Okay, don't expect this story to be updated too regularly, but don't give up on it because of that. For those of you new to this story! (that's right, new, I'm rewriting this, actually.) hope you enjoy! This story will get progressively better, and, when you think about it - it's so much better than the original! I hope this is actually good... might make me look bad. Literally... oh gosh, looking back at the original, I cringe. This story is a very well edited and slightly changed version of "Clace in High School" (you can check it out if you want to, but seriously, I'm warning you now its kind of awful.) Ideas, feedback, and constructive criticism is always welcome. Please hit me with that crap. :) Anyways, enjoy! Sorry this first chapter is kind of slow.

. . . . .

I wasn't exactly sure what scared me more; the actuality that I would be transferring to an entirely new school, or the fact that it would be alone, with no one else but my idiotic older brother Jonathan. The comical reality that this was actually happening, and that my mother was de facto letting us go to Brooklyn all by our lonesome to cause trouble left me dumbfounded. That really must have taken a lot of convincing on Jonathan's part.

"Clarissa, do you have everything packed?" My mother called from the lounge for what felt like the hundredth time. I swear, the further she pressed on about the situation, the more I felt like it was in her good graces that we both left. At least she would finally be free of the constant bickering.

"Mom…" I pulled my lambent red hair into a ponytail of tremendous curls, stepping out of my simple room for the last time. "Of course I do. Just finished up. Stop pressuring."

"Alright, okay. Good, honey." Jocelyn asserts, grabbing my heavy cargo and carrying it outside to Jon's beat up truck. I had to admit, I really did enjoy his car. Of course I would never actually admit that to him. My mother had gotten rid of her car quite some time ago, which left Jon's truck to haul our slightly heavy load.

There is the sudden sensation of annoyingly large arms around me, and Jon's voice rings out, "Hey little sis, ready for our move to good ole Brooklyn, New York?"

"Of course I am, but I'm not ready to leave Simon." I conveyed, gently pushing Jon off of me and turning to face him.

Jon chuckled, a low, breathy sound. "Mother didn't tell you? His mom called us earlier, said he's allowed to come with. I'm actually surprised she even agreed to something like that, but I'm certainly not going to argue it." At the lively news, I wrap my arms around Jon's tall frame, delighted things were going so well so far.

"But… where exactly is he going to live?" I failed at raising an eyebrow, receiving a laugh from my brother.

"Well… about that. Mom's not actually going to be living with us in New York, as you know, so we'll have our own apartment until things really get settled. Simon will stay with us."

"I never thought I would ever say these words together; but thank you, Jon." I express with a smile, pulling open the passenger door to his truck and hoisting myself into the seat. Knowing that I would have Simon to keep me company in the bustling city of New York - and at my new school - made me feel an entire world better about the whole ordeal.

. . . . .

We're nearly to Simon's home when Jon mutters something from the backseat of the truck.

"I'm sorry, Jon, what was that?" I ask, tone a bit miffed as I shift to look at him.

"Be sure to act surprised when we get to his house," He repeated. "Simon told us not to tell you, he was annoyingly clear about keeping it a surprise." Jon made a disgusted look, to which I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever you say."

Ultimately, Jocelyn rolls to a stop in Simon's driveway, who was presently sitting slouched on his porch, surrounded by luggage. I found myself surprised it hadn't devoured him in the time it had taken us to drive there. I scurry out of the truck, nearly tripping over my own feet as I run up to my best friend and pull him into a suffocating hug.

"I'm so glad you can come, Simon!"

"So am I, Red." Simon remarks, pulling out my childhood nickname with a soft smirk. I glower at the brunette; he knows I hate that name. Simon only chortles, glancing up when Jocelyn approaches with Jonathan in tow. Collectively, we each help Simon lug his rather abundant haul into Jon's truck, and in due time, we're all off to the airport.

. . . . .

"I don't understand why people have to buy a hotel room. What if I'm homeless and need somewhere to stay?" I pronounce as we all sit in the dusty truck, probably growing mold as we speak. Jocelyn had gone in several moments ago to get the key for out hotel room after just arriving in Brooklyn; since we had yet to buy an apartment.

"You have to pay taxes on a hotel," Jonathan groaned. "Just like with any house. "I'm sure they would just love to supply the homeless with somewhere to stay. But that's not possible in this world."

After a moments silence, I reply with a simple, "Fine."

. . . . .

Can someone please explain to me why I was woken up early in the morning by my brother slapping me in the face? Nothing about it sounds pleasant, and nothing about it is pleasant, either. I groan in frustration and bury my face deeper into my pillow.

"Stop."

"It's seven thirty, Clare-Bear. Get your petite ass up." If I wasn't irked with Jon before, I was even more so now. I sigh heavily, quite literally rolling out of bed, proceeding to make my way to my bag to find clothes to wear. I was most definitely not amused to be woken up so early. If you couldn't tell, I am not a morning person. After a quick shower and changing into a pair of dark skinny jeans and a cream-colored long sleeve lace shirt, I shove my feet into my boots and finishing getting ready for the day. Not surprisingly, I'm the last one finished, and we're soon headed off to go apartment shopping.

. . . . .

"You're telling me mom had a place picked out this entire time, and it's this?" I was surprised my jaw hadn't fallen through the wooden tiling at this point as I looked around at the large mansion - that's right, you heard me. Mansion.

"Yes, sweetie," Mom came up from behind and planted a chaste kiss to the back of my head. "I thought you guys might need a little room. I know it's unrealistic-"

"Oh, it is definitely unrealistic, mom. She could have written in a small little apartment, or a humble abode, or a freaking box, but instead we're given a mansion? This is incredible! Did she get a loan?" I whistled loudly, clearly impressed. Not bad, writer. Not bad.

"I uh.. Sorry to interrupt, but what school are we going to?" Simon chimes in.

"Brooklyn High; well known for it's great academics and championship-winning football team. The school is crawling with the disease known as "the populars," and the nerds have yet to be infected by it. All in due time…" Jonathan rubs his hands together menacingly, and I can't help but laugh at his idiocy - besides, it was kind of funny.

Dang it, writer. Could you at least make my brother a little more tolerable and a little more humorous, so I don't feel bad when I laugh at his jokes?

"Wow… can't wait."

That's a lie. I definitely could wait. But hey, at least I wouldn't get infected by "the populars."