Crystal Hearts: The Crystal Key [HIATUS]

Crystal Hearts: The Crystal Key (1)

Before I begin telling my story, I suppose I should provide a few details about myself. It's only proper, though I usually could care less about my manners.

First of all, my name is Morgan. It means "by the sea," and it is a name I am proud to have. I don't live by the sea, and I haven't ever been to the beach. The closest I've gotten to a real beach was the time I went to the lake on vacation. I couldn't stand it, though, and I ended up going home early. Still, I enjoy sitting by the creek and listening to the gurgling water. It inspires me.

My hair is dirty blonde, but it has a coppery tint when the light hits it. Most of the time it's a mess, and it's prone to looking oily. When I put some effort into blow-drying after a shower and flat-ironing in the morning, it looks gorgeous. But if I don't part it in just the right way, the effect is ruined. Not to mention that it just doesn't want to obey. So I usually don't bother with my hair when a quick brushing will suffice. I wear glasses, but I don't like them. They're always getting in the way, and no one can see the true color of my eyes. (Not that my eyes are all that spectacular. They're just a pale, gray-ish blue.) And then there's my voice. It just doesn't seem to match my appearance, in my opinion. Every time I look in the mirror and talk, it always seems too boy-ish and scratchy. If you can't tell by now, I'm really not a fan of my looks.

Personality-wise, I'm the artsy type. I love to draw and read and write, and I get straight A's. I don't like going to school or anything, but most people classify me as a nerd. (If I had to put myself in a demeaning category like that, I'd personally go with "geek" or "dork.") I usually keep to myself and don't talk to kids outside my group of friends. When I try to be outgoing, people look at me like they can't stand to hear me talk. If I attempt a joke, someone makes a sarcastic remark that shuts me up. And the popular girls -- every school has them -- look down on me like I'm a dog. If I get angry at them for bossing me around, they seem stunned that I have feelings of my own. It's because of them that I don a jacket or hoodie every day and stay in my place. What most kids aside from my buddies don't know is that I swear like a sailor and get upset pretty easily. I wouldn't say I'm emo or depressed, but I'm definitely a pessimist.

Now that I've described myself, the epic tale that is my life can begin to be told. Our story starts on a warm spring day -- Sunday, to be exact.

DING DONG! The doorbell rang. I dashed to the front door and swung it open. "Delaney!"

"Who else?" Delaney replied, high-fiving me. "Ready for today's exploration?"

"Hell, yeah!" I exclaimed. I grabbed my navy blue jacket and threw it on over my black tank top, then slung my pack over my shoulder.

"Awwww, sissy, you said the H-word," my 8-year-old brother, Tyler, said in his tattletale whine. "I'm tellin' on you!"

"Shut up," I said irritably. "What do you know?"

"I know lotsa stuff," Tyler said, folding his arms across his chest, "and you're in big trouble."

"Why don't you go play with Aaron?" I suggested.

"Okay!" Tyler's eyes lit up. "Can you play with us?"

"No." I rolled my eyes. "Delaney and I are going on a dangerous expedition into the bowels of Berkey."

"Whatever," Tyler said, putting his shoes on. "We'll have fun while you sit around like old women." He ran to the back door and shot out. "Come back soon!" he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, right," Delaney and I sang in unison. We rushed out the door and hopped onto our bicycles. Mine was a blue and pink mountain bike with 9 speeds, and I was very proud of it. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I pushed off and pedaled like there was no tomorrow.