Good things rarely seem to happen to good people, no matter what others think. How else would I be stuck in a run-down truck, moving to a house in who-knows-where? And I most certainly am not looking forward to it. Not at all in the slightest. To make matters worse, I'm moving here just in time for fifth grade. Which is the most important grade of Elementary School.
Why? Well, by then everyone's about to go to Middle School. And in order to have a chance of being popular there, you need to make a good impression here. And my problem is that nobody's going to know me there, so it's going to be even harder.
There's also the fact the School District can't even spell. It's not Elementary School, it's 'Skool'.
It's not Middle School, it's 'Middel Skool'.
It's not High School, its 'Hi Skool'.
Seriously, how can the 'Skools' be good if they're so obviously misspelled? I didn't even get a say in moving here! My mom and dad wanted a break from the city, and moved into an even worse area then we already lived in! I'm not even sure if the town's got a name.
Well, I suppose I should stop letting my mind wander and focus on the present. The road is bumpy. Really, really bumpy. It's making the truck go up and down at an uncomfortable rate. I hate it.
But then again, I pretty much hate everything right now.
"Danielle, what are you thinking?" my dad's voice seems to go through one ear and out the other. I'm really not in the mood to talk. But then again, I never answer to that question. It's so stupid how adults seem to want to pry into your mind all the time.
"Danielle! Answer me please," he says again. I shake my head, but know that nobody can tell.
"I'm thinking about how stu-exciting this is," I half-heartedly mumble. My mom looks at me with a smile.
"Honey, we're here!" She exclaims.
I can already tell that this is going to be absolutely horrible. I can also tell that I'll just have to deal with it.
I step out of the car, and look ahead of me. I see a cute little blue house that I'm assuming is ours.
"Well, let's get to the house! Everybody, follow me," we pass a multitude of nice houses in all shapes and sizes until we get to a grayish brown one. It's shaped like an upturned brick with a yellow 'roof', though to call if a roof was quite an overstatement. It was more like a slab.
An ugly, yellow slab on a gray-brown brick. What in the world did I do to deserve living in such a horrible place?
"So, this is it?" I ask flatly. My parents nod in unison.
Perfect. Just great. I'm stuck living in this pathetic excuse for a house.
"Let's get settled in!" My mom chirps, and I (unenthusiasticly) walk inside. There are boxes. Tons and tons of boxes.
"Your room's upstairs, go unpack and decorate it as you please," my dad tells me, so I head up the stairs. They're pretty creaky. It's like living in some kind of a stereotypical haunted house. If you somehow couldn't tell, I hate it.
I start to rip the tape off of the boxes.
"Die. Die. Die, tape! Burn in hell!" I yell to it.
In case you're worried about how I'm talking, think back to when you were a fifth grader. Don't you remember those kids who went around saying 'Shit' like nobody's business?
If you wonder, I could be classified as one of them.
Too bad there isn't a fireplace to burn the tape.
There's already a mattress with a sheet set up on the floor. I pile all of the blankets and pillows that I have access to onto it. Bam! I have a magazine-worthy bed! Then, I take one off and spread it on the floor. I suddenly have a rug.
I'm done with my work, and squeak back downstairs. There's nothing to do. I sit on the floor. The floor's hard, I'm feeling that sitting on it was a bad idea.
"Hey, Mom, Dad, can I go outside? I wanna meet friieendss!" I put on a fake-cherrful tone.
"Sure!" My mom tells me. So I do. Making friends is not on my mind. Just getting out of the house is.
I decide to take a walk, and I eventually get to a place labeled City Park. So we moved from a city to get away from the city, only to go to another city. That's some perfect logic there.
The park's likely to suck as much as the rest of the city, but I go in anyway. A boy about my age rushes to me.
"Hi! Are you new around here? What grade are you gonna start? I'm starting fifth! School begins tomorrow! Are you excited?" He asks excitedly.
"Yes, Fifth, and no," he seems a bit disappointed by my last answer.
"Also, you never gave me your name," I add.
"Oh, yeah, sorry! My name's Leaf! Well, it's actually spelled L-E-E-F. It's a family thing. What's yours?"
"Dan."
"But you look like a girl!"
"It's short for Danielle. And, what do you mean about your name being a 'Family thing'?" I say.
"Well, my great-great-great-great-I dunno how many greats-grammpa was named Deef. He liked it, so he named his son Jeef, who named his son Keef, who named his son-"
"I get the point. But thanks for answering. Do you know anyone else?" Leef nods.
I wonder if there were any daughters in his family. What did they do with them if they had them. Throw them on a doorstep with a note saying that they had to be taken care of? That sounds lame. I suppose that I'll have to ask him later.
For now, I'm just going to try and survive meeting others. Especially if any of them are like Leef.
Woo-Hoo! Chapter one already has 1,072 words in it. As you can tell, this is obviously appropriately tagged as horror. Don't worry, it's going to live up to that soon! And this, my friends, is a Next-Gen fic on steroids.