It All Started with a Sticky Note

Chapter 1: My Life Decides to go Down the Drain

Dedicated to Marybrown79 for introducing me to Wattpad and being the first to read my stories, love ya girl! She is one of those crazy girls obsessed with werewolves (just kidding ;) so she writes amazing stories about them....nice save, no? :)

 ********Thanks for reading my story! The first few chapters are short, but after a while they get longer. Thanks for being patient with my grammatical errors and spelling mistakes :) I type this in a word document and then transport to wattpad, so there should be few, however even spell check messes up some times :) But enough from me, hope you enjoy the story and wait it out to the end! Thanks!*************

“I’ve know over a year that I wont be coming back…I just wanted it so bad I tried to convince myself I was going to return.”

Against my strong will I could feel warm tears forming on my bottom eye lids, causing my best friend in front of my to become blurry looking like a watercolor done by a two year old. I was at the bowling alley, having just finished the absolute worst bowling game in my life, the one when you always get a gutter-ball no matter how hard you whisper to the too-small-for-your-finger-but-the-only-thing-you-can-pick-up ball to make a strike. Knowing my independent mouth that is almost always not attached to my brain and my brain that is never plugged in I’d have to go out on a limb and say that they had planned for this disastrous moment to happen, not mentioning the following day.

So here I was; a tad bit worse then typical Avery when her mouth ran away, while being stared at by Mac, my best friend, and a few others who I regretfully invited to play a few games of bowling with us. My first mistake was I couldn’t wait to break the news so I guess my mouth kind of exploded, and the second mistake was I had been holding it since last February, not a good idea considering it was the almost the end of the summer.

I don’t fully recall how I set myself up for that look of disappointment where the only thing you think you can do at that point is melt into a puddle and die. Maybe it was the point where I told Mac I wasn’t returning back to the Children’s Theater, the place I had practically lived for the last three years, not to mention the place where I met him and we became as inseparable as peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. Or perhaps it was the point where I told him I couldn’t stand the fact he wasn’t a Christian, because it worried me all day that he always ignored me or changed the conversation when I brought up where his life was headed. But no, the part where he really melted me with his look was when I told him that because I always wanted to fit in I had totally changed my personality in the beginning of my theater career so that I could fit in with him, because he was like that perfect big brother. Looking back at it, I wish I had just slapped a huge strip of duct tape onto my mouth. But what’s done is done.  There is no changing the past, is there?

     The next day, I woke up with a knot in my stomach; it felt almost as if softball were rolling around, making me very uncomfortable. Must be my conscience I mutter to myself. I tried to shake the feeling away as I planned my last two weeks of summer freedom, after that I would be dragged down to Georgia so I could have “family bonding” time with my aunt and her gigantic family. More like “family torture”, last year I ended up having to tag along with aunt Jazz’s eight young kids as they went to the park every single day that week. I attempted to lure them away from me by playing hide-and—seek, hoping I could read behind a tree. But every game I was dubbed “it”, I guess they never caught on because I always counted too high and by the time I was at seven-hundred and twenty-nine exactly the kids would giggle as they came out of their hiding spots, thinking they had won. I didn’t mind little kids, in fact I love my little sister Tracy, it’s just that when they come at you in a multitude you get a feeling and just aren’t in the mood.

Since our oven was broken I cut off the traditional muffins from the menu but other then that I had my summer breakfast of oatmeal strawberries I headed to the phone to call my only best friend in the world at that point, Stefani. I wasn’t exactly popular with kids my age, then again is any fifteen year old? I had a few great friends and a few other teenagers that I liked but never clicked with. Stefani lived seven miles away but she loved riding her bike so that’s how I found her when she arrived in my driveway: how sweaty, but loving the fact she loved riding. That’s just how she was. We walked into the house and I poured a glass of water for her to cool off with, we had convinced each other that for the summer we would eat healthy – cut ourselves off from junk, every now and then we’d throw a junk party, so I guess we never truly got ahead of ourselves but that’s just how we were.