Disclaimer: Still not mine...I totally wish it were, though. That would be awesome.

Chapter 1

Waking up for the first day of eighth grade wasn't any different than waking up for the first day of seventh grade. I got dressed in the same clothes, I put on the same shoes, I ate the same oatmeal, I snuck down the same, good ol' fire escape, and I rode the same skateboard. And maybe my stomach was a little fluttery, but not very. Overall, it was your typical morning in the Life and Times of Sammy Keyes.

But Marissa. When I saw her waiting for me on the steps of the school, she was already in full-fledged McKenze dance. I could tell that her thumbnail was probably gone already. I grinned and jogged over to her. She spotted me and dropped her hand from her mouth with a squeal. "Can you believe it! We are eighth graders!" She jumped up and down a bit, then stopped and eyes the ground because she has just realized that jumping up and down like that is really childish.

While she's rambling on about how cool it is to be in the eighth grade, I'm looking around, because I know that there is one person there who I am not going to be able to avoid.

And then I see her. The Queen of Cruelty. The Mistress of Mean. Not to mention the Empress of Lame Jokes. With her two flunkies right behind her. And, lucky me, she's headed right my way.

Good ol' Heather. She's one of those people you can depend on to never, ever, change. I mean, something in junior high has to be constant and steady, right? Why not have it be your archenemy?

She looks down at my shoes and smirks. "Nice shoes, Samantha." She says. Tenille and Monet laugh like she said something funny. I vaguely remembered her saying something along those lines on the first day of school last year.

"Oh, thanks so much, Heather." I reply. Hudson had always told me to kill her with kindness, or something along those lines. It's just too bad she won't die.

Now, I don't know how she was expecting me to react. Did she really think it would upset me that she didn't like my shoes? It never had before, so if she had used her logic, I'm sure she would have thought better of the 'insult'. But she starts sputtering, and her face gets red And she just stands there like a complete idiot, trying to conjure up a good reply.

After a minute of sputtering or so, she stalks off after sending me a real dirty look. But, hey, I'm used to it. I just roll my eyes and turned back to Marissa, looking at my watch.

"Marissa, the bell's about to ring."

So off we go, to homeroom, and the whole way there people I have never met keep calling and waving to me.

"Hey Sammy!"

"How's it goin'?"

"See you later!"

And that's when I notice. Everybody is wearing high-tops. Blue, black, red, white, tons of people are wearing these brand-new high-tops. At the Farewell Dance last year, when everybody was asking me where I got mine after that whole Style award, I told them. The Thrift Store. But these obviously did NOT come from the Thrift Store. Brand spankin' new.

"Marissa...look at everybody's shoes!" I whisper.

Marissa just grins. "Face it, Sammy," she says. "People know who you are. They want to be like you. You're popular!" She is just beaming, let me tell you.

I groan and smack my palm against my forehead. "What a punishment. All of this because of the shoes I wear?"

Seriously, being popular was the absolute last thing I wanted. I had always thought popularity was dumb, and I still do.

I turn to Marissa, whose eyes are just sparkling. "That makes me popular too! This is so cool! Eighth grade is going to be the best grade ever!"

I roll my eyes for the second time that morning and walk into homeroom, thinking that Marissa was very, very wrong. With Psycho Heather on my tail and me being semi-"popular" all of a sudden, eighth grade was not going to be the "best grade ever".

A/N: Here it is! Chapter 1! Still trying to figure out what Heather is going to try to do and the main plot(I've got several ideas for that last one, but any ideas about Heather's evil plans would be welcome!)

Yeah, I know it's not very long. I wanted it to be longer, but I just couldn't come up with any ideas to lengthen it...