Every Fan Fiction Ever Written (Part 1)

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I hit the alarm clock and woke up, in that order. I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and put on a nice outfit. It was the first day of school, but everyone knew each other, so it’d be just like any other day of school, plus a few new transfers maybe, but probably not, because nothing interesting ever happens in this town.

I sit down and stare at a mirror. In the mirror, I see the image of myself, 5′ 4” tall, with beautiful blond hair and enthralling blue eyes. I’m not very attractive at all. I turn to my desk and begin writing in my diary. I want to go to college and become a writer, so I figured I’d start with a diary.

Dear Diary,

My name is Mary Sue Smith. I’m an extremely white girl with long blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, but I’m not attractive at all…

I glance over at the mirror a second time, just to make sure that’s actually what I look like. Yup, definitely that. 

Through unfortunate circumstances, I have to live with my stepfather and stepmother. They both seem to hate me, but I’m pretty sure they’re only keeping me for all those sweet, sweet tax rebates. I wish someone could come and save me. Perhaps Zack from the band, Starstrike. I have his picture on my wall. OMG, he is so hot that I am in love instantly. But a girl like me would never run into the boy of my dreams in this little town where nothing ever happens ever.

I finish my thoughts on the page and head downstairs. My stepfather is standing there with an angry look on his face.

“Why have you not made breakfast yet?” he angrily demanded.

“I just got up. I’ll make it now.”

“Shut up!” He screamed, “You’re stupid, and ugly, and a poopy face!”

He grabs a nearby bat and starts hitting me with it. Blood splatters across the walls as he caves in my skull, and breaks both my legs.  But more importantly, he cripples me emotionally. After he’s done I get up and make his breakfast, limping the whole time. I go to the downstairs bathroom and clean up all the blood. There you go, like new.

As I walk out the door, I pass my stepmom. She chucks a beer can at my head before the door closes. Oh great, now I smell like beer. My teacher will think I was drinking!!!! FML. 

I sigh on my way to school. In truth, school wasn’t much better than home. I didn’t have very many friends and I didn’t get along well with anyone else but the teachers. My 4 closest friends approach me. They are the obscenely rich and beautiful Jessica, the quiet and well-mannered Sara, and the kooky and fun Jane. The fourth was my childhood friend, an attractive boy whom ever since last year started opening doors for me, looking at me when he doesn’t think I notice before turning away blushing, and offering me flowers. I wonder what’s up with him? His name is Mark.

“Are you okay, I see you have a slight limp?” Mark asks, concerned about my well-being.

“My step parents broke my legs again.” I complain.

“Yikes!” The girls all sympathize, “You really should get out of that situation.”

I agree with them, but there isn’t much I could do. Mark offers to let me stay with his family, but I politely decline. He was probably just feeling sorry for me. Jessica offers to buy me a house with all her money, but I decline that too, because I don’t like free handouts. I have to martyr this pain and suffering on my own, or my name isn’t Mary Sue. 

As we walk to class, a bitchy, angry girl walks up. She has blonde hair and blue eyes too, but even blonder and even bluer than mine. She’s the most popular girl in school. Everyone loves her.

“Hey, move it you disgusting brat!” she screams in a harpy-like voice.

All her friends nod up and down, agreeing with her open and unrelenting bullying without a second thought.

“I’m sorry…” I respond, lowering my eyes and just hoping she goes away.

“You should be!” she screeches, slapping me before walking past, an act ignored by all the teachers.

The bully leans over and spits a loogie on the floor, grabbing her crotch and straightening her underwear before stalking off. Everyone in the school looks at her with love and adoration. Why do girls like her get all the popularity? My four close friends comfort me in my utter lack of popularity.

I head off to class, and that’s when I see him. He’s the new kid. He’s hot. Like really hot. Like so hot. His hair is brown. I think, but like hot brown. Did I mention he’s hot. Like on a scale to 1-10, he’d be hot. That’s how hot. On top of that, he’s in the chair next to me. Why me? I can’t be next to a hot guy like him. I’m so unlucky… somehow.

“Today, you’re grouping up to the hot guy next to you!” the old, wrinkly, decrepit 28 year old teacher explained.

I groaned as all the other girls gave me sharp, evil looks. Why am I so unlucky? To make matters worse, the guy won’t stop looking at me. What is he interested in me or something? That wouldn’t be it. It must be because I smell or something.

Even though the subject is brand new, I do so good on it that I impress the new hot guy. He of course knew all the answers somehow, so we both chuckled as the other kids struggled on the assignment we blasted through quickly. Like that, the class came to a quick end. 

“Oh yes,” the old, old, gross aged teacher added, “Next week the school is having a dance, and we’ve invited the band Starstrike! You know, the one with that Zack kid!”

The boy next to me seemed to stiffen. Did he know Zack? Doesn’t matter, Zack’s coming! Maybe there is something nice in my horrible and miserable and unfortunate life.

I leave the classroom and head home after only finishing the one class. As I go, a bunch of boys declare their undying love for me, but I ignore them. They probably confused me with someone else. Why do they have to do that kind of stuff all the time? It’s so embarrassing! My life just sucks!

When I get home, step dad beats me again and breaks my arms before making me take out the trash. He’s so demanding! However, I do it with a smile because I know Zack is coming to my school. I know nothing is going to happen to change my situation, but I’m still happy anyway. I go to sleep, eager for the next day.

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