A/N: I decided to update the first chapter of this story because I was worried that it was scaring people off from the rest of the story (I like to believe that it gets better). It was a little sad for me to change it though…I wrote the first chapter of this story on the back of a classmate's math homework when I was in the 8th grade. And now I am…uh…older than that. By a lot. My eventual plan is to fix up the whole story (it's amazing how plot points can disappear when it takes you over 8 years to complete a fic), but I want to finish it first.

Also if you are new to the story: the first several chapters of this story are short. They get longer, and the writing style matures as it continues. I love reviews, especially constructive comments on how to improve my story! I have no beta reader after my sister quit on me. Seven years ago.

Enjoy!

-Catty

My name is Rachel.

You know that show, Worst-case Scenario? They have nothing on the situation I was in. My friends and I are fighting alone against an alien attack. We fight the Yeerks: parasitic aliens that crawl into your brain and take control of your body. People that are controlled by Yeerks are called Controllers. They look like people, talk like people, but they have Yeerks controlling them. The Yeerks have already infested thousands of humans, in addition to the alien races they infested before they found out about the great host body opportunities here on Earth.

So what is stopping the Yeerks from taking over the entire planet? That would be me, four of my friends, and one alien teenager. My friends and I are Animorphs, that is, animal morphers. We turn into animals to fight the Yeerks.

I promise it's a lot cooler than it sounds.

Most of the time, I think that being 16 and responsible for the fate of the planet is a major problem.

But right now, I was fighting a different kind of battle.

I glared at her. She glared right back at me. And that's when I knew she was really going to do it.

"Let's see . . ." My home economics teacher said, never taking her eyes off me. "Our next pair will be Rachel and . . ." she paused for climatic effect. She knew she was killing me. Ruining my life. "Marco."

They actually had a stupid little ceremony. They did for all the other "couples" too. But of course, Marco had to humiliate me even more then I already was.

"Hey, Rachel, why didn't you wear white? Oh. . . now I remember," he said with a wicked grin as we were standing in front of the class. Our teacher had stuck a white veil like the kind they have for bachelorette parties on my head.

"You do realize I'm going to kill you for this, you little fungus?" I hissed back at him.

The home ec teacher took that as an "I do." And with that, I was officially "married" to Marco for the next week.

"So, how does it feel . . .Mom?" he said, grinning at the doll sitting in an actual baby carrier. A small pink bow was taped to her forehead to show she was a girl.

"Call me that again and I'll break both your arms." I hissed, only half kidding.

"Aww, but then how will we cuddle at-hey, ow!" he yelped as my foot connected with his knee.

They say teachers don't have favorites, and don't get revenge against their students, but, oh, my home ec teacher had really outdone herself this time. I would have to remember this in the future: do not mess with teachers. Specifically, do not comment on their clothing. Even more specific: do not offer to be their personal shoppers, because apparently, it can be taken the wrong way.

I wondered what had ever possessed me to take this class, and then remembered. Of course! I had thought it would be easy. Bake some cookies. Sew a button on a shirt or two. I had forgotten about Baby Think-It-Through.

Our school had gone about ten steps ahead of the infamous egg assignment. They had gotten actual dolls with computer chips that told if the baby had been neglected. The baby could tell when it was being held, when it was being fed, and when it was being changed. An egg wouldn't be squealing on you to the teacher if you didn't feed it. Baby Think-It-Through would. And the worse thing? You really did have to take it everywhere, or else hire a sitter, because it could start crying at any time. Hide Baby Think-It- Through in a closet so its annoying robotic crying wouldn't bother anyone? Fail the project, which was a big old hunk of our grades.

To take a little of the work load off, and also teach us to work with other people, we had also been assigned spouses.

And my teacher, that horrible, horrible person, had made me "marry" Marco.

Marco is one of my fellow Animorphs. We've been fighting battles together for 3 years now. On a good day, he can be brilliant at strategy and decent in a fight. On a bad day, he is a red ant hill that I accidently stepped on. Sometimes we get along. Sometimes we despise each other. At no time would I consider him an appropriate spouse, even in a pretend setting.

I was never going to live this down.

I slunk back to my seat. We had been assigned to sit with our partners at the two person tables that the home ec room had instead of desks. Marco sat down next to me and draped his arm across my shoulders. I elbowed him in the spleen. We spent the rest of the hour screaming at each other after I let myself get sucked into an argument about what we should name our plastic child.

When the bell rang, I shoved the carrier, diaper bag, and Baby Pain-In-Ass at Marco and hurried out of the room. "Sure, honey, you can take her next hour." He yelled after me, loud enough for anyone and everyone to hear.

I would. If I didn't, no doubt Marco would find some way to give it to me anyway. I could just imagine him bursting into my fifth hour, dumping the "baby" on my desk and saying, "She's got a stinky. Might want to take care of it."

I groaned to myself and slammed my locker shut with a bang that made all the other lockers in my row vibrate.

What had I done to deserve this?