Something I`ve been typing

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Okay, so I`ve been working on this half-novel thing. I had always wanted to get into the mind of a teenager who didn`t have the best hand dealt to her, but made the best of it any way.

I guess this is what I got. I`ll continue to add to it, and feedback.comments are greatly appreciated.

( note: this is NOT a true story, anyone resembling someone you know is probably coincidence, only two characters are based off real people. )  

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This is the introduction, I guess. This also has no name, if you think anything would work here, please feel free to tell me

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When I was nine, my world turned upside down. Many years later, I am still lifting the sharp fragments off the earth. At nine years old, my father retired from his job as a Navy man. I was beyond happy he was out of the line of duty. I was also excited to be able to have my father at birthdays and milestones of mine. Boy, I was wrong.

I moved to a sleepy town a few blocks away from an elementary school. My house was well kept by the previous owners, aside from the interior. The living room walls were papered an atrocious green and yellow splattered pattern, some of it was sponged on by the old woman before us; the bathroom was half finished, and adorned with similar paper. Our dining room had a fireplace in it, with a broken grate; the kitchen needed new cabinets and oven. The washer/dryer hallways was right in front of the three bedrooms, making passage difficult without people knowing exactly where you were, the bedrooms themselves were decent though.

The room that is occupied by my parents is at the northwestern part of our house. It is large, with a double-sliding-door closet along the far left wall. My mother took the left door, and my father used the right side. A television and DVD player took the corner across the door and the bed was placed along the wall, right next to the door. This room is also placed directly next to the bathroom, adjoining walls and everything.

Taylor`s room was in the middle of the back hall. She used the walls to tack up random things, such as puzzles, wrappers, old photos, and who knows what else. Her bed is nearly dead center along the back wall, and the door is almost always closed. She has a walk-in closet which has a normal door on the right wall. She also has two bookshelves full to the brim with books, used notebooks and several of my books.

Right at the corner turn to see the washer and dryer set up is a bland white door with peeling paint. Behind that door is a sea blue-green ladder that leads to a bed with purple, pink and white sheets. The head of the bed has a pink pillow and a pillow with Winnie the Pooh characters on it. Below the loft bed, a desk, two Rubbermaid`s full of "memories" and a beaten up guitar case. Just a foot away from the the wooden bedposts, a grey metal bed. This bed had an assortment of colors, pillows and stuffed animals. Under this loft bed was a large white dresser, a small bookshelf with odds and ends on it and a pink rug with blue, green and orange butterflies. Across the monstrosity sat an old Zenith television, Sharp VHS player and a Magnavox DVD player atop a two-drawer dresser, which was placed between the blue-green bed and an antique looking bookshelf, which was overflowing to the point of books just being in random piles around it.

My room, shared with Shelby, had that in it for a majority of my time in that prison. I had a closet, the door was right next to my bookshelf. It had a lock on it, and I held the only key. If someone were to open it, they would be greeted by all my clothes, some on hangers, some in a white four-drawer dresser with papers and nick-knacks strewn along the top, and some in the corner. I had three little carts set under the bar with hangers. If you looked up, you`d see an assortment of strings that hold old holiday lights, a circular case, two baskets and a bag of more "memories".

Our living room held two couches and a chair, the television and a cat tree. My parents kept their desks left of the front door. My father had too much paper cluttering the surface, I barely know what color the wood was. My mom kept the very organized surface, the floor, however, was littered with old papers, books and several boxes. She also had a bookshelf, which my dad built for her along with my loft bed, nearly full of crafts, books and bottles.

I liked this house for quite some time. We were shrouded by trees, mostly pine. Our yard was large enough for games, and the front got enough sunshine for a spice garden.

My dad spending his daylight hours sleeping, and had a night shift job nearly two hours away, for approximately four years. He worked at a soup factory, which allowed him to bring home gallon sized bags of soup. My mother decided to rejoin school, out in Tacoma most of her time learning how to be an environmental scientist. She worked at the university as a lab tech, which meant she was nearly never home.

That leaves Taylor, me and Shelby to fend for ourselves, my mom got better with hours as the years went on though, leaving her to cook meals. We functioned well until Taylor hit middle school. I was beginning fifth grade, and Shelby starting second grade. Taylor met new people, got home earlier, and left a good hour before I had to wake up. She was always hanging out with her new friends, none of whom I liked or liked me. Shelby met a girl her age next door and was always playing dolls or something. That left poor little me to be labeled as Taylor`s little sister and Shelby`s scary sister.

You shouldn`t feel sorry for me though. I was left alone, sure. I was teaching myself math, literature and history, definitely. I was lonely, that`s for sure. I never met any friends in my class, the only ones I met were at a little slice of Heaven for "gifted kids". No, I don`t mean Life Skills, I mean Quest.

Quest was a program for the smarter kids. We met in the portable at Hidden Creek every Tuesday. They were separated out by grades, Monday, sixth graders; Tuesday, fifth; Wednesday, fourth grade; and Thursday was for third graders. Neither of my sisters shared Quest with me. I felt special. The kids I met there became my friends. Hailey was the closest to me, and she lived two miles away. Cadence and Caren were best friends, nearly twins. Casey, Rachel, Sean and Andy all went to Hidden Creek. They all became my best friends. Others children were in the class, all of which were acquaintances of
mine.

We really weren`t that excelling in school. We just applied ourselves. The twenty-some kids were wacky, assorted and amazing. The last day of our sixth grade year together, we took a group photo. The teachers were fake crying, the students were all playing dead, but laughing too hard. It was a second family.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Seventh grade hit me hard. Taylor was in the ninth grade, and the top of the food chain at our school. I was a runt, short, awkward and friendless. All my friends from Quest were at Cedar or Marcus. No one came with me to Sedgwick. I spent my first two months of school totally silent, eating alone, doing work alone and sitting right behind the bus driver on my hour long ride home.

About Halloween time, I was switched into first block math. There, I learned how obnoxious a boy named Austin was, I learned how weird the "preps" were, and I learned I wasn`t entirely alone.

Cadence was attending the same junior high I was. No one else though, but she had made friends, and introduced me to them. I met Zoey Latta, a girl with thick brown hair and acne on her chin, Kimmi Fitzpatrick, a short girl with wicked long hair and a cheerful attitude, Haile Wittig, the cute flute player who was dating Karl, the drummer in my fourth and fifth block. By befriending those five kids, I met Lucy, Madison, Elliot, and Samantha,, among a handful or two more. Those mentioned became good friends of mine.

Turns out, most of them were in my sixth block elective class. Haile and Karl weren`t, which didn`t bother me too much. Zoey introduced me to a ginger haired girl who was nicknamed Jane, short for Janice. I was having the time of my life. I was happy, befriended, and no longer called Shelby`s scary sister. In fact, I was almost never home.

This carried on through eighth grade. I was a part of a large social group, but still an outcast. I talked in class, participated in group projects, barely, and almost phased out the four evil entities who were determined to make my life a living hell.