Thalia Hart. Me. A person. Normal black hair. Normal blue eyes. Normal legs, arms, and feet. What makes me special? Nothing as far as im concerned. Im only 13. Then how come im always getting in trouble? I don't do anything wrong. Things just seem to happen around me. Like when the chalkboard got pushed over and I was standing by it sharpening a pencil. When a dog once followed me to school and came into the building I got blamed. When I was sitting in my chair strait and doing nothing whatsoever. The teacher walks by and trips on a bump on the floor and blames me. Why? I don't know. I guess mainly because of my, no more like my family's, reputation. Apparently my great grandfather on my dads side twice removed killed someone or other. Does that mark me as a killer? As far as I know the only thing I've killed is a couple of flies.
I live in a very small town in Georgia called Henning Mill. And just in case you were wondering there is NO mill anywhere around here for miles. I think that was the name of the founder or something like that. Kind of pathetic huh? Everyone has at least five acres of land. My family has 15 but I don't think that there is anything wrong with that personally.
I have one older brother Charlie whose 16 and a younger brother Tucker whose 11. They both have blonde hair like my mom and green eyes like my dad. I happen to thirteen and the only girl in the house because my mom left when I was 2. I have no remembrance of her at all though dad says that she was very nice and pretty. I must take after dad 'cause I'm NOT pretty but I'm not ugly either. Dad has black hair and green eyes. He works as a professor at a small college near here.
I'm not the only one who has problems in the house. Tucker has a dog, Ranger a German Shepard, who likes to dig holes in neighbors yards and they blame him for it. Charlie has gotten in trouble with a farmer before when he went cow tipping with some guys. We have been marked as trouble makers.
I guess its time to start this story.
It was a fine Autumn morning I was walking out the door to school, Tucker was just ahead of me jumping around with his dog. It had rained yesterday and there were puddles everywhere. I was avoiding them as much as possible so I didn't get any mud on my favorite pants and hoodie. We waited at the end of the driveway for the bus with Ranger splashing in puddles with Tucker.
The bus appeared on the hill. I called to Tucker and he shooed Ranger away. We waited for the bus to stop and got on. There were only two people on so far. Jodi Hill, a stuck up 8th grader, stared at me coldly. George Moore was ignoring us completely ( His dad owned the cows Charlie tipped). Tucker and I avoided their gaze and sat down near the front of the bus. Once we reached school we split up him going to the sixth grade building and I towards the 7th grade. I went to my homeroom and sat down. My teacher walked in sniffed disgustedly in my direction and walked back out of the room. I sighed knowing the long day that awaited me.