*****NOTE: THE DOCTOR IS NOT PRESENT UNTIL ABOUT CHAPTER 7*****
Three days, five hours, twenty-six minutes and fifty seconds—wait! No scratch that, fifty-two seconds. This place officially sucks a monkey's furry brown personal banana. Three weeks, zero hours, ten minutes, and it'd be overly disgusting if I knew the seconds to when my mom caught my dad with a freckled-face-not-so-innocent red head bent over his desk. Uck! Why we had to move to this I'm-on-the-corner-of-boring-and-hick town I have no idea! Okay, so maybe the town wasn't really infested with hicks but still it is boring and in the middle of nowhere and more than a little bit creepy and why the hell can't my dad be stuck here instead of my mom? I mean he is the whole reason for the move! Good bye Pacific Groove, Monterey Peninsula, skate boards, surf boards, beaches, friends, and all that California had to offer! Hello Hemingford Nebraska with population 857 and not a lake in sight!
"I'm so going to be murdered by the Children of the Corn." I muttered to my window seal from my small rectangular window seat.
"Marilyn Joana Monroe!" My mother's anxious and excited voice filtered up interrupting my day of glaring out at corn, willing for the creepy little gingers to try and snatch me away to appease "he who walks behind the rows" and grow some more corn.
I sighed and shoved long strands of hair out of my face and stomped down our narrow steps that for some reason have to be a whole foot tall. The drab yellow and green 1960's flower wallpaper was in shreds all over the supposed living room. Mom popped out of the doorway that lead to some room under the stairs. She was decked in—God save me!—a paint splattered denim jumpsuit and a black bra being flaunted through the five buttons she forgot to do. Decked off with a red bandana holding back any of her reddish brown curls that escaped that big 'ol mess she calls a bun. In short, she looked like the chick from those "We Can Do It!" posters from WWII, or was it WWI? Either one, she still looks like the chick cigarette and all.
Puffing smoke in my face Mom said, "Honey why don't you go out around town? Make some friends, 'cause honestly? You're losing your tan." Mom laughed at her own joke since it was practically impossible for me to get past that "base tan" every girl tries to get during Spring Break.
"Mom two things: first, quit smoking in the house, it's icky. Second, we live three miles out of town. Well, okay not three but I still don't have a Nebraska driver's license so, you're stuck with me. Deal," I turned to head back up the annoying stairs when mom cleared her throat and did one of those harrumph things mom loves.
"We have two neighbors here," Mom gestured to her left, "The cute boy next door who looks a year older than you with twin sisters your age," She gestured to her right, "or the one with a bow tie and glasses."
I snorted and Mom smiled, knowing she won the battle. But I wasn't leaving yet, and I'll probably put on some short shorts and a tank top then bounce around with my camera to drawl them in. Hopefully it's not a Californian thing but a nationwide one where if a semi-attractive ash blonde girl prances around with an old 1950's camera you tend to gawk and say hello.
"So," I rocked back on my heels as Mom bumped past me to start spreading peach paint on one wall while the others had a light red/orange color on them, "I was wandering…how you are going to work when we're like five states away from your job?"
"I can do my job anywhere Mar-Bear. It's not like I'm the director, I'm only the screen writer, and I'll do what we did before the trashy red head slut who shall not be named." Mom grunted and pushed a little too hard on the paint sponge thing, causing long streams of peach paint to slowly fall down the wall.
"So, fly away every other week? Leaving me here? With a corn field across from the house," I asked frantic. My dad forced me to watch Children of the Corn too many times when I was young.
"Princess Peach, don't worry. That corn is our field, well at least a fourth of it is according to the deed. Anyways, it's to the back and nothing will happen, now go play with the neighbors." She sounded exhausted and sad and a little paranoid. No wait that last part was me. Still, the lost nickname did ajar me some.
