Okay, so, Tovah gave me the idea for this. So here it is!

Text Message Countdown

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     Day 1

  The day started
simply enough. I’d gotten up and done my usual routines. Brush out my short
blonde hair, highlight it with silver streaks. Then put on my favorite black
t-shirt with the words: Blonde Heroines Rule on fire. I then threw on a pair of
jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. But as I was about to walk downstairs, I
stared out my bedroom window. Across the street a teenage girl, maybe a little
older than me, definitely taller, stood looking straight at me. She had short
brown hair, and even though she was far away, I could distinctly see brown
eyes. She wore a beige aviator style jacket, and black jeans, with pink high
tops. I stared back, wondering if she was really looking at me, or something
else. She then slipped her hand into her jacket, and pulled out her cell phone.
She held it up at me, as if trying to tell me something. Then turned and walked
off. I frowned, wondering what that could have been about. “Victoria! You’ll be late for school!” My mom
hollered from downstairs. I shrugged it off. 
It was probably nothing. How wrong I was. Hi. My name Is Victoria Amelia
Wendylin, and this is how the end of the world started.

 I walked to school,
keeping my face down. But people usually ignored me anyway. That was the think
about being short, no one really paid you much attention. I continued on,
thoughts going through my head faster than I could really think hard on just
one. Who was that girl who flashed her
phone at me? Was she really trying to get my attention, or someone else’s? What
if there’s an algebra pop quiz? Will I fail it? What did Miss Andrew think of
my book report? It was really a poor book to have to do a report on. So,
these are the kind of things I think about, plus fantasy heroines I like to
make up. That’s me. I want to be a writer. Write about girls who do great
things! Who go down in history! Gosh, I want to do something! I didn’t realize
my opportunity was approaching so rapidly. Suddenly, my phone went off, meaning
I had a text. I opened my phone and read; Countdown. That was it. One word, not
making any sense. I dismissed it and kept walking. My phone then went off
again. This time it said; Armageddon 30. 
Now what did that mean? My thought immediately turned back to the girl
I’d seen, flashing her phone at me.

*********************************************************************

So, I would really like some feedback here! Tell me what you think! 

Pretty good. But if it was her frined who sent the text, wouldn't she recognize the number and figure it out right away?

Okay, so, here's the next part of Text Message Countdown!

    “What’s the
serious look for?” asked my best friend Nellie. She had long frizzy carrot red
hair, and had freckles under her eyes and across her nose. She was a kidding
sort of girl, but was feisty and a little hot tempered. I guess that’s what
made us such good friends. I was small, quiet, and deathly shy. “I got this
really weird text. Here, look.” I showed her the text. “Hmm. It’s probably a
gag,” she said, as we started walking toward class. “OR, maybe it’s a secret
message! Maybe somebody’s trying to tell you something! You do know what Armageddon means don’t
you?” “Of course,” I said, not really buying a word of what Nellie said. She
also has a rogue imagination. “Doomsday!” Nellie continued, thoroughly excited.
I stared at her, wondering just what really went on in her head. She stared
upward out of the corner of her eye, evidently imagining Armageddon. I rolled my
eyes. “Really, Nellie, you are by far the most unique, persuasive, imaginative
girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing!” We laughed and walked on. I soon
forgot the text message, but the sender evidently didn’t forget me. That night,
I sat on my bay window, supposedly reading, but the book had slipped from my
fingers, and I sat staring down at the street. Streetlights cast warm yellow
pools of light, kids were being called in from playing, and the sky was rapidly
darkening. Then something caught my eye. A figure was walking up the street,
hands thrust in her jacket pockets. They had a hood up, but I got a chill. The
figure looked familiar. Then it passed under one of the street lights. It was
wearing a beige coat, and pink high tops. I cupped my hands over my eyes to get
a better look. It walked up, then stopped right in front of my house. The
figure pulled its hands out of their pockets, holding a cell phone. They looked
up, straight at me. I could see a pale face, and distinct brown eyes. Brown
hair poked out from inside her hood. She waved the phone at me, then looked
down and started typing on it. A moment later, my phone went off.  I dashed over to my desk, and read; You are officially warned. Will you be up to
it? I ran back over to the window, but she was gone. I dashed downstairs,
and threw open the door. I stepped out into the chilly October air. I looked
both ways, but there was no one in sight. I walked back in and shut the door. “What’s
wrong, Victoria?”
My mom asked, slicing potatoes in the kitchen. “Just some weird text,” I
answered, leaning on the kitchen table, thinking. “Probably a gag from one of
your friends,” Mom said, returning to slicing. I nodded, but wasn’t convinced.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I tossed and turned, but the same thoughts kept
coming back. Who was that girl? Why did
she text me? Warned? Warned about what? What could I be warned about? Sleep
must have finally found me, because I woke to sunlight streaming through my
windows, and Mom calling. I checked my phone. No new texts. As I trudged to
school, I noticed a large crowd of people gawking at something. Nellie stood on
tiptoe, trying to get a better look. “Victoria!” she cried, dashing up to me. “What’s going on?” I asked, also trying to get a
better look. “Come on, you need to see for yourself.” Nellie dragged me through
the crowd, weaving in and out of people. This is where being small came in
handy. Finally we stood at the edge of a huge burn mark. “Wait,” I asked,
turning to Nellie. “Isn’t this that little antique shop that’s been here
forever?” “Yeah,” Nellie replied, looking intently as the police investigated. “But
it closed not to long ago. The lady who ran it retired.” “But what happened?” I
asked, trying to get a complete answer from Nellie. “I don’t know for sure, but
it’s said it blew up!” My jaw dropped. “Why would anybody blow up an antique shop? It doesn’t make any sense!”
Nellie just shook her head. Suddenly my phone went off. I opened it with a
sense of dread. It’s started. That’s
all it said. I wasn’t sure, but I had a chilling feeling I knew just “what” had
started.