Playing Hard to Get

Chapter 1

   Being the new kid was never easy.

   Of course, that went without saying. But really, why were people so damn stereotypical? As I walked down the corridor, I could already hear the whispers floating around each group, disecting my every move.

   I sighed. I was just wearing plain old dark-wash jeans, nearly black in color, paired with a long-sleeved striped shirt. All I had for shoes were my old Converse- much to one girl's distaste. I could hear her from here.

   "Would you look at those ratty things she has on her feet? What on Earth could possess anyone to leave the house like that?"

   Well sorry, Miss Priss. I don't want to break my neck in 6-inch hooker heels.

   My brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a look I thought was casual enough for school, yet at the same time, didn't particulary group me as anything straight away. Apparently everyone else had better ideas.

   I wasn't preppy enough for the cheerleaders, extreme enough for the punks, geeky enough for the nerds, or stoned enough for the druggies. I guess that left me with the loners, who were, you know, alone. Maybe I was just being a tad pessimistic.

  There had to be just a few normal people, who weren't stereotyped as anything. Or was that just dreaming?

   I finally found my way to my first period, and went to talk to my teacher. I was a middle-of-the-year transfer, coming in around the winter holiday season. It was late November, and already it was snowing. That's what you get in Ohio.

  But when I introduced myself to Ms. Moore, who already seemed like she was going to be a handful, she clapped her hands together in excitement.

   "So you're our new transfer! You know, this school doesn't get many new students-"

   Like that was going to make me feel better.

   "-But I have a feeling you're going to love it here." She beamed at me, as if expecting me to start jumping up and down with excitement.

  "Um..I hope so." I smiled half-heartedly, desperately needing a boost in optimism.

   Ms. Moore showed me where my seat was and gave me a book. The title read, The Scarlet Letter.

   "Have you read this before?" she asked.

   "No," I answered.

   "Perfect," she smiled. "We're just about to start."

   "Ms. Moore!" a boy came running in then. "Please extend the deadline for the project! Jayce just took my paper and-" he cut himself off, noticing me for the first time. "Who's this? I don't think I've seen you before." A grin was creeping onto his face.

   "You haven't. I'm new here," I told him, not appreciating the blatant way he was looking at me.

   "Well it's nice to meet you. I'm Sam. Sam Armstrong," he said, offering his hand in greeting. I returned the handshake hesitantly.

   "Ivy Hunt." At least I was progessing by meeting new people, even if they were immature.

   Soon enough, the bell for first period rang, at least half the class filing into the classroom late. Ms. Moore seemed lenient for a teacher, doing nothing but sighing and telling everyone to take a seat.

   ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

   On my way to lunch, I had to stop by my locker. I was too busy too notice my name in conversation for a minute, until heard a familiar voice say,