Hot Or Not, You're Still A Stalker

Chapter 1

“You do know how cliché this is, right Mom?” I pleaded, trying to buy myself a couple more seconds in the safe haven that was my old yellow Bug. “The new girl in town goes to high school… It’s been done a thousand times before. But you know what hasn’t?” I spread my arms, making a headline in the air. “New girl jets back to home town to finish junior year! Whadda you think?”

Ignoring my big saphire blue puppy eyes, my mother rolled her eyes and walked away. “Good luck at school darling.” Thanks a big one, Mother, I thought bitterly.

“Don’t worry, sis,” my older brother Tyson rumbled cheerfully, sliding in the passenger side. “I’ll come with you.”

“Like you have a choice,” I shot back, reluctantly pulling out into our freakishly long new driveway. “Let’s face it bro; you’ll probably be back next year too.” He turned to glance at me; his scrutinizing eyes watch my head.

“Hey you have a hair sticking up right,” he drew the word out, “there.” Before I could question him, he started ruffling my hair so that the silky straight brown locks (that had taken me an hour to get, mind you) were puffed and knotted.

“Tyson!” I shrieked, slamming on the brakes. Getting mild satisfaction out of him being thrown backwards into the door, I reversed back to the house. “Go get my hairbrush, you prick!” Sending me a wink, he leapt out to comply. “Tyson,” I sighed. My brother and I were always doing this – messing with each other until one of us was thoroughly pissed.

“Here you go, sister dearest,” he cooed teasingly, working the lumps himself, knowing I was hopeless on my own. Hissing at the slight pain, I sent him a quick grin and drove away.

“Ty,” I whispered as I glared fearfully at all of the people standing in the courtyard. “Dude I don’t want to do this.”

“Me neither,” he responded truthfully. “I’m scared stiff.”

“Somehow that doesn’t help me…” He laughed and took the first step: opening the car door and walking around to get mine. “Thanks,” I mumbled as he got our bags, slinging them both over one shoulder.

“Ty,” I said anxiously when I saw all these people start staring at the two new kids. “Make it stop.”

“You’ll be fine, Marilan,” he promised, wrapping a comforting arm around my tiny shoulders. “Maril,” he grinned at the nickname that I’ve come to hate. At age two, Marilan was too big of a word for Ty (and yet Maril was just fine…?). So, his brilliant solution; Maril – and it just kinda stuck. Nowadays, it just makes me feel like a little kid.

“Thanks Ty.” Scooting closer to his side to hide from prying eyes, I gave a hard glare to a group of guys we walked by. Ty followed my gaze to them, saw what they were staring at, and flipped them off. Gasping, I hid my face in his jacket, only wishing I had half the guts he had.

“Hey Ty? You got our registration papers from the car, right?” One glance at his guilty face told me that answer. “I’ll wait at the door, alright?”

“Are you sure you’ll be ok, Maril?” I laughed gently at his rarely-there protective side and stepped away from the towering blondie that was my brother. With his bright brown eyes and six foot three frame, we didn’t look related in the slightest. We were closer than most siblings, however, which resulted in the ever-so-awkward question ‘is he your boyfriend?’ to get asked much more than it should have been.

“Sure,” I said dismissively, waving him away. “Now get out of here kid; you're embarrassing me.” Walking away from him before he could me, I tried my best to look confident and not like I was about to puke. It was truly moments like these that I was really self-conscious of my frame. At five and a half feet tall, I was mostly legs (something I was constantly reminded of when I tripped over stuff… a lot…) and was ‘blessed’ (this is according to my mother) with a very, er, full chest – something that wasn’t particularly characteristic to skinny people.