I had been in cabin six for a few weeks now, and the drama has only just started to wear off. I had been eating lunch, when someone poked my shoulder.
I turned around, and was welcomed by a smiling face. He was relatively tall, and the first thing I noticed was his eyes. They were forest green, and fairly large. His hair was a dark brown. It was short, yet shaggy.
"Hello? Anybody there?" He asked. I shook my brain out of it's daze, and plastered a smile on my face. "Hi! I don't think we've met. You are?" He smiled.
"I'm Andrew. Andrew Parkson. I recently moved into cabin five." I nodded. "Nice. I'm Brooklyn. Brooklyn Thompson." He nodded. "I've heard of you. The others in cabin five won't shut up. I've kind of been forced to listen." I laughed slightly.
"I've heard. Remember? I live across from you." We both laughed, and Andrew sat down next to me. "So, what happened to you?" I asked. Andrew sighed, and slumped his shoulders.
"My mom used to beat me, and my dad was too drugged up to care." Before I could ask, he said, "Mainly, she'd hit me with a baseball bat in the chest, and the legs." I looked at his legs, and saw marks, that looked very much like my back.
"Ouch. I'm surprised you can still walk after that." I commented. He looked down at his leg. "Ya, I'm still surprised." He replied with a slight smile. He turned his head back to me. "You?" I came out of my daze, which tends to happen to me a lot.
"What?" I asked, a little confused. Andrew rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. "What happened to you, that landed you here?" I stiffened. Not even Johanna knows the full story.
Except when she had to hear it in court. I had to think of something to tell him, to get him off my case. "Think Brooklyn, think!" I thought madly.
"Oh! You surely know the full story already." I said, hoping not to tell my story. Once is enough for my lifetime. Andrew got a pouty expression on his face. "Why not?" Not missing a beat, I replied, "Why would I?"
Not waiting a second, he said, "Because I'm curious about your story, and I want to be your friend." Thoughts swirling in my mind, I managed to think, "Damn, this kid is quick."
"Well, just because I want to be your friend too, doesn't mean I have to tell you my story. I mean, trauma isn't our lives. It just effects them." Andrew opened his mouth to speak, but didn't say anything.
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When She Was Put Back Together Again
Teen FictionBrooklyn. Poor, poor Brooklyn. After surviving a physically and emotionally abusive father, she has to try to regain control of her life. When her mom sends her off to a school for other kids dealing with similar trauma, she meets someone who maybe...