Chapter one: Time Well Wasted

Chapter two: Two families, equals two Christmas'

Chapter three: Marco...Polo

Chapter four: Whose the fat bald guy?

Chatper five: It's all fun and games

Chapter six: Mom, I need a ride

Chatper seven: Mrs. Dave Matthews

Chatper eight: A Body of Blue

Chapter nine: My Other Half

Chapter ten: It's not goodbye, it's a see you later.

Chapter eleven: Busted

Chapter 10

Caleb Scott Greene was everyone thought an ordinary kid. Lucky for me I was fortunate enough to know his true identity. From the time we were in kindergarten pushing each other on the old rusty tire swing, chasing each other across the playground, and racing one another down the steep metal slide at the park across the street, Caleb was my best friend. He walked me home from school every day and every day we would stop at the half way mark where the town laundry mat was located. He put his two quarters in the antique vending machine and bought me a cold refreshing soda pop. He called me Chubby Cheeks, and he was my big fluffy Teddy Bear. We knew anything there was to know about each other. I was getting picked on; he’d take care of it. I cried over a boy and his shoulder was there for me to cry on. What did I ever do for him? Maybe that’s why life was so hard for him. But, that was how our friendship worked, perfectly compatible.

Teddy Bear got picked on a lot growing up as a kid for being overweight. He sat alone at the lunch table and played with a girl who had cooties. That girl with the cooties was me. Our friendship was priceless and I’d give anything to have it back. I’d give anything to be able have one more day with him to walk around town, take car rides, teepee our friends’ and elementary school teacher’s houses, and lay on my trampoline together seeing who could see the most shooting stars. October 28th 2010 was a day of disaster and from this day all I would ever have left of my Teddy Bear would be the vivid memories that I’ve collected over the past thirteen years of my life. How am I supposed to live the rest of my life without this kid? It’s been three months and it still seems so unreal to me.

I have learned through this experience that life is incredibly delicate and precious, and even when your life seems to be going in the wrong direction there are so many people that would be lost without you. Who am I supposed to vent to about school, boyfriend problems, or family situations now that my best friend is gone. Every time I see a shooting star sprint across the sky I know that it’s you watching over me and having my back, just like you always did. I love you Teddy Bear, shine bright.

Chapter 11

stlouis2010069-1.jpg bridge
stlouis2010069-1.jpg bridge

Like Glasford, Tremont is a small town with nothing to do besides hang out at the local ice cream shop Pinkies; sit on the back of the boy’s tailgates at the pool parking lot occasionally having encounters with the town police for having our music up to loud, getting tickets for doing burnouts, and disrupting the towns peace. My favorite way to spend a summer’s night was by sneaking out with my rowdy group of friends to take a midnight adventure to Devil’s Bridge. Devil’s Bridge wasn’t your ordinary bridge though. Rumors have it that a long time ago there was a group of kids that hung out there and played with an Ouija board. It seemed like an ordinary group of kids and a typical weekend night until the board spelled out the name Sarah, who turned out to be the name of a little girl that was murdered and thrown off of that bridge many years before.

Most of the kids in town don’t have the guts to drive down the three mile, crooked gravel road and then hike through the woods on a little dirt road trail in order to reach our secret hideout. Just like any other time I was pressured into tagging along with them. Every time I was on my way there I broke a sweat because I constantly worried about my phone starting to vigorously vibrate, the name “Dad” calling me on the front screen. That happened frequently and every time his response was, “Kate, you have ten minutes to get your ass home or I’m calling your mother.” This summer night was different, though. I didn’t have my sense of paranoia, this time it was more like, “Get me the hell out of this place, now” sensation.

My friend Cole was the only person who had his license at the time so eight of us piled up on top of each other to squeeze into his 1996 red blazer. We were all jamming out to his 12” subs and Cole was caught up in the moment singing “Put On”. The curvy roads got windier, and his speed got faster, and before we knew it we were tossed into a cornfield. Luckily, all we lost was the side mirror and ruined a lot of Farmer Dan’s crops. The seven of us maneuvered ourselves out of the car to start pushing ourselves out of the mud. Finally, we escaped.

Unfortunately, our night only got worse. About two miles going down the gravel road the music turned off, then the lights, and then the car came to stop. There we were, broke down not far from where a little girl was killed. I don’t think me or the seven other friends of mine have ever been so scared. We tried starting up the car again…No luck. The only thing that we could do was call for help and sit there in the dark wilderness petrified for our lives. A loooong 20 minutes later our friends came to the rescue.
I’d rather stick to staying at home enjoying my brother and father’s company on a Saturday night than ever attempt to sneak out, cause trouble, and wait for the death of me in that old, beat up vehicle with nothing to protect me except Caleb Greene, who had a hold of me for dear life as I sat upon his lap and used him as my human seatbelt.
Whoooa. That was a close one.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------What kind of vehicle do you drive (or if you don’t have a vehicle what kind do you wish you drove)
My old beat up automobile has made it through hell and back, especially the way I handle it. Clothes are piled through the roof, the town’s garbage truck ruptured in my back seat (Hyperbole), and my air conditioning makes a piercing squealing noise that is referred to the sound of a dying cow. Permanent ketchup droppings will remain there for eternity in attempt from trying to eat the heavenly McDonalds while trying to focus on the road rather than the tasty sensation in my mouth. Millions of dollars could be cashed in just from the coins dispersed on the floorboards due to my shattered change jar. This miniature junkyard gets me to my desired destination and hasn’t forsaken me yet; keep up the good work, Rusty.

