DON'T LOOK AT THE DATE

This book is going to all be in one post and the date doesn't change after I edit it. It's always going to say that it was posted March 15 but I'm going to keep editing almost everyday so I might be editing in December and it will still say March.

I'm Still Here

Chapter 1: How It Began

Squeak, step. Squeak, step. My boots. They were walking through puddles, alone, coming home from school. It was a normal, boring Wednesday and I was trailing down a quiet street in the cloudiness. Suddenly, I heard heavy running foot steps. Before I had a chance to whip my head around, I felt big and firm hands grab my shoulders. As an instinct I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and called the first number on my contacts. My mom. Of course, her phone was off. I heard a beep and quickly described everything I saw. Before I knew it my cell phone was out of my hands and I was in a dark, unknown place.

Chapter 2: New Begginings

"Pass the rice." Crash! "Leslie! Mom's going to freak when she sees that!" You guessed it. My little sister had dropped the big glass bowl rice pilaf on the wood floor of our small, cottage like house in Denver. "Why does Mom have to know?" "Fine, but your cleaning it up," I announced. My mom was still at work because she worked late on Wednesdays.

I, Jillian Preten, was a seventh grader at Copsbear Junior High and the only thing I ever wanted in lfe was a cell phone.

"Can't you wait a year or so?" My mom says every time I ask her. And, I've been asking her since fourth grade. You might be thinking, What about a dad? He passed away when I was three, so I don't remember much,but I hear he was funny. Time for homework, I thought, so I flipped my brown, wavy hair behind my shoulder and ran up to my room. Ever think of what you want to be when you grow up? I bet almost everone has, except me. The problem is my English assignment was to write an essay on my future career. You might be thinking, well there's plenty of jobs out there, but in my opinion; none of them suit me. Why not a vet, a doctor, a teacher, a lawer? Nope, not my style. The good thing was, the project wasn't due for another month, so I had some time to figure out my future profession.

"Wake up! Time for track practice." "Ugggghhhh." My least favorite thing of the week. On a Saterday morning, 8:00am, running for three hours. Why'd I sign up, you ask? I didn't, all my mom. And I won't be out of it until I get my grades up.

The sun was out and the feild beyond the track was nice and green, but I, on the other hand was not that beautiful. My hair tryed to squeeze into that tiny hair elastic, and the circles around my eyes were heavier then the worlds biggest summo wrestler, but I was here. Of course I was late and my legs weren't ready to move, but I started jogging and pulled out my ipod.

After a few steps I stopped dead in my tracks. What's that music coming from, and it is not my playlist. I walked over to the bleachers hoping to find something valueable. I looked under the medal seats and there before my eyes was a freshly polished cell phone.

"Jillian, what are you doing? Get back on the track." I snuck the phone into my pocket and before I knew it I was back in my car riding home. I was so anxious to turn the cell phone on, but I definetly couldn't have my mom see it. She would tell me all this nonsense about bringing it back to its owner and she'd tell me I wasn't ready for such a privilage.

Once the car pulled into the driveway I ran into my house almost before the car had even stopped. I flipped open the phone and there infront of me was a message saying one missed call. I went to the voice mail. "Ashtial Street, 102938, brown, black, Toyota, blue, dog," and then there was an excrusiating scream. I couldn't listen any more. Who's phone was this? "To delete this message press seven," said a machine voice.

7

To Be Continued