Amity Park. Huh.

What a dump.

The current dull, bleak weather doesn't help either, I suppose. Lots of little stores here and there. Making sure I had a firm grip on my things, I strolled through the streets. Was it just me, or did the grass seem a little longer than it should be? Come to think of it, a lot of the vegetation had that look like it had been grown out, and then viciously cut back. Kinda reminds me of when some old neighbors of mine neglected to mow their lawn for a whole year. The next summer, the grass was so high, the lawnmower croaked within thirty seconds. The machete worked, though. It was fun, using an insanely sharp, pointy object, and getting paid eight dollars an hour to use it!

Where was everyone? Sure, there were a few people walking around, but no one my age. I pulled out my phone. It was already three o'clock. According to the info I printed off the place, the high school doesn't let out 'til half an hour from now. My dad's expecting me soon. Like, real soon. Whatever.

He hasn't seen me for like, a year. He can afford to wait a little longer. I only had a few snacks on the bus, and I'm famished. Plus, I've been on a bus for three hours with no bathroom.

A bright sign caught my eye: The Nasty Burger.

Wow.

It sounds like a McDonalds, but probably more honest about the kind of food they serve there. Or, it could be a misnomer and I'm complaining about nothing when I should be going in there and getting something to eat. And now my stomach's growling loud enough for the whole block to hear it.

"Eh, screw it," I walked towards the sign, and pushed open the doors. Placing a tired smile on my face, I looked around the place: booths, a cashier dude, and-

"Bathrooms! Thank you!" I dumped everything but my purse in a booth seat, and sprinted like a mad man towards the little girls' room.

"Welcome to The Nasty Burger. What's your order?" The words spouted from his lips without even thinking, like an automated message. He looks like he either needs some coffee, or a new job altogether. I ordered a salad and some coke and sat down. My eyes, weary as they were, spotted a discarded newspaper on an unoccupied table. I snatched it and opened it up.

Ghouls attack box store.

Ghost Kid: Menace or Hero?

Mayor Masters' Ratings Through the Roof!

"Who the hell writes this crap?" I muttered, looking at the front page: Amity Park Journal. Is this an inquirer, or something? I spent the next several minutes gazing through the rag, trying to understand a few things:

They weren't kidding when they said Ghost Capital of America

There's a ghost that haunts a box store?

A teenage ghost either battles "bad" ghosts and protects the town, or is one of the "bad" ghosts, and

Either ghosts exist, or everyone who lives here is smokin' some serious shit 24/7.

At least my dad was getting some good ratings.

The salad wasn't half bad. I didn't add all the dressing on, so I won't gain fifty pounds over night, and I haven't found a single hair amongst the leaves- wait…never mind, scratch that last part.

Well, considering what I can do…perhaps the idea of ghosts isn't so crazy…

…Actually, it makes sense. I mean, I can-

"-You'd think I'd get a break after Undergrowth. I mean, can't Skulker wait until after I get out of school?"

What?

I turned my head around towards the door, where some three kids came in. The one who was ranting was pale, with raven, black hair, robin blue eyes, and skinny as a stick. Or just looks that way from where I'm standing. Is it just me, or does he look a little roughed up? Must be prime bully meat.

"Danny-" The only girl of the trio spoke, exasperation evident in her tone. Black hair, again, but damn, I'm jealous of her eyes. Who has violet eyes nowadays? No one, that's who. Well, except her. Judging by her dark attire, definitely a Goth Or what I imagine a Goth would look like, never having any in my old high school.

"-we get it," the last boy finished. African American, glasses, yellow shirt, red hat. Taking in account the PDA clutched in his hand, I would say he's a nerd. Not that's there's anything bad about that, just sayin'.

They must have just gotten out of school, which means I'll probably see them as soon as I get enrolled into the new semester.

The group ordered drinks, and made their way to the booth next to me. As the pale kid- Danny? - walked past me, he let out a small gasp. He paused in his tracks, and met my eyes. Is it just me, or could I see his breath? I realized I was staring at him, and half smiled apologetically.

"Hi. Sorry," I half raised my hand as a greeting, and then took a deep, renewed interest in the newspaper in front of me. From the corner of my eye, I watched him sit down with his friends. The Goth leaned in towards him, and spoke softly.

"Who's she?" Oh, sure. Just ignore the fact that I'm sitting less than five feet from you. Nice. I pretended like I didn't hear them, and tuned out the rest of their conversation.

Bzzzzz…Bzzzzz

Ah! I pulled a vibrating phone out of my pocket once more, and looked at the little screen:

My dad. Crap. I flipped it open.

"Hey, I was-"

"Kisha, where exactly are you?"

…That is not a good voice. That is the irritated voice that all business rivals supposedly fear. Translation: I'm screwed.

"Uh…I got hungry?" I spoke with hesitation, not wanting to start an explosion that was most likely going to occur anyway.

"It's almost four! I've been expecting you for an hour!" Really? I noticed a face clock on the wall. Oh.

Well, shit. Only one thing to do.

"I'm sorry! I got hungry! I was on a bus for the past few hours! I walked a bit! I got something to eat! The road collapsed! Ragnarok came early! I had to help a little old lady cross the street! "

All I could hear was deep breathing, the kind you hear from an angry person who's trying very hard to calm down.

"Would you like me to send a car for you? Or would you rather I come myself?" He spoke slowly, making sure he kept control of his words, "Would that help? I'll gladly-"

"I got it! I apologize. I'm leaving in a minute. First I have to throw away my garbage," here I stood up and threw away my empty container, making sure to rattle it a bit, "Now I'm finishing my drink," and I made sure to slurp loud enough so that he could hear it on the other end. Then, I put that in the gargbage.

"Now I'm grabbing my bags and putting them on my shoulders. I'm making my way to the door. Now, I-"

"KISHA!" I held the phone away from my ear, wincing.

Hearing a snicker, I glanced over my shoulder, only to see the kid with the red hat trying, and failing, to hold back laughter. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Hey!" The three looked my way, the one kid biting his lower lip, smirking.

"Somethin' funny?" I asked. I didn't hear anymore snickering.

"Kisha, are listening to me?" Oh, right. Angry dad still on phone.

"I'll be there is five minutes, okay? Seeya, bye!" I snapped it shut, and blew out a breath of air I didn't realize that I was holding. God, that man must have PMS or something. I find no other rational explanation. He needs to find a girlfriend. I pocketed my phone, and made my way to the door.

"Ahem." Now what? I swiveled around on my heels-

-only to be face-to-face with Mr. Snickerpants, who was smiling profusely. I took a giant step back. Is his hair slicked back?

"I want to apologize about before. Allow me to introduce myself." I glanced towards his friends, the Danny kid rolling his eyes.

My name's Tucker Foley. T.F. As in: too fine," he spoke smoothly.

Wow.

Well, the kid gets an A for effort, but I'm not one to miss a beat. I dazzled him with a rare, full-teethed smile. I could detect a slight smugness grow on his face.

"Hi, I'm Kisha Marie Anders. K.A. As in: Kiss My Ass," I deadpanned.

Chin drop.

Perfect.

"I'm new here," I smiled, and walked out. I could still hear laughter after the doors closed.

First impressions are always the most important.

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