I'm The Good Girl, He's The Bad Boy. Your Typical Story...Nope
17 Years Old.
That's who I am. I was gonna start off this story by saying 'Hi, my name is Annabelle Smith and I'm 17 years old, blah, blah, blah' but that's too ordinary and boring. But I guess in a way I am ordinary and boring. I have brown hair with brown eyes so dark they could be mistaken for black and along with that I have pale skin. Whatever I do, where ever I am I can never get a tan. Sunblock is useless for me but I don't wanna go to a tanning salon. Tanning your skin artificially can cause you skin cancer. Very bad in my opinion.
School's horrible. I get made fun of by the 'populars' the people who 'supposedly' rule the school. The cheerleaders aka the sluts hate me because I'm not like them, sleeping around with anything that has a dick. The jocks aka the manwhores tease me because of my ordinariness, because I don't obey to their every will and power. Another reason, they probably make fun of me is because I have one friend and get straight A's. My grades are really good, I never disobey a teacher, and I always have my work turned in on time. The only people who actually like me at school would have to be the art freaks (because I painted a mural for them last year), my best friend Matt (I saved him from getting cooties back in kindergarten), and the staff (because I never cause trouble). The lunch ladies love me so much that they give me an extra piece of lemon meringue pie. The teachers understand when I tell them some jock or slut stole my homework for revenge. They just give me an extra day. It might sound unfair but hey I didn't ask for that stuff. It just came to me.
To my parents, I'm the perfect daughter. I'm their only child so they like to spoil me. My mom is very erratic and childlike. She's the teenager in our mother-daughter relationship while I'm the mother. My dad's the guy that keeps our household in well in one big piece. He's there when mom accidentally set the microwave on fire or when she accidentally broke off the refrigerator's doors. My dad and I are there for my mom. My mom's an art freak, you cay say. She own a gallery here in New York City, very popular for the paintings she houses. All of them are painting she tells us inspired by my dad and I that she painted. My dad's the owner of La Bella Italia, a popular Italian restaurant that brings in many famous people from all around the world. I can speak Italian fluently since my dad is form Italy, La Bella means the beautiful and Italia means Italy so the translation comes to The Beautiful Italy. I love my family. I can't say I have all these family problems where my mom's a whore and my dad's a drunk because that's untrue. In a way my life is perfect, just the way it is.
Until someone enters it.