Chapter One

This is a fragment of the first chapter of my story that my sister and I were working on together. It's obviously not finished but I figured I'd post it anyway. Btw, the pieces have seperate narators.

A remember this one day when it was hectic from the start.  I should’ve known that the moment I came out of my tent something interesting was bound to happen. 

                “What the frick?!” Exclaimed Sam the moment I collided with him, followed by a loud, exaggerated laugh and a tumble to the ground. Sam never takes anything seriously, except when someone is in serious danger.

“How’s it going?” He asked when he finally regained some control of himself.

“Well,” I said, “I was going to go check on Andrew, and he’s probably wondering where I am right now.”

“Hey, chill out.  Do you ever leave that kid alone?”

“He is my brother. If Justin is too busy with “more important things” guess what I’m doing?”

“Um, you’re …taking care of Andrew!”  He said, nodding his head as if it was a strong feat.

“It was a rhetorical question, Sam.”

“Oh. Well catch you around! I’m gonna go see what Dylan’s up to!”

                Dylan and Sam have a sort of “special” relationship. I know what you’re thinking, they aren’t gay, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Anyway, you hardly ever see one without the other. This is strange since they haven’t known each other for very long. 6 months from that day they had showed up at camp together, and told us their story. The two met up in Ohio, both running away from perfectly good homes. Sam was from a small town in Connecticut and had a loving Mom a baby sister. But it was too dull for him. So, he met up with some of his trouble making friends one night, and got a bit too creative with graffiti. The next day, after, “F**K YOU, AMERICA” showed up on the front of his school and ended up on the news, he ran away in panic, without saying goodbye.

                Dylan’s past was far more surprising, considering type of kid he was.  He was trying to complete a riddle in History class, when his ignorant teacher, Mr. Bretzeg, who normally didn’t notice anything students did, tore the puzzle book out of his hands.  Mid-lecture, he held the book in front of the class, open to the page Dylan was on.

“See, children? This is what we have been talking about for the past few weeks,” He yelled,” As Dylan watched his only possession he cared about be chucked into the wastebasket, he finally cracked.  Storming out of the class, he heard Mr. Bretzeg  yell, “Come back here,” which made him walk faster. The farther he got from his classroom, the bigger leaps he took. Before he knew it, he was 5 miles away in a quaint café eating scrambled eggs  with cheese. But the familiar sound of a newswoman’s voice made him drop his fork onto his plate with a tiny “ting!”

Author's Note

Just tell me what you think of it.