My dad use to call me that all the time, thus Mom never said it since that day. I decided she's had enough and skipped up the stairs. I quickly got out of my bunny shorts and purple oversized hood-less sweatshirt and into denim shorts and a red tank top. I grabbed my 1950's Revere 40 8mm wind up video camera and threw on a grey and white button down sweater before heading downstairs and out the door. I stood out by the corn and put my precious up to my eyeball and began rolling.
"In Hemingford Nebraska three policeman found the bodies of several missing adults that were murdered for 'he who walks behind the rose' and then disappeared the next day. Valid reasons why my mom needs to stop being a prickly porcupine and get the 'heck out of Dodge' before we get murdered for the Nebraskan's crops! Da-Dah-Dun," I said in my best horror movie voice as I walked along the corn, backing up I added, "And maybe ship dad and his slut-a-terry out here to give to them. Hum, I wonder if there are any gingers out here, then I would get even more freaked out. Corn field in Nebraska with some little baby gingers running amuck. Stephen King would be elastic to see his work of art coming to life."
I kept walking backwards trying to get more of the crop in my shot when I saw a small black smudge run across the bottom of it. I let out a yelp before yanking the camera down.
"Sorry, I couldn't resist it!" A musical voice sounded from my left. I turned to see a girl two or three inches shorter than me smiling. Her dark brown bun bounced as she stretched out a hand, "I'm Lora, well Ah-Lora but everyone just calls me Lora."
I hesitantly took her hand and shook it, "Marilyn but people call me," I smiled brighter at her with my joke on the tip of my tongue, "Marilyn."
Lora let out a light laugh and said, "Nice. You wanna come over?"
I looked back at my house knowing my mom was either painting or sitting at the window chanting, "Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!" to me.
Not wanting to let down Mom I said, "Yeah sure, why not?"
Lora jumped in delight and grabbed my free hand, "C'mon you're gonna love this! I, my brother, and my sister live all by ourselves but our dad comes down every other week! How cool is that? It's like we're already grown up without all the hassle!"
I laughed for the first time since Dad decided to play peek-a-ooh with the red head. I let Lora pull my arm towards her back door before pulling out of her grip. But before she could even open the door a girl that looked exactly like Lora pushed her way out of the door and blocked our way into the house.
"Nu-uh Lora, remember what Alexander said before he left?" Lora's evil clone snapped open her eyes and instead of a soft hazel brown like Lora's there were harsh dark brown eyes. Glaring directly at me!
"Lena please we don't have to tell him!" Lora wined like a little child. It was adorable to watch but once I looked at Lena the adorableness was gone with the snap of a finger.
"NO. Don't make me say it again Alora!" Lena said and crossed her golden arms over her chest.
"Alena please, I even said your actual name this time, so please!" I felt bad for Alora. Like, really, really bad, by the looks of it she didn't have a lot of friends and I sort of want to be her friend…even if she did scare the beejezes out of me by the corn field.
Alena glared down at Lora and I started to shift awkwardly and toy with my camera to "make sure it did have film" and what not.
Deciding it'd be best if I just stopped by later or Lora came over to my house I said, "You know what Lora? Why don't we reschedule for tomorrow or something?"
"Really?" Lora sounded so happy that if I said no I would feel like I was kicking a puppy.
"Really, really, we can just hang out at my house. You might have to paint a wall or two but we'll find a way to make it fun." I said smiling reassuringly at her before turning to Alena, "It was nice to meet you Alena, I hope I didn't hurt anyone's feelings by coming over."
Once the real meaning settled in for Alena I turned and left to cower back in my room, but then something somewhat beckoned me to go out on the packed dirt road. The packed dirt road I've never seen another car besides the hermit crabs to the right, Lora's family, and my mom's car drive up. I kept walking and I started to film. Walking and filming. I wanted to do a voice over for it, but something told me to stay quiet. And then I heard it.
"Die you fuc…You little piece…die!" the yelling was being muffled by the thunder rolling around above my head, but I could still hear the hate in the speakers voice.
