not a year seven!" he snapped, "I'm a year nine! Why does everyone make that mistake?!"

"Maybe because you're a subatomic shrimp? Don't think for a second that I'm buying your bullshit. No year nine could be that small. You're just some fucking little British newbie who thought he could steal some shit when no one was looking."

"I am a British newbie but I'm not a year seven. I'm just a transfer…"

"Shut the fuck up. Jesus Christ you're so fucking annoying, with your stupid white hair, and your stupid face and why the fuck are you wearing a long sleeve?"

Allen snapped. "At least I don't look like a girl. What, you a trannie on the weekend or something?"

The boy's fist came towards Allen's face so fast he barely had time to duck. He actually felt it skim over the top of his head as he slid down to the ground before it slammed into the locker next to the one above his. And it left a dent. There was an honest-to-god dent in the metal of the locker.

"Christ," Allen said weakly, before he scrambled out of the way of the foot that sailed towards his head. He stumbled to his feet and started backing away, stuttering, "W-wait a minute! Let's just calm down now…"

The boy ignored him and tried to punch him again but Allen backed up out of reach. Then, to his amazement, the boy spun his leg up and executed a spinning kick that would've probably knocked Allen out if he hadn't ducked. The youth then stepped forward and kicked his leg up. Allen bent backwards so it wouldn't connect with his chin and watched, shocked as the leg kept going until it was practically parallel with the boy's body. God he was flexible.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed as he stumbled away again, "Are you made of rubber or something?"

"Shut the fuck up. I hate your stupid fucking accent," snarled the boy before he darted forward with astonishing speed and grabbed his collar. He then swung the smaller boy around and slammed him into the locker.

"Owww…" Allen moaned as pain shot through his head. The boy's grip tightened on his collar as he growled, "So you turn up to school, make a shit tonne of noise in the study area, try to fuck with my locker and call me a girl. I'm not sure whether you have a fucking death wish or whether you're just a moron."

"Neither you prick," hissed Allen, "I tried to explain my situation…"

"Fuck your situation," snapped the boy… and a textbook smacked him over the head.

"Enough Kanda," said a feminine voice beside them, "Honestly, can't you go one day without getting into a fight?"

Allen looked over to his saviour gratefully. It was a girl, only a little taller than he was. She was Asian and was dressed in a black t-shirt with a red stripe over one shoulder, and was wearing a ruffled short pink skirt with a large belt that was decorated with numerous lucky charms. Her feet were clad in black knee-high boots. Her long black hair was tied back in two long ponytails and her pretty face wore an exasperated expression.

"If people stopped fucking with me then maybe I wouldn't," snapped the boy. Allen frowned. She'd called him Kanda. It fitted him.

"He's just a year eight Kanda. Let him go," said the girl calmly. After a moment's hesitation, much to Allen's surprise, Kanda released him, grumbling, "Don't see how it's any of your business."

"Thank you," Allen said, addressing the girl, "I'm Allen Walker and I'm actually in year nine."

"Oh, sorry. You look younger than that. I'm Lenalee Lee. I haven't seen you around before. Are you new?" asked the girl, smiling sheepishly.

"Yeah, I just transferred from London. Are you in year nine as well?" he asked. Lenalee shook her head and replied, "No, year ten. When did you-"

"Are you both done sweet talking each other," interrupted Kanda irritably, "How did you find us by the way? I swear sometimes I think you've got some sort of fucking sensor built into you so you can find me."

"I could hear you from all the way down the corridor. You were being really loud," replied Lenalee.

"That is correct, and speaking of that matter…" a voice announced from down the corridor, "I believe that I need to speak to you about the noise issue Kanda."

The three teens turned to see a man, probably only in his early twenties approaching them, a none-too-pleased expression on his face. His shoulder length blonde hair was tied back in a short plait and his grey suit was impeccably ironed and completely free of lint or stains. There were two red dots vertically parallel to each other, tattooed into his forehead. Allen recognised him immediately. He was one of the main reasons he had been able to get into this school so easily.

"Good morning Mr Link," said Lenalee cheerfully as Allen greeted, "Hello Link. Haven't seen you for a while."

"You know the vice principle?" asked Lenalee curiously. Allen nodded in reply. Kanda just stood there scowling at the approaching man. Once Link reached them he said, "Good morning Miss Lee. Hello Walker, nice to see you," his expression then turned on Kanda and his frown deepened, "As for you Kanda. You seem to have forgotten that this is an important study area for students in your year level and in year twelve. Making so much noise in the corridor is distracting them from their precious study time."

"First of all, the only reason I started that fight was because the fucking moyashi here was trying to steal my shit and making a fucking racket doing so. Second of all, it's the first fucking day. No one's studying yet because we don't even know what we're fucking studying yet," snapped Kanda. Allen felt his eyes widen. He talked like that to everyone? Even the teachers? And what on earth was a moyashi?

As Link started to snap back an angry retort, Lenalee leaned over to Allen and said, "You should go. This could go on for a while."

"But, uh…" Allen held out his lock to her as both Kanda and Link's volume started rising as they got more and more angry, "I can't figure out my lock."

"Oh, that's easy. Give me your combo," replied Lenalee kindly, taking the lock from him. Allen told her and she had it open in five seconds. She handed it back to him and he locked his locker. She then shooed him away down the corridor with a whisper of, "If you need any help with it later, everyone else at this school is nice and will help you. Kanda's just a jerk and he gets even worse in the heat. Now go on. I'll handle things here."

He did what he told her without much protest. He shook his head as he made his way towards the stairs. If that was how his morning had started out, what was the rest of his day going to be like?