Young Writers Society

I had to get away. I had to go now! But where? Where could I go?

Calm down, Nate. Calm down, think. Somewhere nearby. Not too close. Kenneth City? No, too close. Tampa? No, not far enough. Dammit, think harder!

Then it hit me as I turned onto the highway. Palm Harbor. It was at least a good 40 some minutes away. Not exactly the distance from this god forsaken town, but far enough. For now.

Now, what was I going to do about the car? This wasn't the first time I had run off. The first time I was twelve and got about half an hour away, on foot, before Dad found me on the side of the road. Well, he wasn't going to find me. Not my body. My car, maybe.

I could stage a crash... No, too risky. Leave it on the beach? No, it'd be towed before he found it...

Aha! I got it. I'll leave it in a marsh, buried in reeds and muck. I'll risk some of my stuff. The surfboard can stay. I can spare some other stuff. The clothes stay.

Smiling slightly to myself, sure my plan would work, I settled comfortably into my seat. I had some miles to cover before rolling in my success.


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Exiting the highway, I noticed my gas tank was low. Is it worth the risk? I idled at a nearby dump of a gas station, planning my next move.

I could stage it as I left the car because of low fuel, but then he'd know I was still out there. Full tank would mean I could have gone further, but got stuck. Or attacked. Attacked. Yeah, that could work. I learned from a buddy how to stage gator bites in metal. It'd be a little expensive, but I could pull it off. We had freaked Nora out with it one time, on Halloween a year ago.

Nodding to myself, I pulled up to the gas pump, hopped out and selected the needed gas type and began pumping. I glanced around. Damn, this place is deserted. I craned my head to look in the actual store. There was a older man in there, looking quite bored. I felt sorry for him. Stuck having to work the nine to five. Especially here. A gas station of all places. Had to be the worst place to work.

The pump jumped, making a small clicking noise, clarifying it was done. I smiled slightly, hooking the pump back up, screwing the cap back on and walking into the small shop; Not before grabbing my keys from the ignition though.

"Twenty on pump number 6." I murmured, handing the man the cash. He hmmphed under his breath and took my money. Before he could ring up the bill, I spoke again, testing my luck.

"A pack of 520's too, please."

The man raised a bushy white eyebrow at me. "ID?" he asked gruffly.

I cooly opened my wallet and fished out my ID. He glanced down at it, handed it back to me and fished a pack down. He rang up the cigarettes with the gas and handed me my change.

"Thanks." I smiled slightly, heading to my car. Once back on the road, I breathed a sigh of relief. It had worked. A guy that owed me a favor had made me the fake ID a month ago. I hadn't had the time to test it. Seemed to pass the old man's test. Then again, old men had bad vision to begin with. I could have handed him my actual ID and he would have thought me 18.

Glancing in my rearview mirror, I stiffened for a moment. Fuck, the police.

Calm down. No sirens. No lights. They arent after you, dumb ass. They're probably doing patrols.

Once more, I let out a sigh of relief as they passed on by. I was safe. For now. How long until my luck ran out?

Smiling slightly to myself, sure my plan would work, I settled comfortably into my seat. I had some miles to cover before rolling in my success

Now there are several things I can find wrong with his plan. He will be stuck in a march with no means of transportation, for one. He’s planning on sabotaging his stuff, and for what? When/if his dad finds the car, without him in it, he’s going to go looking for him still. I mean, no dead body, so obviously he’d know you were still alive.

There really wasn’t a lot to this chapter. Honestly, I think it could be left out. What was the point of going to the gas station? Nothing happened.

Except you further established his druggy-badboy persona. Which was unnecessary, in my opinion. You don’t want to expand on the worst part of character, especially if were supposed to be following him through the story. You want us to WANT to tag along with him, or feel sympathy for him. Oh, and why did he need to buy the cigs? I thought he brought a huge stash of them with him.

So in my opinion, there wasn’t anything in this chapter that carried the story. I think your best bet is to go back and rewrite this, honestly.

If you want any help or suggestion, I’m just a PM away.
Good luck!

The beginning of the chapter did a good job establishing suspense. I like the fact that you added the detail of the gas station, whether it was needed or not. But nothing is happening in this chapter, so it seems like it either needs more added to it, or it needs to be, as Blacksheep said, rewritten.

Thank you for the reviews, this is a rough draft, very rough. I just wanted to get the gist of it up first. I'll definitelt be editing both parts of this, and the point of his character personality is to be a jerk, his vunerability comes in soon. There's reasoning behind him leaving the car. He has plans, don't worry.

<3 Megan