Not His Type → Jack Gilinsky [DISCONTINUED]

0. Prologue

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I know it's out of order. I had 12 chapters written, then I go back to prologue, but the idea just came to me, so.. here it is... I'm going to Canada, so it will either take a lot of my writing time or not, but either way, I hope I see Shawn. Just kidding. Anyways, thank you all for 2.8k! Ahhhh, it was literally only 2.4k yesterday!

(prologue)

"Mom!" I screamed from the basement. I don't get a response. "Mother!"

"Mother!" I scream again. This time the sound of her houseshoes slapped the wood floor.

"Yes? What do you want?"

"Where's my tennis racket?" I say, looking up from the boxes.

"Your what?" She says, coming closer to me for a look.

"My...tennis...racket. Where did you put it?" I say slower.

"Ah, right there. I think. It should be over here in the one of the boxes." She went over to the huge shelf and picked a random box from the shelf.

Well, this is going to take awhile.

"Alright, let's see if it's in here." She opens the box and begins to dig in it. I grab another box and set it beside her and search through it with her.

"I didn't know you played tennis, Ella. When did you start?"

"Uh, right now. Brooke is waiting for me at the park." We weren't actually going to the park though. We're going to the amusement park to ride the new roller coaster, but she doesn't have to know that.

"Well, sounds like fun." She pulls an old shirt out from the box. "I remember this."

I watch her as she stares at it, probably imanging the days I used to wear it as a toddler.

I half smiled at her. I looked back at the box. "Here, I found it. Thanks for the help! Bye." I hugged her and ran up the stairs without her reply.

____________________________________________________________

"I'm back, Mom!" I screamed as I opened the door. The house was quiet.

I jumped onto the couch and pulled out my tablet from the table. It didn't feel like my tablet. I looked at it. And it wasn't.

It was a camcorder.

I set it back on the table, then I realized something, looking back at it.

I grabbed it again and ran up the stairs. I set it up on some books and boxes laying around. Then, I sat on my desk, wondering, what to film.

I sat infront of the camera and just let it record me, doing nothing.

What should I do?

Bam. I got it.