Lucy, I love it! I love all your work, just sometimes I dont have the time to post. You have some serious talent, keep it up!

2: The First Morning

The first morning is hopelessly hard for me.  I miss our old house, and all the happiness within it, not the false hope Dad gives us.

Dad's the kind of guy who's not going to just give up.  He's going to keep going, no matter the circumstances.  It doesn't matter if Krystal died a month ago.  It doesn't matter if the love of his life needs to go to a mental hostpital.  It doesn't matter if he's been out of work for 6 months.  He'll move on.

Unlike me.  I always seem to hold on to everything, not wanting to let go.  I held on to Krystal.  I held on to Mom.  I held on to our old house, even the part where Krystal was killed in the burgulary.

*

I wake up early, half-expecting to see the roof of our old house 3 feet from my face.  Instead, I see the underside of the bunk bed, what Krystal would have seen.  The thought of it almost brings me to tears.  

"Krystal, was this the last thing that you saw?  Or was it the cruel man's face who killed you?" I think to myself.  "Did your life flash before your eyes, like Dad says before you die?"

I shake my head, and sit up.  I glare at Eligh on the top bunk, fake-snoring.I walk to the dressser and choose a pair of torn and faded pair of jeans and a T-shirt that says "Lost Soul" printed across the chest.  I grab a pen from the floor (No doubt Eligh's doing) and chuck it at the top bunk.

"Oww!  Mary-Sue, why'd you do that?!' Eligh calls angrily.

"You," I growl, "were fake snoring." 

This is really good, Lucy. Really sad, but still good!

I know this is a little morbid, but how did Krystal die? This is a very sad story!

This is really good! Great job Lucy!

3: The First Day, The Bad Part

I exit our room, having told Eligh not to fake snore -- he knows I hate it.  The room next to ours is the living room/kitchen area.  I open one of the cupboards and look inside.  There's not much, just Cheerios and Corn Flakes, but I don't care.

I get myself a bowl of Corn Flakes and sit down on the couch.  I check the time on my watch.  It's 6:45.  I should have enough time to get to school on time.  Being late isn't a good first impression.

I grab the remote and turn the TV on.  I watch cartoons while I eat.  At least that's one good thing about this apartment.

When I finish, I put the bowl in the sink and head to the bathroom.  Eligh's already in there, brushing his teeth.  

"Move over, shorty.  I need to brush my teeth too," I say.  When he doesn't, I reach over him.  

"hwwww!" He protests, his words muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth.

"Whatever, shorty." 

*

I take the subway to school at 7:15.  It's weird.  There are so many people.  There wouldn't ever be this many people in Sacramento.  Suddenly the train stops and I get up.  I THINK it's my stop.  6 or so other girls my age follow.  That means I'm probably on the right track.  

I'm not 100% sure where I'm going, but I'm just following the other people.  But I must be going to the right place because when I get to the office, the lady at the desk knows EXACTLY who I am.  Almost.

"Susan Folwick?" she asks when I walk in.  

"My name's Mary-Susan.  But call me Mary-Sue.  I need my schedule," I reply.

"Oh, here, sorry," The lady hands it to me.  

I scan through the classes to see what room they are all in.  Then I head towards my first class, history with Mrs. Storrel.

When I walk in, I'm about 5 minutes early, but there are people already in the classroom.  Some of them are the girls I saw earlier.  There are about 4 of them, talking to each other.  When I walk in, some of them turn and snicker.  I ignore them, and walk to the teacher's desk to ask Mrs. Storrel where my seat is.

My seat is in the back, of course.  But as I sit down, the bell rings, and students pour in.  Mrs. Storrel says in a fake-happy voice, "Hello, students!  Today we have a new student.  Miss Folwick, would you mind introducing myself.

As I walk to the front of the classroom, I can feel every eye burning into me.  They say the eye is the key to the soul, but it is also the key to revealing one anothers' souls.  

I look at the floor as I speak.  "My name is Mary-Susan Folwick, but you can call me Mary-Sue.  I recently moved from Sacramento, California to here.  I like to draw and write stories and poems."

Again, I feel every eye on me as I walk to the back of the classroom.  They are burning into my skin, looking into my soul, and all the secrets that I keep to myself.