The Liars

Meet me, Tyler Tucker

This is my second story, the first one is on hold for the time being. I started this story after watching an episode of the Lying Game, but please do not think it is a copy! The characters may be a little bit the same, but I promise it will be completely different! 

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       Chapter 1

Ever since the day I was born, I never had a normal life. I was born on August 31st, 1995 right onto the floor of the local Target. My mom was buying some pain killers to ease the pregnancy pains, although now that I think about it I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to use drugs, when all of a sudden she went into labor with me. And so she named me Tylenol, a one hundred percent guarantee that I would be teased all throughout my life. In kindergarten, I didn’t care because I didn’t even know what Tylenol was. So when my teacher called out ‘Tylenol Tucker!’ I called out a loud ‘here!’ provoking the laughter of the kids in the classroom.

               In grade school I decided to have a fresh start, and would interrupt the teacher before they could finish saying my name, and announcing that I went by Tyler. Only my mom relentlessly called me Tylenol, which I could live with. In the third grade, my dad left us. I didn’t understand it at first, but I was too young to understand what was going on. I never saw him after that. When my dad left, my mom started to fall apart. She would cry constantly, forget to pack my lunch, or sometimes forget to pick me up from school. I would wait for hours before one of the teachers would drive me home to an empty home with no power, because nobody had paid the electricity bill. I became independent from that day on; I paid the bills, fixed the meals, walked to and from school, and took care of the house. Sometimes my mom would be okay, and she would take me out for a movie or out to dinner. Those were the days I loved the most. She would tuck me into bed, and lie with me until I would fall asleep. On the night before my thirteenth birthday, I had a sleepover with my best friend Sasha. My mom drove me over to her house, gave me a hug and said goodbye. I never realized that she was saying good-bye to me forever. I stayed with Sasha for a month, but eventually I left and was forced into too many foster homes to count. Something would always happen though; I would get the blame for something, one thing would go wrong, and I was kicked out to find another family that would take me in. If only I could have a fresh start, with a normal name, normal parents, and a normal life.

“I’ll show you your bedroom,” Jack, my new brother (for now), said with a grin. I rolled my eyes, dragging my bag up the carpeted stairs. The house seemed pretty nice to tell the truth, definitely better than most of the places I had stayed in before. Jack stopped abruptly, causing me to smack into his back.

               “You could have warned me,” I grumbled while rubbing the bridge of my nose. 

               “What’s the fun in that?” He replied. I sighed, and stepped into the room we had stopped in front of. It was normal sized, a nice bed set up already, a wooden desk near the window, and a TV hung against the pale painted wall. Not bad. I dropped the bag onto the floor and sunk down on the bed.

               “Thanks for showing me up, I’m going to change my clothes and unpack so...” I said, hinting for him to get out ASAP.

               “I wouldn’t mind helping you undress,” he said hopefully. I fought the urge to shudder. “I think I got it.” I replied, motioning him for him to leave. Before he turned around, he glanced up towards the wall, and then retreated out. I shut the door, breathing a sigh of relief. Finally, some peace and quiet. I dragged the desk chair over to where the TV was on the wall, and stepped up, locating a small but noticeable camera. I waved into the lens, and dropped it onto the floor, crushing it with the heel of my shoe. After carefully inspecting the bathroom and shower, I stripped off my clothes and jumped inside, scrubbing away the sweat and dirt from the past two days. It never felt so good to be clean. I turned the water off, and stepped out of the shower while towel drying my hair. I peered into the mirror at my long brown hair and blue-green eyes. My mom always said that we had the same ocean like eyes, and so I always thought they were my best feature. The rest of me was plain and boring. Pale pink lips, normal weight, and average sized feet.  My cheeks always had a pink flush to them, which was especially noticeable whenever I was nervous or embarrassed. The thing I noticed, however, was that I was in desperate need of a haircut; my bangs were constantly in my eyes. I padded over to the desk and opened the drawers. Bingo. I grabbed the scissors and went to the mirror again. I snipped back the ends of my bangs and fluffed them up a little. So much better. I threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and pulled my old and battered laptop from my bag and booted it up. I logged onto my Face Book account and updated my status.

              “Another day, another family.” Immediately, I got a message from Sasha, asking how it was. I told her all about Jack and my room and the camera I found. She invited me out for coffee later and I accepted, and she logged off. Suddenly, I felt lonely in this new house filled with silence. I logged off of my account and opened Google and typed in the University of Los Angeles. I knew that I won’t be able to go there, because I barely have enough money to buy myself clothing. But I could still dream, couldn’t I? I saw a page that looked like an interest club, and there were a long list of names from Arizona, where I lived now, and in California. I limited the search to people with my GPA and age, and the list became shorter. I spent my time looking up all the people interested to see who my competition was, so I knew who I would be up against. The next name, Sophia Montgomery, was the last on the list of names of girls interested. I sighed, and looked her up, prepared to see another perfect girl who would definitely be accepted. Probably a horseback rider, tutor, volunteer to the local soup kitchen and spent her summer in Africa building schools. Her facebook profile showed up on the search, and I clicked on the link—completely unaware of what I would see next. It was me.