A/N
This is my first attempt at a fanfiction, and I'm not sure it even qualifies. Characters from TV and such will appear later. I didn't even know where to place it, so go easy on me (It's my first story, after all). Any critique will be acknowledges positively.
Ah God...my head...
Ugh...
It feels like somebody hit me with a hockey stick...
Wait, DID someone hit me with a hockey stick?
What was I doing yesterday? Was I playing hockey? Was I even in school?
Am I still in school?
It...looks like my school, but there's something weird about it.
Wherever I am, I'm lying on the ground.
I'd better get up...
...
Nope.
My head is spinning too much for me to even lift it.
"Excuse me...?" A pair of mary-jane clad feet appear beside my face, and I think the owner of them is talking to me, "Are you alright?" What a pretty melodic little voice...
"Yes. Just giving the floor a good cuddle." I mutter.
Hey, even with a headache, I can be sarcastic. Those are my rules.
"Who are you?" The person speaking takes ahold of my arm and hoists me to my feet, sending my head swirling.
"M'..." Wait a minute...
WHO AM I?
Oh God! I don't know where I am, I don't know how I got here, and now I DON'T EVEN KNOW MY OWN NAME?
The person, who is now obviously a girl, is staring at me oddly.
She probably thinks I'm a real nutcase.
Okay...
Okay...come up with a fake name?
That sounds sensible.
"My name is Floor...A locker...Clock? Flooralocka Clock, yeah."
I'm fucked.
"Flooralocka?" The girl wrinkles her nose, "You'll fit in with the other oddly-named girls."
"Other oddly named girls?" I'm more intruiged by the fact that she believes that my name was Flooralocka.
I mean...really?
Flooralocka?
Flooralocka Clock?
"So...err...who are you?"
"Octavia Clarence. OC to my friends." Okay...
I'm no parent, but Octavia is a worse name than Flooralocka.
And Flooralocka isn't even a real name.
"Okay..." I keep a big fake smile plastered on my face, "And where am I?"
Oh no, she's looking at me like I'm an idiot...
What should I do?
Okay, her idiot-stare is getting worse.
Apparently dancing the Macarena is NOT a good thing to do under pressure.
"You're in High School!" She exclaims, after a while.
"Uh..."
"FANFICTION High School!"