Chapter One:
The pale yellow moon appeared by dusk, but Annie did not even notice it from her bedroom window. A few stars dotted the cloudless sky—now a perfect shade of purple. The neighborhood was completely quiet, except for the howling of dogs in a distance. Other than that, silence settled down on the few houses of Melbourne Avenue.
Annie McMillan sat on her study desk with her back on the window, writing the second chapter of her story in a hardbound notebook. She's been sitting there all day, her mind focused and still, sweating droplets of sweat on her forehead. Her fingers moved slowly, concentrating on her work.
It was a cold summer night; three weeks after the last day of classes. She gave a loud sigh. Three long weeks had passed since the day Annie started writing her novel, spending every possible time with her notebook, yet she was still working on chapter two. Annie hated to admit it, but she's slow when it came to writing and terrible when it came to thinking. Her brain doesn't seem to cooperate with her hands, like it's blocking out thoughts.
Well, it was a part of being a writer, Annie once said. Thinking is mainly 95% of the process, while writing is only five percent of the whole job. But that part kept swirling on her head, and it seems to tell her that she will never finish her story.
Annie sighed once more, remembering the day when she promised her best friend a novel she will work for the whole summer vacation...
~
The sound of the last dismissal bell for the school year echoed loudly on the empty corridors of Blackthorn Academy, releasing the students out of their burdens. Noise filled the hallway as they slam the doors of their classrooms, enjoying their freedom. Some students are gathering their stuff, while others are already chatting about their plans for the summer. It’s the last day of classes, and it’s their way of celebrating it here in Blackthorn Academy.
Annie sat on her favorite place outside, under the shade of a huge maple tree that grew tall on the far corner of the school garden. Leaves covered the ground where she sat with a thick book on her lap. A light breeze caught her brown hair, tossing around in the wind. Annie sat there amidst of all the noise, waiting patiently for Jane Scott, her best friend.
She had known Jane since their freshmen year, and been her best friend ever since. Jane is a budding photographer, who recently had just learned the art of photography, and has been her hobby. She’s an easygoing person, always looking on the brighter side of life.
Jane finally arrived half an hour later, carrying a pile of books, with a Polaroid camera on top of them, and several paper bags around her arms. She had never been known to arrive early on meetings. Quietly, she approached Annie who is now on her feet, with her arms on her hips, glaring at her best friend. Jane, however, only smiled; her face half-hidden from the stuff on her hands.
“I’m sorry I'm late,” she said in a calm voice, before Annie could even start.
“You’re never on time, Jane,” Annie said, returning to her sitting position.
Jane put down her books and paper bags on the soft grass, sat beside her best friend on the ground, and flashed a stolen shot at Annie with the camera.
“As you can see, I have gathered all my stuff from my lockers,” she said as she picked up the photograph that fell on her lap. Jane loves to take pictures of Annie. She grabbed the book Annie had been holding a while ago, which turned out to be a photo album filled with her pictures, and placed the new photo on it.
“Lockers?”
“I have three, remember?” Jane said. “I pleaded with Mrs. Hickman two extra lockers, since I have lots of stuff and needs more space for my things. She agreed, fortunately.” Mrs. Hickman is the school principal.
“I never knew you have three.” Annie said, eyeing the books and paper bags on the ground. “What’s on those bags anyway?”
“Rubbish. All of those pesky test papers, quizzes, assignments, are all in there.” She rolled her eyes, sighing.
“You mean you have three lockers full of trash? I wonder what your locker looks like,” Annie laughed. “I would have kept my test papers.”
“My papers are useless, I will burn them tomorrow,” Jane said. She’s not concerned about her things, burning them if she found them worthless. “Why are we here?” she asked suddenly.
“I can’t think of what to do this summer,” Annie replied. “I want to write a novel, but I’m out of ideas. Can you help me?” She looked at her best friend.
Jane thought for a minute, twisting her blond curls with her fingers. “You want me to help you?”
“That’s what I just said!” Annie said sarcastically.
“I know, I know! But, how can I help you?” Jane asked. “I can’t write.”
“Well, you can give me some ideas.”
Jane smiled. “Okay. I have this idea on my mind, maybe it can help you.” Before Annie could ask, she cut in. “But, I have a deal to make.”
Annie leaned forward, waiting.
“Since it’s my idea, you have to dedicate this novel to me.” She raised her eyebrows.
Annie protested at once. “No! It’s unfair. It’s absolutely—“
She raised her hands. “Okay. I won't help you anymore.”
Annie began to think. Well, she didn’t dedicate a novel to her best friend yet. “Wait. Fine, I’ll agree. I will give you the novel, but you mustn’t read it until it is finished.” She eyed Jane.
“Okay.” Jane said happily, knowing she will always win over her best friend. “So, here’s my idea. A punk guy will meet a lonely girl and they will be friends forever, but not too long because the girl will die from a horrible disease of chicken pox—“
“What? Chicken pox is not fatal!”
Jane shot a look at her. “It’s my idea. She will die from chicken pox, and the guy will kill himself by slashing his wrists because he’s an emo. And they rested in peace happily ever after.”
Annie sighed. “Okay,” she said, knowing this will lead to a fight if she protested once more.
Jane beamed beside her. “Excellent.”
~
