So here’s how it kinda happened. It might not have happened exactly like this but whatever, that doesn’t matter. It’s close enough and it’s a good story, so just deal with it. I woke up from my sleep with a desperate, roaring, aching, painful, awful, painful, terrible, painful, aching ache in my heart. It hurt so much, like I’d been stabbed or something. Had I been stabbed? Perhaps. By a dagger made of heartbreak and crying.
My name is Allyss(It’s pronounced the same as Alice, just so you know). Allyss Teardrop. I sighed a sigh and got out of bed, walking over to my wardrobe and looking at all my clothes. I put on a low-cut dress, with my tight skinny jeans (blue) underneath the dress for extra cool. I had my old sneakers as well, they belonged to my deceased father when he was a child a long time ago, and he’d passed them on to me when I turned ten years old. I looked at myself in the mirror and decided I didn’t like it, so I took off the dress and put on a turtleneck sweater as well. It was bright green. I kept on my sneakers because they went with any outfit at all. After I decided I liked that I took my tiara out of a case and put it on my head. It sparkled. I looked at myself in the mirror and checked myself out. I have plain features, or that’s what I thought anyway. A lot of people tell me I’m staggeringly hot. I had long tresses of chestnut-mahogany hair with ruby-coloured highlights that shone like a million rays of sunlight whenever I walked out of the shade. My face was the shape of teardrop, just like my namesake, and my skin was like a baby’s bottom, except for a ridiculously disgusting vile pimple on my chin, about a centimetre to my left side of my face from the centre (that means that when you look at me, it looks like it’s on the right side). There always seemed to be at least one pimple. I hated it, since the day I was born. The pimples stopped me from being beautiful, I knew it. Maybe that was why he didn’t like me.
After breakfast I slid down the stair-handle and walked out the front door to go to school, but I didn’t want to because he was there, and if he was there that meant that I’d have to face him again, which I could barely think I could stand. Not after what had happened. That fateful day (yesterday) which had ended with me in tears, crying myself to sleep before the nightmares began. I couldn’t think of anything else.
“Hey, Veronica!” I shouted with glee when I arrived at school. Veronica’s my best friend, but also my confidant, my secret keeper who I can tell all my darkest secrets.
Someone bumped me and I fell to the ground before grazing my knee on the concrete. I turned in anger and jumped up to my feet. “Hey!” I exclaimed.
“What?” answered Claudia, my arch-nemesis and the reason for my heartbreak. She had thin straggly hair and about a million times as many ugly zits as I did.
“Skank!” I cried in fury. “Why’d you push me over?”
“I didn’t push you over!” she sneered, and walked away. I watched her walk away and steal some food from a kid in a younger grade.
“I’ll kill her!” I challenged.
“She’s a bitch, don’t worry about her,” offered Veronica apologetically. “Let’s just go to class.”
“Okay,” I conceded.
“Hey, what’s that?”
“What’s what?” I inquired.
“You’ve got blood on your shirt!”
“What?!” It was true! I looked down and saw a spot of crimson life staining the front of my turtleneck sweater. “Oh no!” I sniffed. “Wait. Can you smell that?” I leaned closer to the stain and sniffed deeply, and then I laughed. “It’s only tomato paste!”
“What?” doubted Veronica.
“I had tomato paste and ravioli for breakfast!” I shrieked in mirth.
“Are you sure it’s not blood?” Veronica asked worriedly.
“No, this is definitely tomato paste,” I responded wisely. We went to class.
My maths teacher is mean. He wrote a really hard sum or equation or whatever it’s called on the board and told us to do it, scratching his fingers down the board as he did so just to make it more difficult to concentrate on the sum. I’m the top maths person in the class so I was able to do it, but he didn’t even congratulate me when I told him. And then I saw him. It was lunch, and my lost love walked by. He walked up to me.
“Hi Allyss!” he smiles with that amazing, handsome, beautiful smile. His teeth were as white as paper. For a moment my heart beat so fast I thought he’d be able to hear it, and I couldn’t slow it down.
“Kane Jean-Paul Tansei,” I breathed. “Hi.”
I couldn’t help but forgive him. I could never hate him. On the spot, right there and then, I knew that I would love him forever.
This is the story of Allyss Teardrop and Kane Jean-Paul Tansei. It has many chapters and many adventures, and I can tell you now that they’re all true. Cross my heart and hope to die. So read on, dear reader, and if you don’t like it then you obviously have no taste. Enjoy!!!!!!