Oh god why

Chaper One: There's No Hope for a Ghost
	"Ouch! Sam! There's tables there! Sam?"
	"Oh... I didn't... n-notice..." Sam stammered.
	"And I suppose you didn't notice the stack of papers you just knocked over... Ah well, the janitor can handle it." I sighed.

	We walked slower and slower, down the hallway, Sam completely oblivious to her surroundings, more than likely thinking about Mark Crimsmon, her crush -- and many other girls' I might add – since sixth grade. It sickened me.

	"SAM?!"

	"Hmm... Oh... yes, Karl-K-Karlie... What?"

	"Ugh! Get ahold of yourself! Sam, I think you need help, seriously." I groaned.

	"But he..." She mumbled.

	I cut her off. "Shhh! No! No more. I do not wish to here you ramble on about him any longer. Or ever again."

	She grimaced at me. "But look!" She pushed me. "He got new pants."

	"Ugh."

	"Aren't they nice, Kar? They really compliment him! It' a torture really... I mean, here I have to stare at his perfect, godlike, features, and I can't even..."

	Ramblr, ramble, ramble...

	"What's so great about him?!" I thought out loud. Quickly realizing my MAJOR mistake.... oops.

	"Everything! Are you kidding? Look at his hair, his eyes, his lips..." On she went, condeming my own, personal, hell. I didn't want to hear that.

	"Hey, Sam?"

	"Yeah...?"

	"Do you by any chance have ear plugs? I thought you might have some stored in that large mouth of yours..."

	She glared. "I'm sorry! Okay! I just like him so much. I can't help it."

	Why don't you try, trying?

	"Well here," I said, stepping out the old, rusted doors of the high school. "mayber going to the mall will help you get that troll – uh, boy – off your mind."
	"What?" she said, utterly confused. I could tell she was thinking about Mark the whole time I spoke to her.

	"Our plans?! Hell?! Earth to Sam!" I yelled.

	"Huh – oh, sorry, Karls. Well about the mall... I can't go today. My mom... anyways, I ccan't go. But we can go Sunday..."

	"What ever." I moaned, stomping away from her. Of course. Its so usual, for her to 'not be able to go'. More times than not she canceled our plans. I felt like I was loseing my best friend.

	But I refused to let myself think further on that subjext. "It's just a phase, it will pass," I forced myself to think. It will pass.

	I was too worried about the uprighht mess that I didn't realize the white, rusty, car that sat in front of me. On about the fifth honk I snapped back to consciousness. People around me snickered.

	It's grandpa! Hallelujah. Oh hear the angels sing. Blah blah blah blah blah.

	"Chuck Norris." I said as I slid into the passenger side.

	"Carl." My grandpa replied.

	Our sarcasticness is normal. My grandfather, Chuck as you might have guessed, is basically my father – or at least the closest thing I have to one. When I was born my dad left my mom. He left because 16 years ago, I popped out of the monster he had for a wife, and he couldn't handle responsibility. My mom was madly in love with him – for some treturously sickening reason – so she takes it out on my now. Im used to it, it is my fault. After all, everything bad is my fault, in her eyes at least.

	Back to reality now.

	I hate reality.

	"So what's the dealio, Sealio?" I love my grandpa's faint attempt to be funny, to cheer me up. I love his crooked tone with the matching smile, with his manifest missing teeth.

	"Grandpa, grandpa, grandpa." I humored him. "Shouldn't you know how my day goes by now? First, I enter looking absolutely beautiful, as always. Then everybody notices, screaming my name, while my many friends walk next to me, we talk about the lovely night at the ball we had. Then my boyfriend, Prince Edmund, greets me as we hop ontop of a unicorn, and fly away into the sunset." Oh how I love sarcasm.

	He just laughed, shaking his head. I love my granfather – I really do. He's about the only person I can even say that about anymore. I tell him everything, we joke together, he tells me stories... He pretty much became my only family. If I didn't have him to help me through the rough times with my mother, well I would have ended my life years ago.

	The car came to a screeching stop – which makes me laugh every time – and I hurried and ran into the house, slamming the car door behind me.

	And so, to begin the gastly afternoon at home, which is the time I dredfully hate. I normally live my life for the late, dark, nights, when everyone's asleep. That's when I can be myself, and relax for a moment.

	Ugh. My mom left a note on the refriderator.

	It reads: "CARLIE I WONT BE HOME TIL LATE TONIGHT. I EXPECT THE DISHES TO BE DONE AND THE FLOORS TO BE MOPPED BY THE TIME I GET HOME. -MOM"

	Oh, so I'm Carlie today? (My name is spelled Karly.) It's a shame, really, she's too busy to remember her daughter's name. Tomorrow I might have the honor to be 'Cleo', or 'Charlie', or maybe, maybe even 'Thomas'. Hallelujah.

	I finished my chores silently, and hurried up to my room. Good, I finished at a nice time. 9:33. Perfectly dark, which leaves my tiny room even darker, more isolated. Just the way I like it.

