Broken (A Ghost Story)

Chapter 1

Whats up? (dont answer that) This is my first story that I've posted. It is rated PG cuz it will be scary, (but not too scary in my opinion) Sorry if it starts out dull. I wanted to introduce the characters & setting like a normal book. Hope you enjoy!

"Stop it" I said as I pulled away from my mother who was trying in vain to brush my long strawberry blond hair.

"Maria," She said exasperatedly, "It's not going to get any better unless you or I brush it."

"Fine, I'll do it myself then." I snapped back irritably. After I the brush out of my mom's hand my mom backed out of the door saying "Ok sweetie see you tonight" in a kind of "I don't really care enough to fight" way. When she left I flipped my hair into a quick ponytail.

I had had a pretty tough year. My classmates were starting to call me weird or creepy just because of my liking for the strange and supernatural. This included everything from the books that I read to the subjects I brought up in class. On top off all that I'm the new kid in school, which gets me a lot more attention than I actually want. I'm not exactly normal looking either. I have long strawberry blond hair that would look nice if it weren't so greasy all the time. I also have the most peculiar eyes that I've ever seen. They are bright green and I swear that when you turn the lights off that they are glow-in-the-dark. You'd think that I'd get used to all the staring, but I never really do.

"Hey dad" I said coming out of the bathroom with my hair in an only partially brushed ponytail.

"Hey" he mumbled back.

My dad was good if you wanted some advice, but mornings weren't his time. Our family got along much as a normal family does with its calm peaceful moments and with its moments of stress and tension, but we all didn't really quite fit together. My mother worked the most of the day so really the only time I get to see her on weekdays is in the morning for a brief time. My dad doesn't have a job, but he is no less important to this family. He keeps the house in check and gets the groceries. I don't spend a lot of time in the house. I have school most of the day then I escape to the library with the few friends that I do have. On weekends I can be found in various places around town from the mall bookstore to the outside of the town theater looking for when movies come out.

I walk past the living and dining rooms into the kitchen which is comparatively smaller than the other rooms in the house. I popped a bagel into the toaster and sat down at the small table that we usually use for our more formal family dinners. When my breakfast has been consumed I hear a car horn honk at our house as the driver waits impatiently for me. As I run out the back door I yell a hasty goodbye to my dad who is still watching the T.V. in the living room.

As I step into the car Jack murmurs, "Hey Maria."

Then he changes the radio station and starts backing out of my driveway. Jack has been my best friend since I moved here three years ago and nearly dumped my lunch on him the first day of school after someone tripped me. After some embarrassed apologies he forgave me. After that he told me that the person who tripped me was Kaitlin Mount who had done almost the same thing to him on his first day of school. The only difference was that he splattered a peanut butter on the girl he had a crush on. After talking for a while we found out that we have the same interests. These included the fact that we both liked to read ghost books. I also found out that he went to the library every night for book club about the same strange and scary books that I like. By the next week I was signed up for that same book club and Jack was my best friend. He was also a year older than me so he drove me to school every day.

As he drove us down the streets of the small city of Ankeny, Iowa we talked about really random things. Most of them, however, had to do with the library and the new Bad Girls Don't Die book coming out next May. About halfway to school there was a lull in our conversation which turned into a "silent think time" as my mother would say. I looked out the side window and started to think about the move to Iowa. I had moved here just three years ago after living my whole life in Florida. I couldn't get used to how cold it was here, especially now in the dead of winter when there is snow piled up on the side of driveways or stacked in snow drifts along wooden fences.