If abandoned in the wilderness, would you survive? Explain.
Alone in the wilderness by myself…is that a joke? Sure I may last a few hours until my cell phone dies, I lose signal, and realize that my hair is a frizzy mess and is in urgent need of a straightner and a can of hair spray (Imagery). Not to mention my lack of skill in problem solving and inability to put myself anywhere near the bugs and critters that are crawling in every which direction. Kill me now and get it over with rather than me being eaten alive by the unknown.

What do you want to be when you grow up?Since I’ve been six years old I’ve wanted to be a Barbie Doll or a Princess but seeing as those chances are slim these days I’ve moved on and realized that my goals in life may never be accomplished. I’ve decided to move on to my second option and become a professional hobo. What’s better than sitting in a cardboard box, sleeping all day, and being handed money by complete strangers? In addition to that, never having to pay utilities or go to work sounds like a decent life to me. All I need to do is take some guitar lessons, buy myself a new wardrobe, and purchase a box. Home sweet home.

What’s your biggest flaw?
Tick Tock, Tick Tock. The night gets later and my homework still remains undone. Procrastination gets the best of me, it never fails. Creeping on Facebook checking out all the recent pointless statuses in search for drama and gossip in order to convince yourself that your life isn’t so bad after all consumes my night. Homework is overrated, Friday Night Lights, Netflix, and Skype here I come.

How do you feel right now?
The monster inside my stomach is begging for a bacon cheeseburger and a scrumptious scoop of the one and only Mac N Cheese (Personification). Unfortunately I’m stuck eating the school’s salad bar with soogy brown lettuce, goopy pastas, and a heavy coating of ranch dressing to hide the funk. Maybe if I’m lucky the candy man will hook me up with a chocolate chip muffin out of the vending machine which is the only thing that doesn’t taste completely stale; probably because I soak it in a carton of moldy milk (Alliteration) before I attempt to wash it down. Micky D’s sounds delightful.

What noises do you hear right now?
My head is about to blow up due to a girl with speckely colored hair that doesn’t realize that she shouts when she talks and no one cares about the sea of lies that continually come out of her mouth. Sometiems I think the only reason why she talks is to simply be heard because she clearly doesn’t think before she speaks. Roughly 2 months and I won’t have to worry about hearing the sound of her voice that sound like the nails being scraped along a chalkboard.(Simile) Hallelujia.

Describe your best friend.
What more could you want than having Leslie Marie Broyles as your best friend? Easy question. Nothing. Need a shoulder to cry on? Need someone to make you laugh without having to try? Maybe you should ask her to be your bestfriend too except that wont work because you cant have more than one bestfriend. I’m not sure if it’s her clumsyness, ditzyness, or inability to understand jokes that makes her so fun to be around.

What’s the most memorable moment of your life?
Were you the kid that everyone insisted on calling you brace face? I was that girl. My face was full of silver that a metal detecter could distinguish me from miles away. December 13, 2007 may have possibly been one of the best days of my life. Slimy, freshly bleached, and metal free. Grab the camera I’m ready to smile.
I can’t live without_
If everything in the world was taken from me but I was able to choose one thing to stay here on this planet with me an ipod full of music and a battery that lasted for eternity would be shoved in my eardrums. Without music my life would be jammed with stress and anger because let’s face it beats and lyrics can care a broken heart, an empty soul, and save walls from being punched in. The world is saved.

Is your room clean?
If there’s one thing that my mom is good at it’s lecturing me about how dysfunctional my room looks. My laundry basket is constantly overflowing, my bed is NEVER made, and my art supplies are scattered around the room in no specific orderly manner. But that’s how I like it. It’s my organized clutter filled mess and which every object in my room has its exact placement that I can find automatically.

NAME: Harvey Jones aka Old Man Harv
BIOGRAPHY: He's an old widowed man with no kids and sits on his porch on a long dirt road in Kentucky while he drinks his misery away with a bottle of Jack and a can of chewing tobacco. He keeps to himself as much as possible.
AGE:Harvey has a signature limp and has to have the support of a cane when he walks. He's in his mid 60's but judging a book by its cover you'd guess much older
HEIGHT: 5'11 but you'd never know due to his hunch back. Standing next to him he's about 5'9
WEIGHT: He's a scrawny old man
BODY TYPE:He's fragile and looks as if you could break him over your knee but down let the scrawnyness be misleading but his anger problems could do enough damage.
FACE TYPE: The face of Old Man Harv's is taken over by wrinkes and dirt.
COMPLEXION: Pale but always sunburnt
EYES: His eyes are always squinted to do his poor vision but if you get a glipse in the light they're a pale green that look mean and full of hatred.
HAIR: His snow white hair is long and often pulled back into ponytal.
CLOTHING STYLE: He doesn't wear anything except a flannel shirt coated with a torn up pair of coveralls that are covered in holes, dirt, and grease.
SPEAKING STYLE: Old Man Harv's doesn't say much but when he does you have to listen close due to his superior southern accent.
GENERAL DEMENOR: He HATES people but if he has to talk its fast, uneducated vocabulary, and to point.
CAREER: Him and his wife used to farm but he sold it and now stays at home and ocassionaly works on cars.
PREJUDICES:He hates kids more than anything
BEST QULAITIES: Buddy, his dog is his life. He goes everywhere he goes and Marvey takes a good a care of him. He's the best mecanic in town, and even though no one would ever know but his lack of ability to take care of himself, he has quite the savings.
WORST QULAITES: His inablilty to work well with others has never been a plus for him after his wife died 11 years ago. He curses every other word, and drinks from the time he wakes up until the time he goes to bed.
WEAKNESS: He's very uneducated and has to hobble every where he goes due to an infection in his leg from an open wound cut.
HOBBIES: Shoots beer cans off the front of his porch.
TALENTS: Can drink beer and have a chew at the same time.