Introvert

Chapter One

Note To Self: If you stutter too much during a presentation, Mrs. Pethtle will let you email her a typed up copy instead.

....

I could tell you the story of my high school experience. Of having no friends, being a social outcast, and then suddenly,

A boy

His name was Jasper, and he was the jock who I'd been crushing on since I was in kindergarten. He saw me in a corner, reading, because that's not cliché at all.

None of that was cliché at all.

None of that was true either.

There's no boy.

I'm not going to get swept off my feet and be saved by one person who, let's be honest, I probably won't see ever again.

Am I the only one that wonders what happens after the book? What happens after the boy saves the girl? What happens after the spontaneous and quite unbelievable epiphany that happens to the young girl?

The truth? High school romances almost never last. The couple probably fought over something stupid like their future together. The girl got too clingy, the boy ended up cheating, and both of the teens ended up broken.

Yes, as terrible as that sounds, that's closer to the truth than happily ever after.

You may now think that I'm a pessimistic and depressed, low-life that doesn't believe in love.

However,

I'd be lying if I said that I didn't wish that something like that could happen.

And that it would happen to me.

My name is Corona. Yes, like the alcoholic beverage. My dad named me after his favorite drink.

It was either that or Bud Light.

Shockingly enough, he doesn't live with us anymore. He's in rehab. Go figure.

On a happier note, I have a brother who insists that I'm actually really social, and that I just refuse to communicate. And although that may be true, I disagree, because we're siblings and isn't it typical for siblings to argue?

My goal, if you were wondering, which I'm almost positive you weren't , is to make my life as cliché as possible. Maybe then I'll get the cliché happily ever after.

Until then, I'll be the typical sibling. I'll be the typical 'damsel in distress'... well, with a few awkward quirks and touches.

"C'rona," my brother, Mike, (yes, like Mike's Hard Lemonade) says while knocking on my door. I stuff my book away in a drawer. "It's open," I mumble.

He walks in, his tall figure towering over me, the small girl in the beenbag chair. "Alex and I are going to a party tonight. And I want you to come," he explains, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

A party? I mentally puke at the thought of couples grinding up against each other in corners, garbage and alcohol covering the floor. Well, at least that's what a typical party would look like.

"Why? I'm not 'socially active'," I say adding air quotes with my fingers, "and I doubt you want your little sister at a party." Mike sighs in return. "Move over."

I scoot over slightly, as Mike sits beside me. "Ronnie, you're my little sister. That means, I'm your older brother who has to protect you from bad things. So, explain to me how I'm supposed to protect you if you don't do anything ever?" he says, slightly annoyed.