I know I should've turned around and bolted back to my house, but again something was pulling me down the road. I walked, glancing up from the eye piece every other minute to make sure I didn't trip and completely wipe out my camera. It cost twenty-five dollars but I had to pay a couple hundred to get it to work like new, plus the film which is around forty to fifty dollars a roll. I was just thankful my mom was a good writer and my dad was a good enough scam artist to be CEO of some major company bull-malarkey that I didn't give to damns about.
There was a loud grunt from my right in the trees and I turned the camera towards it. Foliage obscured my view but when I zoomed in just enough on the camera I could see a…a dark hand shooting down way to fast, followed by dark…
A hand rested on my shoulder, "You shouldn't be out here."
I yelped and turned around clutching to the camera to my chest for dear life, "Excuse…excuse me?"
There stood a boy…no, a man… with a bare well sculpted chest and arms, he had the most amazing abs I have ever seen…and I lived in Cali! Guys would show up to school without a shirt to show off a new six or even eight pack…okay not really at school, but still! I peeked down to see yummy hip bones. The kind that makes that irresistible V shape and you just swoon over when you lay eyes on them. He had a little bit of a light brown happy trail and at that I quickly snapped my eyes up. Dayum! He had the deepest sapphire blue eyes you'd ever see! They looked almost exactly like sapphires when light shines off them, and then there was the long I-style-it-but-it-always-goes-back-to-this messy wave of brown hair. I wanted to touch it so badly. His fully kissable lips turned up into a tight annoyed smile. Ah shit! He was saying something and he completely caught me checking him out!
"I'm Alexander…do you speak English?" He asked slowly and suddenly he wasn't attractive anymore, and instead of touching his hair I wanted to yank it off his pretty little head.
"I'm Marilyn Monroe, and yes I can speak English perfectly fine, thank you." I crossed my arms and looked at the ground muttering, "Grade-A, 'A' for Asshole."
"What was that?" Those kissable lips turned into a smirk, "A girl like you shouldn't say such revaluating things."
Was he calling me revaluating? "Excuse me?" I asked trying to glare holes into his forehead.
"You heard me." I guess now it was his turn to check someone out, 'cause those sparkling blue eyes seemed to roam just about everywhere. I do mean everywhere.
I suddenly regretted wearing this sweater unbuttoned. When he took a second look I got irritable, "Are you done yet? Or do you want me to take a picture for you so we can be on our separate ways?"
"That would be a site…not to see." Alexander the Duchebag stroked his chin while telling me I'm ugly.
Okay, I don't want to sound like I'm boasting but I know I'm not ugly. I'm not like a supermodel or have-all-the-boys-chase-me pretty but I do know I'm not ugly. I've dated several guys and a girl can't go out with like eight guys then some by age seventeen and be ugly! I didn't have that large of a chest but I still teetered between a B cup and C cup, so that has to count for something. I had those annoying hour-glass hips and tiny waist. My buns raised a little, but I was fine with that. My light golden ash blonde hair hung to my tiny waist and framed my cat like gray eyes to some extent. Sure I didn't really like my pen-straight nose that had nostrils that fanned out some. Heck, I had three boyfriends tell me that my full—my top a little more than my bottom—Hollywood lips were amazing. That has to count for something, right?
"I see you forgot how to speak again." Grade A said taking a chance to look me over again.
"I see you found something you like." I said glaring at his distracted sapphire eyes, daring him to look at me one more time.
"Not even, Mary." Alexander said all huskily making my insides turn to mush. But the fact that he called me Mary zapped them back to normal with anger.
"Don't ever call me Mary." I hissed at him then turned around and stomped back up the road.
"I won't call you ever!" he called at my back.
I turned around and walked backwards so I could shout, "Good, wouldn't want it any other way!" over the thunder.
"You're not a very good liar, Mary!" He shouted back at me.
I turned back around and flashed him the one finger salute over my shoulder. He let out a deep make-you tingle-in-all-the-wrong-places laugh and I muttered a curse towards him in response. Somewhat glad to get the last words in I said my favorite motto when it comes to him:
"What a douche."