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Chapter 1.
My feet loudly crush dead leaves, and I wince at each loud crunch. I really don't feel like having my presence known out here, so I attempt to walk softer. Crrnch! Dammit! Shut up leaves!!
Well this is just great. Its cold, its dark, and I'm in a frigging graveyard!
Now I promise, this isn't my idea of fun, at all. I don't even want to be here!! Who would want to be in a creepy graveyard at midnight where a zombie could come out and eat my brains? Not me!! This is all my bitchy, brat of a step sister's fault.
Ok, I understand that she doesn't like me or my dad, or that she doesn't like that we had to move to a new town. Hell, I didn't want to move either, but did I complain?
......K, I take that back...I did complain, but I didn't go through a freaking metamorphosis!
When I first met Marcelle, she wasn't the happiest camper in the cabin, but she did at least smile sometimes and laugh. After her mom married my dad, she kind of went into mope mode, which wasn't fun to deal with, and after we moved, she suddenly got all bitchy which is even worse.
And since we've moved here she's changed wardrobes and made some new friends....
Which is why I'm in a graveyard, when its fricking cold outside, at midnight, because my dad and Judith (I refuse to call her 'mom') said, quote, 'Olivia, you have to go get her! She won't listen to us. She relates better to you.'Psht. What a bunch of bullcrap. She doesn't listen to me or relate to me at all (unless you consider glaring daggers at me and stealing my granola bars as relating).
As I keep walking, I squint through the darkness, hoping to see her. You see, Marcelle has a curfew of 10 o'clock...which she obviously didn't keep. And so I have to go get her. I've been wandering around for almost twenty minutes and I still haven't found her!
I angrily texted her: Marcelle! Where the crap are you!
What surprised me is when she responded a second later, because this was the bazillionth time I'd sent that message. She's sent: The far side of the graveyard.
I texted her back. Come here! We have to go home!
Marcelle: I will. Come here tho
Me: Why?
Marcelle: Cuz.
Me: No! Get ur butt to the parking lot! I almost said 'get ur fat butt to the parking lot', but after the results of the last time I called her fat, I wasn't going to do that again. (She made a frigging voodoo doll of me! I saw it in her room! There was a pin in the middle of its forehead!!)
Marcelle: Not yet. You come here first then ill go k?
I thought about this. Why would she want me to go see her? She hates me (she's told me a zillion times) and her friends hate me (which she's also told me a zillion times). So why?
A zing of fear jolted through me. What if she was in trouble? Her 'friends' are rather sketchy to me, so what if they've hurt her? I started walking again, quicker than before.
I texted her again: Are you ok?
Her response was instantaneous. Yea. r u coming?
Me: Yes
As I walked, I couldn't help but feel uneasy. I kept telling myself that it was because I was worried about her, but I couldn't brush off the odd premonition that something was going to happen to me. I was beginning to walk further and further into the graveyard, into the older part where the head stones were cracked and crumbling.
