My Catastrophic Life

Prologe:

HEY, HEY, HEY! So, here's the Prologue of my new story! BTW, it's only rated PG-13 because of violence and cuss words. No, the language isn't that bad. I'm no horrible person. I hope you like it!

Please vote, comment! Let me know what you think!

ENJOY!

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Prologue:

A little over four years ago:

"Nikki Connelly."

There it was. The moment of fate. Well, okay, not really. It was just graduation. But, it was “high school” graduation. I mean, come on. I was, surprisingly terrified; where usually, I'm just like, 'Eh whatever. Nothing to fret over.

Humph. Is that so?

So, anyway, there I was in my little get-up. Yay, I thought sarcastically to myself. Welp, here goes nothing.

I take a deep breath, and plaster a broad smile on my face, trudging in the direction of the principal.

Or so I thought.

I felt something tugging at my gown a moment too late. I could hear the sound of fabric tearing. Suddenly, my feet flew out from under me and I was heading in the direction of a very "friendly" confrontation with the floor. I screamed as I tried to catch myself, only to make matters worse.

I landed with a hard thud against the tiled stage, ending up in an uncomfortable position. My little cap came lose off my head, but it hadn't fallen off.

Yet.

Abruptly, the auditorium erupted in "an attempt to stay surreptitious" laughter. I heard a deep, taunting roar of laughter behind me, along with lots of snickers and giggles. But, I knew that laughter. And the owner of that laughter? He's a dead man.

Say goodbye to your reputation, Nik, I thought skeptically to myself. Say farewell, sweetheart.

I could feel the heat of my face increasing furiously by the second.

In an attempt to get up, I end up getting tangled up in my probably shredded gown, and begin flailing around, trying to set my hands free so I could stand up.

Haaa... Not working!

Finally, I at least manage to sit up for what seemed to have been utter eternity. I turn to the person behind me, who is currently doubled-over in laughter (actually, he should be doubled-over in pain, because of a foot coming in contact with his precious), and glare at him.

Chase Danielson, prepare your death bed.

Chase stands up straighter, clutching his stomach, tears watering up his intensive green eyes from laughing so hard. His gaze catches one of my daggers, and he coughs a couple of times, then clears his throat awkwardly.

Smirking, he strolls over to me and offers me his hand. I glare at it, shaking my head stubbornly. "I don't need your help." I try to push myself up only to get my foot caught in my stupid gown, causing me to fall flat on my face, and also causing another semi-laughing fit from Chase, and the rest of the population in the room.

Chuckling still, he reaches down and pulls me to my feet. Standing there, my blush deepens as I realize what just happened.

Oh my God. Why me?!

My blush deepens even more, if that's even possible, when I realize Chase's arm is still wrapped around my waist. I frantically push him away, almost causing myself to fall over again. Luckily, though, I manage to steady myself in time.