My eyes want to sleep but I can't. I'm to scared. To nervous of what's to come. Hours. minutes. The car seatbelt is rough. I play with my worry stone In my pocket. It was my moms idea. I was never the "popular kid". The kid with all the friends. Or, the pretty one. But I worried about everything. So I always have my rock. In my pocket of my old jeans. And ever time I'm worried. I feel all the bumps on the rock and let them wash through my body. And let the rock take my worries away.
My new town. The place I will be for...maybe a few months, weeks, until he realizes I'm just a bump in the path not suppose to be in his way. The place looks gloomy.
I breath on the window. The fog clouds over. I draw a key. The key to my heat I now swear no one is aloud to unlock.
I will not let anyone unlock it. I now promise.
We stop at a old White House. A gray door. Gray shutters. It's not a scary house, but it's certainly not welcoming. But everything is clean. Taken care of. Mowed lawn, clean windows, everything seems in place. But, I know when I walk in I will be the only miss placed thing within a mile. I walk up the steps with Miss. Cree. My companion from Chicago to some where in a small town in Tennessee. Mrs. Crees high heels click down the side walk. Click click. Her hand reaches up to the door but before she can to check a man opens the door. He's about 70 maybe. But the mans not the thing that I notice. It's the dog.
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Arms length
Teen FictionEveryone. You have to keep everyone at arms length. Never get to close because before you know it... There gone. Amelia has gone throughout her whole life of losing people. First her dad, her mom, and now all her friends. New school. New place. New...
