Happy days

Chapter 1

     "The stream tickled the back of Sandy's shoulders... Doll walked over to her. "Sweet summer girl..." "you failed".... hmm maybe not the Sweet Summer Girl... Lady?  Humm, dangit, Argh! Oh! Molly dolly...? NO! That's horrbile! Sure! Sweet Summer Girl Whatev's!"

     My room shook of frustration. What's wrong with my piece!? It's sounds crappy! Bummers! What the hell!

     Anyway, you don't need to fumble in my personal crap. I'm Amy WitherHill, and no, that stuff I was angry about. Nothing Personal. I'm a writer. No, I have not yet published one of my crappy pieces, but I do write. A lot. But I still have a life. With my friends, family...

     I live in an attic. What a swell life, eh? I'm literally paying for someone to let me sleep in their house. I hate it. But it's the only cheap and crappy shelter I can afford. It's not bad though. 
     It's a cozy bedroom, quite dusty, but not too too much. Two big boxes are planted by a wall's corner, left to be untouched together. My bed lays in the far corner, with a roof slanted. The entrance and exit is a floor door with a old wood latter in which gives you splinters. 
     

     Today is my writing Gala. The thing I care about most. My parents are coming, and they expect much from me, and I'm guessing as well as other parents. It's a camp of students in writing courses, It's only for the ending of school time, but It's fun. You gotta cope in helping other people's pieces for a stronger paragraph or whatever. Lot's of people joined, and 4 people are reading in front of the whole gym of people. I'm one of them. My piece is finished, but I desperately want to finish another piece of hard work before the end of summer. 

     I've never found an idea of what to write about so I have decided to move away to another town, just for the summer, to experience travel, and learn a new environment to write in. Somewhere beautiful, not saying Vancouver ain't beautiful but, somewhere different. I'm excited. My parents are not. When I broke the news to them they both suddenly started breaking into tears. It was extremely dramatic and embarrassing, as my best friend, Tony Look, was there, with me, on what you could call.. a friend's date? Anyway, so then I've just decided we go get pizza, while my own parents were crybaby's. 

     They think I'm too young to travel. I'm 15! What the heck, mom and dad! I follow the code of the teenagers. The rules are...wait, there are no rules. Heh. That's the  reason I follow the teenage code. Normal, I guess. 

     I'm walking down the driveway, with the soft sound of petals from colourful tree's falling. I love spring, I would always murmur to myself. It was always a quiet neighborhood. That's why my mom made me live there. So I could focus on writing. Good Idea mom, I thought you noticed, but, I always have noisy people downstairs. But not when they're at work. 

     I turn many corners, walking across streets, turning and walking more and more. I speed up as I walk right into a homeless man. Oops. Son't want to bump into one of those!

     "**** you!" The old man swore with an old crackle in his voice.

     Finally, I've made it. The library. Phew. I walk into the main room of our camp to see mom and dad talking in tow cheap plastic chairs  as well as a whole other lot of people. Surprisingly, It was quiet. Everybody was whispering, as if they are sharing they're greatest secret. 

     I walk in and say hello to mum." Hey, mom. Glad to see you've made it,"

     "Oh! Oh! My darling! Is your piece finished?! Please tell me that it is!" Mom declared strictly." I don't want you going up there empty handed so that the counselor can give you a piece of his mind!"

     "Mom! I have it right here in my hand!" I said shaking paper in the air.

     My mother never liked my counselor, Griff Tollin. He would snap at me, but for the right reason. I like him, my mother doesn't. He's strict and orderly, just like mum. She never understood him. She never wanted to. 

    My mother had a taste in bright orange. So she died her brown hair, orange. She has a fake pimple on her cheek and red lipstick. She has bangs, with the tips of her hair that suddenly curl up. She wore a jean jacket with gold buttons. Underneath was a white tank top with a red wine stain, which would make people think she's a ludicrous person. She wore long white jeans with blue high-heels. 

     Great. Like mom had to humiliate me. Dad was fine. He had also, brown hair, with a red T-shirt and jeans with brown sneakers. Cool. Right on you dad, good job for dressing accurately. 

     Soon the Gala would start. There were cupcakes on white clothed counters, which had candy oranges on top, in any colour you could imagine. I instantly walk over there and grab a cupcake. I chomp down two, right in front of my parents. I was about to grab another one, when a hand swatting my hand from taking another cupcake. Dad. 

     "No more sweet's, sweetie, we don't want you to be sick onstage," Dad suggested worriedly staring right into my blue eyes. 

     "Oh, come on, Dad!" I argued with a mouthful of crumbs, making it hard for my parents to understand what I'm saying. 

     "Amy Witherhill, please come to the stage room with your writing," A voice from the speaker phone cracked.

     My parents instantly hug me very tight."Oh! Good luck, my darling! We love you!"

     I wriggle out of the bear hug and sprint to the backstage, behind a secret curtain.

     Then I see. The most gruesome counselor of all! Ms. Tarfy
     Her black hair curl about, her red lips curled into an evil smile as her fat body got into a stance of evilness.

     "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Ms. Tarfy raised an eyebrow.