A/N Bad Dobby, Bad Dobby. Why I am calling myself Dobby is lost to me. I
totally forgot about Mary Lyra Parry, who will be an important character
later, so here is a beautiful Chapterino about her.
Mary Parry was staring disdainfully at her wardrobe. She was trying to decide what to wear to school. Her shirt that said "My imaginary friend thinks you have mental problems" and normal jeans or her camouflage jeans and a black tee. The problem was, she hated all of them (except for the first one, that was kind of funny) (A/N * pouts * I want a shirt like that!) Ever since Kylie Williams had made her remark about Mary "Dressing so, like, weird for, like, a teenager" Mary had tried to dress more normal-teen-ish. The problem was, she had better things to do. Like playing football addictively. But no, she needed to be "Normal." Mary muttered to herself as she tossed on the first shirt and the camouflage jeans. She added a green bandana to her brown-black hair and viciously stroked eye- liner on her deep brown eyes. Then she tramped down stairs, where her father was writing something viciously on a pad of paper that looked like a scientific equation.
"What the hell is that?" she asked, semi-interested. Her father murmured
"There is no Hell. We let all of the dead people out." Then, catching
himself, muttered
"Sorry, line from a poem. Hmm, just an equation." Mary lost interest
and buttered her toast. Her dad was weird that way, always somewhere
else. Her mom had died when Mary was very young, and for a father to
have to raise a teenage girl himself was hard. But he had Mary Malone,
his best friend and substitute mother (for his own mother had died
when he was barely fourteen. Her father murmured, without even looking
up
"Get that eyeliner off your face. You are only thirteen."
"Fourteen in November, dad." Mary sang sweetly, and ran off to school.
Once she was there, she wished she hadn't run. Mary hated school. The
first thing, everyday, she did was grab a seat next to her best
friend, Ella, and slouch down in her chair. Ella was native New Yorker
with a big mouth and nothing to stop her. She was the only American in
the class. Other wise, they were all English. But today, she had a
feeling something was going to happen. Something great and terrible at
the same time. She just wished she had dressed better. "My imaginary
friend thinks you have mental problems" isn't exactly the best garb
for a mystery.
Mary Parry was staring disdainfully at her wardrobe. She was trying to decide what to wear to school. Her shirt that said "My imaginary friend thinks you have mental problems" and normal jeans or her camouflage jeans and a black tee. The problem was, she hated all of them (except for the first one, that was kind of funny) (A/N * pouts * I want a shirt like that!) Ever since Kylie Williams had made her remark about Mary "Dressing so, like, weird for, like, a teenager" Mary had tried to dress more normal-teen-ish. The problem was, she had better things to do. Like playing football addictively. But no, she needed to be "Normal." Mary muttered to herself as she tossed on the first shirt and the camouflage jeans. She added a green bandana to her brown-black hair and viciously stroked eye- liner on her deep brown eyes. Then she tramped down stairs, where her father was writing something viciously on a pad of paper that looked like a scientific equation.
"What the hell is that?" she asked, semi-interested. Her father murmured
"There is no Hell. We let all of the dead people out." Then, catching
himself, muttered
"Sorry, line from a poem. Hmm, just an equation." Mary lost interest
and buttered her toast. Her dad was weird that way, always somewhere
else. Her mom had died when Mary was very young, and for a father to
have to raise a teenage girl himself was hard. But he had Mary Malone,
his best friend and substitute mother (for his own mother had died
when he was barely fourteen. Her father murmured, without even looking
up
"Get that eyeliner off your face. You are only thirteen."
"Fourteen in November, dad." Mary sang sweetly, and ran off to school.
Once she was there, she wished she hadn't run. Mary hated school. The
first thing, everyday, she did was grab a seat next to her best
friend, Ella, and slouch down in her chair. Ella was native New Yorker
with a big mouth and nothing to stop her. She was the only American in
the class. Other wise, they were all English. But today, she had a
feeling something was going to happen. Something great and terrible at
the same time. She just wished she had dressed better. "My imaginary
friend thinks you have mental problems" isn't exactly the best garb
for a mystery.