Who's That Girl?

Amethyst 'Amy' Ariel Adrian sighed and leaned her head against the airplane window, watching the clouds go by.

"Amethyst," said her father in a thick European accent, "Please do not sigh. We need to spread your appearance by going to small, moronic towns." Amy rolled her eyes.

"Dad, I don't wanna go to America," Amy whined. "I want to stay home in Europe! In Geraldstown!" Amy's father, His Majesty the King Arthur Andean Adrian the Third, glared at her.

"You will stay with Aunt Aria Amandi and attend the school, Horace Green Middle School Preparatory. And you will be Amy Adrian. They just arranged the school to not wear uniforms, so Aunt Aria Amandi has selected several in-style clothing items.

"Okay, Daddy thanks," sighed Amy.

OOOOO

"A new girl? Cool!" buzzed the class of Mr. Tutor, which somehow had all the members of the School of Rock.

"Her name is Amy Adrian, she is from Europe. From a town called Geraldstown. Please make her feel welcome." Mr. Tutor said just as Amy walked in the class.

"Wow," Freddy whispered to Zack, "I'm not instantly falling in love with her like I do in all the Mary-Sues." Zack nodded in agreement.

Amy had her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, and was wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans. "Hey, I'm Amy Adrian. I just moved here from Geraldstown, Europe, a little town no one has ever heard of," Amy said in a slight accent.

"Welcome to Horace Green Middle School Preparatory, I'm Summer Hathaway," said a smallish girl with dark brunette hair and dark brown eyes. She was wearing a blue t-shirt that said 'I am the Princess. And you are?' and a pair of dark blue jeans. Amy winced at that.

"Thanks," Amy said slowly.

"Welcome, I'm Katie Brown," a tall girl with dark brunette hair and chocolate/green eyes said. She was wearing a black Ramones t-shirt and black pants. Amy thanked her.

"Hi, I'm Freddy Jones. You're gonna fall in love with me because I'm the sexiest boy in the world," said the boy with blond hair and brown eyes that stood out to Amy the most. She thought he was funny, because his shirt said, 'Girls love me, Parents fear me," and a pair of cargo khaki shorts.

"I'm Zack Mooneyham," the boy next to Freddy said. He wore a plain white shirt and black jeans.

The rest of the class introduced themselves, and one girl, a snobby looking girl named Marilyn, who wore a navel shirt that was nearly see-through and a pair of black leather tight pants. Amy decided to ignore her.

OOOOO

"So do you need help around Horace Green?" said a voice behind her. Amy jumped and turned.

"I beg your pardon?" Amy asked sweetly. She was frustrated because of this locker thing she had to do. She never needed a locker in Europe!

"I said, do you need help around Horace Green?" Leaning against the lockers was Gordon something. Amy couldn't remember.

"Uh," Amy said. Gordon's grin loosened a little.

"I-I'm fine, thanks, I'm sure I can manage. It's like when I moved to the new castle in Geraldstown. My father, the king, was so confu—"Amy cut off. She saw that Gordon had an expression that could frighten one who blabbed a secret.

"Sorry, I read too much princess stories," Amy fibbed, and Gordon wiped the expression off his face.

"I just was volunteering. I'm not in love with you, like in those Mary-Sues."

"Mary-what?"

"Never mind." Gordon sauntered off. Amy, puzzled, finally figured out the locker thing.

"Yay!" Amy said with triumph. She shoved her bag in there, and walked into the lunch room.

OOOOO

"Excuse me, fine cook, but do you have gefiltefish? It's what I usually have when I'm at home," Amy asked. The cook stared at Amy blankly.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but do we have fine dined meals that royal people have around the world? No. This is Horace Green."

Amy tried again. "Do you have any pork, finely roasted? Or France's best?" The cook sighed angrily.

"Look here, little girl, you must be new. This is SCHOOL. Not France. Now, here's your divine cup of freshly sliced and finely fried French fries, your lovely glass of pretend-wine-that's-really-red-juice, your exquisite, juicy hamburger, your beautiful rolled and wrapped fork-and-knife, and why don't you have a seat at the finest dining table over with your elegant class?" Amy thanked the cook and turned, tears welling in her eyes. He was purposely mocking her.

Amy sat by herself at her class' dining table, miserably eating her French fries. No one sat around her, only with their friends.

"Friends. That's what I need," Amy thought.