	I slipped into my black pajamas and bounced onto my bed for the night. Finally. I was so tired, I guess Prince Edmund was the blame for that. Ha.

	I quickly fell into a deep sleep, while tears rolled down my face. Again.

































Chapter two: Hardcore Love

	Welcome to the second day of my life that you are reading. Im sure you have found how boring and utterly pointless it is.

	If you are still reading yu must be bored yourself.

	And by this point you haven't put the book down, you must be pretty confused, or belong to a mental institution.

	Let's begin.

	I woke up confused, with crusted tears over my eyes from the previous night. My head hurt, my stomach ached. Sounds like a pretty normal morning, I would say.

	Here's how it goes, I slump out of bed, skip breakfast, brush my teeth, my hair, and get dressed.

	As I got dressed, for some odd reason I decided to stare at myself in the mirror. Even though there's absolutely nothing attractive to look at. Im plain, but very unnordinary. With my 5"6 inches, messed up "crazy" black hair, immense black eyeliner, pale skin and gross brown freckles to match, I look like a nightmare, a very ugly, freakish one. The only thing I actually like about my plain self, not to mention how skinny I am, is my eyes. They just might actually be pretty. They're brown, and kind of too big. But they're about the only thing I have that doesn't make me look like my "mother".

	As I got dressed, with my usual black skinny jeans, band T-shirt, and to top it off, black Converse sneakers, my phone rang.

	"Hell's residence. You're speaking to the freakish ghost herself."

	"Karls? Oh my gosh! You'll never guess what I heard!" I hate Same's annoying preppyness.

	"Hell froze over earth and we're all going to die? Sounds like my kind of morning."

	"Quit being so cryptic and try to cheer up! Karlie, at least try!" Sam begged.

	"You called me for...?" I pressed.

	"Oh my gosh! Mark! Rumor is around school, that he has a crush on somebody!'

	"Yip-iddy hoo-haw, yay."

	"And it's YOU!" She was irritating me by that point.

	"Seriously? You interrupted my perfect boring morning, to tell me that unwanted, sickly news?" I almost puked on her through the phone.

	"Come on Karlie, you HAVE to admit he's gorgeous."

	"Im sorry, I have a boyfriend."

	"YOU DO? Who?" She practically yelled at me.
	"Prince Edmund." I hung up the phone.

	Chuck dropped me off at school, and Sam was waiting right outside the door for me.

	"Hey." I choked.

	"Hey Karls. You will never guess what else! Mark said you're the cutest girl he's seen! And plus, he never says that about anybody. He never dates! According to him, all the girls aren't pretty enough here – except you!" She babbled at my side.

	"Well he must really need glasses."

	"Karlie you are pretty. What's your problem?" She questioned. I just dropped the conversation, and we walked to our lockers. There's no point in arguing.

	We got to our lockers and I started shoving my things in where ever I could.

	"Hey, Sam," I yelled. "Do you have the math homework from last night?"

	She ran up to me, excited over some thing. Anything excites her, really. It could of just been an acorn falling out of a tree, and she's happy about it.

	"Oh my gosh, OH MY GOSH!" She said overly excited, griining hugely. "Look who's smiling at you"! She pointed at Mark Crimsmon staring at me against the lockers. Clearly he was looking at the girl behind me. I turned back to my locker.

	"Karls, he IS looking at YOU."

	"No it's probably the air behind me that he's smiling at."

	She glared at me. "You should go talk to him."

	I tried to shrug, but instead she pushed me toward him, I almost tripped over my feet.

	The nerve she had! Ugh I could of smacked the crap out of her, But I couldn't beccause she quickly left to her next class.

	Darn her!

	I wanted to yell but I quickly lost focus. Because right in front of me, was Mark Crimsmon. He really wasn't that bad looking. I could see why girls melt to their feet when they see him. He was absolutely... gorgeous. With his blacked messed up hair, blue highlights, perfect body, beautiful eyes... he was like an emo god. He dressed very nicely, ontop of it. With his really tight red skinny jeans, Lamb of God T-shirt, and checkered Vans. The little chain on the side of his pants that drives me insane... And – oh crap!

	OH CRAP!

	Alas, he had me locked in his trap. And I couldn't get out. Yet, oddly, I didn't want to.

	He had the most beautiful smil I have ever seen... And he WAS smiling at ME! I quickly panicked. I didn't realize how close I was to him, hovering over him like an idiot.
	"Hello, Karly!" He said grinning, with his soft, velvet like voice. It sounded like it was made from an angel.

	"Umm, h-hi, Crark Mimson...."

	He glared at me, obviously confused. So I quckly panicked even more.

	"Oh crap!" I said out loud, and then I ran to my biology class like even more of a complete idiot.

	Great, the boy I finally have a crush on, LIKES ME TOO, and the first time I talk to him, I act like a complete fool.

	I scribbled down notes at my desk, waiting for the day to end.