Special Agent Hormonal Imbalance

CHAPTER 1

"Mel! Let's go!" mom yelled suddenly breaking me out of my dream bubble. Honestly though, a bubble would be brilliant at this time of life. The big one-seven. The year where you really only have three terms to get your life back on track for university applications.

Christ, I always forget about it. Dad has this theory that the Gibbs family always goes to Harvard. That's how it should always be. Unfortunately according to my grades, particularly my maths ones, that's not really going to be possible.

"MEL!" mom shrieked again. I sighed. Mondays are so not what I live for. Yes, I like to think of myself as an average seventeen year old - hormonal, irritable, moody and very opinionated. My mom drops me at the Royal Academy high school every day without fail, rain or snow or, God forbid, flying frogs. Dad's a writer for the New York Times; sort of embarrassing considering the thought that he spends most of his time stroking his greying beard or trying on underwear. Occasionally both at the same time.

I grabbed my backpack from my wardrobe and stuffed my books inside. There was a Rolling Stone trapped between my biology and maths books but I didn't care. Now came the hard part - what to wear?

Normally I don't care about fashion. I still don't but considering where I'll be after school I have to take extra time to make sure I look presentable.

"MELISSA JANIE GIBBS, get down here, NOW!" mom bellowed. I could just imagine her face turning purple.

When I finally figured everything out and got downstairs mom was waiting at the door tapping her feet and swinging her keys.

"Melissa Janie Gibbs!" she began. I held up my hand and motioned towards the door. Mom glared at me and stomped outside. As the "fresh" morning air hit me I was reminded of the many interesting events going on in my life - the neighbor's lawn mower on fire; Mrs. Jedd burning her husband's car tyres; Mr. Carmichael's new Hummer, the list goes on.

***

The Royal Academy high school, Long Island is inhabited by all sorts of freaky characters. From the usual cheerleaders and jocks to the more complex serial daters and future game show hosts.

I am plain. Not ugly, not beautiful, not popular, not nerdy, not anti-social, not anything that can actually be classified as a social group. I am Melissa Janie Gibbs, I do not have a boyfriend, I do have close friends. What I also have is something so exclusive that it makes me the first and only seventeen year old in the world to have ever acquired it.

Not that I can tell you what it is. At least, not now.

So back to Monday mornings at RAHS, NY. Monday mornings translate into some sort of retarded dissection of a poor creature that Mr. Hanson found on the road.

That is followed by making a fool of yourself in theatre class; then twisting your neurons into knots in maths and finally drooling over your lip gloss in history.

The drool is a reaction that is caused when your endorphins go for a walk, as they almost always do during history.

Anyway, I tolerate it mainly because dude! Two more months and it's buh-bye boring educational institution and hello fun, awesome party life. According to my best friend and social mentor: India.

India is actually from Texas, in case you thought otherwise. I've only known her for around two months but as soon as she joined RAHS it was like she had been superglued to me. I didn't mind.

Anyway, she met me at my locker where I've tastefully stuck posters of Tommy Lee (I love) and Tool.

Her blonde hair was twisted in an updo which looked sort of ridiculous for school. But I've learnt that there's no point challenging India, she's brilliant at making her point clear.

Considering the fact that she was wearing a PETA T-shirt, I knew I was in for some severe bashing. India is a complete vegetarian and she hates it when I eat Quarter Pounders in front of her. I decided I shouldn't tell her about the lasagna in my lunch bag.

"Hello." she said icily.

I grinned.

She groaned and turned around. I followed after putting my lunch bag in the locker and pulling out my pens.

"So did Xander message you?" I asked carefully. Xander Peters is the only one of the testosterone-infected that we actually appreciate. He's also India's boyfriend.

"Argh." she snapped.

"No?" I prodded.

She turned around quickly and glared at me.

"No." she said flatly.

We finally reached biology and I cringed when I heard Mr. Hanson yelling at some poor newbie.

Sure enough, biology was boring. I tuned out and started daydreaming about a special someone. My special someone. I wish.

I was interrupted by Mr. Hanson prodding me hard with a test tube.

"Miss Gibbs..." Mr. Hanson started in his weird German accent.

"Miss Gibbs." he repeated, "Vee are going to start now, if you vould like to join, vake up!"

India stifled her giggles and buried her head behind a textbook.

"Today vee are going to explore dee complex structures of zee common cockroach." Mr. Hanson projected.

After a chorus of "Ew"s and "You gotta be kidding"s the roaches were handed out. Mine had a particular stench. India was at Mr. Hanson's desk protesting the killing of "innocent creatures".

India, the lucky thing, got to sit out while I tried unsuccessfully to cut through the damn exoskeleton.

I was beyond thankful when the bell rang and I got to dispose Brownie, as I named it, away.

Don't ask.

The day whizzed passed after that as I went through the usual Monday morning ritual.

I started to get excited when the clock started getting close to 15.00. My breathing started getting faster and I even started to sweat. The shame, this is what he does to me. It's embarrassing, thankfully I brought another T-shirt.

The bell rang and I pushed my way to the bathrooms. 15.12, I started panicking. I wiggled my fingers into my backpack looking for my Blistex. 15.15, I had my Blistex but my T-shirt was crushed. 15.22, I was ready, but my hair! 15.25, hair in submission, I looked normal. Great.

I rushed outside forgetting about India and Xander and everything else. I was concentrating on one thing. Where was it? The black Lexus that was always parked outside at exactly 15.27pm.

Yes! There it was, I was so thankful I hadn't missed it. I ran towards it while looking backward occasionally to make sure India didn't see me.

Finally, I was in. The smell of car freshener mixed with Bvlgari men's perfume hit me and I relaxed into the lucious leather seat. Nobody else was inside except for the driver. The car started and I was transported into the new world; the world of epidemics, viruses, murders and more. The world of the FBI.