God damn I hate this place.
It's been three weeks since my family packed up and moved out of our comfy house in Brooklyn New York, and into the boonies of the United States, South Park.
Or as I like to call it, Shit Park.
It's a fitting name for such a shitty place. It's cold (then again it is the middle of October), it's a hick town, no major shopping malls, no going into town with my friends, no nothing.
Fuck this place and fuck everything in it.
I'm sorry, I'm getting a little carried away. I should probably explain just who I am.
My name is Emilie Rae Anderson, just call me Emilie. Yeah I know, my name is spelled funny. Blame it on my parents.
Anyway, there's not much to say about me. I'm 16 years old, a junior in highschool. I have brown skin, gray eyes, black hair that goes down to my back with a streak of purple that I need to re-dye. I also have black braces that are the bane of my existence, and those large glasses that hipsters cream themselves over.
You know the ones.
So why did I leave beautiful Brooklyn to live here?
My parents job relocated here, and I was allowed to stay with my cousin Anna until they were ready for me to come down and join them. I wanted to stay in New York forever, but noooo. Mom wanted to keep the family together.
I can't really blame her. I am their only child after all.
Since I came here, my mom allowed me to take time off school to gather my bearings and get situated. But once the weekend is over, I am officially a student of Shit Park Highschool.
I sighed, looking out of the window. The only good thing about our new house is that my room is located on the second floor, and has a window seat. My gaze went to the pictures of my friends and I that I had framed on my wall, and the pictures of Anna and I on my dresser. Plus all the cards, notes, and goofy little pictures that my friends have given me at my going away party.
Before I could dwell on my past for too long, my mother called me.
"Emilie! Come down and meet the new neighbors!" I heard her voice from the dining room.
"Coming!" I shouted back. I slowly got up and slipped my feet into my favorite pair of Converse. Giving myself a once over in my full-length mirror, I ran a brush through my hair and held my bangs to the side with a hairclip.
Good enough for meeting neighbors.
As I exited my room and walked down the hall to the stairway, I heard an unfamiliar female voice. Dear lord whoever this lady is has a perfect voice for nagging.
I quietly entered the dining room, hoping no one would notice me. The woman talking had vibrant red hair, that was...well, big if that makes sense. She was talking to my mother a mile a minute, while a balding man (who I assumed was her husband) was chatting up my dad about sports. A boy around my age was trying to keep a younger boy occupied.
Before I could sneak away, my mom spotted me.
"Sheila," My mom began with a smile. "This is my daughter, Emilie. Emilie, this is the Broflovski family. They're our next door neighbors and we've been invited over for dinner." She introduced. Sheila and her family turned to greet me with smiles and friendly faces.
"Hello Emilie." Sheila took my hand in a handshake, "It's nice to finally see you! This is my husband Gerald, She gestured to the balding man. "And these are my sons, Kyle," The older one waved politely at me. "And Ike." Ike paused from whatever he was doing and smiled at me.
Good lord he's adorable.
"Kyle, bubbeh, why don't you talk to Emilie for a bit? I'm sure she'll be very grateful to have a friend going with her to school. We'll call you when we're ready for dinner." His mother suggested.
"Mom!" Kyle blushed as red as his mothers hair. "I told you not to call me that in public." Sheila waved her hand and I tried to suppress my giggles.
"It's okay Kyle." I was still grinning. "We can go in my room and talk." I began to walk back to the stairway.
"Remember the three inch rule!" My dad paused his conversation with Gerald to talk to me. I sighed and rolled my eyes. Of course, that ancient rule that has been passed down to many dads with teenage daughters.
"I will." I finally said, leading Kyle up the stairs and into my room. I plopped down on my bed while Kyle nervously sat on my desk chair.
Now that I really looked at Kyle, I realized that he's kind of cute.
His greet hat covered most of his hair, but some of his red curls hung around his face. He has eyes that were the color of emeralds (corny, but true), pale skinned, with freckles across his cheeks and nose.
Shit, how long have I been staring?
"Nice room." Kyle's voice disrupted me from my thoughts. "I like your pictures."
"Thanks, it took forever to get it the way I wanted." I appreciated his praise.
"So, you're from New York?" He asked, sounding interested.
"Yeah! Brooklyn to be exact. It's a great place to live, especially if you're used to the city life." I replied. "But be warned, it's really crowded."
"Yeah that's what you'd expect from the city that never sleeps." Kyle joked, and we shared a laugh. There was a pause, neither of us knew what to say.
"So," I figured the pause had gone on long enough. "Your brother is adorable." Kyle shrugged.
"I guess. Once you lived with him for your whole life 'adorable' isn't the word I'd use. Are you an only child?" He inquired.
"Yeah. I wish I had a sibling."
"You can have mine."
And we laughed again.
For about ten minutes we swapped stories and learned more about each other. Kyle wasn't very athletic (he mainly studied in his free time) but he sometimes played a casual game of football or basketball with his friends, he's Jewish, Ike was adopted from Canada, he's also a junior in highschool, his favorite candy is Swedish Fish, and he has a Super Best Friend named Stan.
In return, I told him that I sometimes draw with a promise to show him some of my art later, I love cats and dogs, I sing, and I'm a pretty good volleyball player.
Our conversation came to an end when our parents announced it's time to head over to Kyle's for dinner.
- TIME SKIP -
"Dinner was delicious, ." I said politely, setting down my utensils. "Thank you very much for having us over."
"Such good manners!" Mrs. Broflovski praised. "Kyle you could learn a thing or two from her. He never thanks me for dinner." She whispered to me.
My parents smiled proudly at her compliments.
"Mom..." Kyle groaned.
"Can you stay to play?" Ike asked me, holding my hand. I smiled down at the child, ruffling his hair.
"Sorry Ike, not right now. I will some other time." I said.
"Promise?" He held out his little pinky.
I hooked it with my own. "Promise." Which made Ike's face break into a grin.
"I don't mean to sound rude," My dad cut in. "But we really should get going. Emilie, I want you to start getting ready for school. Make sure you have everything, then bed."
"Same to you Ike, you too Kyle." Mr. Broflovski looked at his sons.
As we rose to leave, the Broflovski family came to see us to the door. Ike hugged my legs begging me to stay while Kyle tried to pry him off me.
"I'm sorry about him Emilie, he's a brat-" Kyle began apologetically.
"No its fine," I managed to wriggle away from Ike who looked like he was going to cry. "It just means he likes me."
"Ha, guess you're right." Kyle had a firm grip on his brother. "See you tomorrow?" Kyle smiled.
"Yeah, tomorrow." I smiled at him.
Our mothers must have seen the way we looked at each other because they then said,
"You know Kyle, I think it would be a good idea if you shown Emilie around school, and introduce her to your friends."
"And show her around town."
I felt my face heat up. Are they seriously trying to set us up already? Jeez, at least let me meet some more guys and consider my options!
"Alright." Kyle agreed.
"Excellent, I'll call up the counselor and arrange it. Goodbye Sheila." My mom waved goodbye to her new friend. My dad and Mr. Broflovski promised to finish their conversation later, and Ike looked sadly as I waved bye.
When the door close I could hear,
"Emilie's pretty! Are you gonna marry her?"
"Shut up and go to bed."
A/N: Alright! How was that for a first chapter? :D Well, technically prologue but whatever.
I know Emilie is an OC, but please read and review?