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Death Row; Should I publish?
Topic Started: Mar 29 2008, 05:01 AM (304 Views)
Yankee Blaze
Member Avatar
Flaming Chicken
This is pretty much a rough draft of it, but here's what I have so far:
Death Row

SUMMARY: Three teens have troubled lives. One teenager has her parents both arrested for murdering her sister, another one has his brother arrested for manslaughter and drugs, and one specifically had a normal life until his father was shot by a racist gunman. When the gunman comes to town to complete his job, it’s up to the teenagers to solve the crime, especially if the cop’s son wants to have justice on his father’s death…

Chapter 1

“Oh sweetie, did you pack your lunch for school?” asked my mom.

I rolled my eyes with quick motion. I walked to the kitchen to grab a fruit when suddenly my mom came downstairs. Her brown hair was curled up with purple curls and her nightgown was pink. I swear to God, with the sapphire blue eyes and the white face cream all over her face, she was almost an exact duplicate of what the Easter Bunny should be.

“Look at you,” she said, “You should go upstairs and do one of the following things.”

I turned around and looked at her. My eyes glared at her like a cobra ready to eat its prey.

“What do you mean? Do you even have a list?” I asked.

She caught what I said. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a piece of paper that was on top of her pile known as “the pile of bills.” The list was written in blue ink and it said the following:

THINGS TO DO ON THE WEEKDAYS

1. Make Lunch
2. Shave
3. Brush Teeth
4. Do Homework
5. Cut Lawn
6. Pick Up Jaimie From School

“What the-,” I was about to ask, but my mom caught me in time.

“Finish that sentence and I’ll ground you. Now, get to it. You know, if your father was around, he wouldn’t be hearing any of this nonsense!” my mom said.

I walked up the stairs. No sooner I get up on the platform to go up, my mom yelled at me with another question, which to me was inquisition: an insult to my authority at home.

“Did you make your lunch?” yelled my mom.

“Duh,” I responded back.

“HEY!” she yelled loudly, “That’s not an answer!”

“It’s a yes in teen language. Get with it!” I said as I walked to the top of the stairs and closed the door to the bathroom. As I went to the medicine cabinet, she flung the door open and smacked me across the face. My hand went to my left cheek which was on fire with a red mark shown according to the mirror, which depicts appearances perfectly.

“Now, listen closely. Lose the attitude. I don’t want to see it when you return at five,” she said.

I got up as she walked to her room. I looked at my appearance. The black hair, the brown eyes, the medium build I have and the tan skin complexion of my body. I also noticed that I was wearing a white t-shirt with beer stains. My eyeballs were red and my head was aching. I saw the liquid stains on my black jeans. No wonder I was a wreck. I slept like this last night. I couldn’t remember because I was too drunk to remember. Well, I might as well tell you why.

I’m just getting through the death of my father. He died two months ago. He was a Police Officer of Orange County and a famous one. He cracked down on so many criminals that the crime rate decreased rapidly. Well, until March of last year. My dad was at a retirement party and he was sniped by an unknown gunman. The cops investigated this and he was going to hit on my family. He despised interracial people and could not stand it. He murdered six other couples and their families. Even with all the dead families, I still think to myself, ‘Why did Dad have to die?’ My mom and I never got along at all since the beginning and we still don’t. I’m eighteen and she’s treating me like I’m seven. But, the good news for me is that I’m leaving for college in August, so freedom will be here before I know it.

I checked my watch. It was nearly seven thirty in the morning on my watch. I had to grab my backpack and drive my next door neighbor, who is my best friend named Jackson. Jackson is the party animal. He gets the alcohol from his dad’s forbidden chest and we would often get drunk on that stuff once a month and my mom or his parents would be oblivious to everything when it comes to situations like this. Well, Jackson came a long way. His brother was arrested for drug dealing and manslaughter in the first degree. I felt sorry for Jackson, because his brother was going to prison. He thought I shouldn’t be because of the fact that I’m the son of a cop and I should be abiding by society and society’s rules. I used to live that way, but not anymore. Ever since my dad died, the tables have turned. He knows all about me, my past life, hell even the name change. There were no secrets between us. That was how we bonded and we comment on a lot of things, like who’s hot, who’s not and the girls on the dirty magazines that his brother kept under his bed. Ah, that was the life. Well, until Jackson’s parents burned them, then our fun was ruined. My idiotic mom, as ludicrous as she was grounded me for a week. But, that didn’t really go well, because I would sneak out and she wouldn’t notice. Nevertheless, I ran downstairs and ran toward the car. It was my dad’s 1987 Toyota Tercel and for something like that to be so obsolete, the car still runs like it’s new. I threw my backpack in the truck and opened the front door. I sat down comfortably, and put on my seat belt. I closed the door and turned on the car with the keys. The engine ignited and I put the car in reverse. I began to back out slowly and looked at the traffic from both directions. I turned the wheel to the left, once traffic was clear and I was at least ninety degrees from the driveway. The car was put into drive and I drove to my next door neighbor’s driveway. He opened the front door from his house. He was walking to my car with the weird attire. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a white bunny and a red bowtie with khaki shorts. I rolled my eyes in disgust and began to think, ‘Why would you wear that shirt? Think about it. The principal could stop you and tell you the shirt is offensive.’ Usually, I could go for it, but I know my limits. He got in the car, and looked at me.

“Oh my God, you shaved!” said Jackson.

I rolled my eyes and looked at him.

“Thanks,” I said.

I didn’t touch the parking brake and he looked at me, like I had ten heads or something.

“Uh Frank, are we going to get out?” asked Jackson.

I looked at him. The blonde hair and blue eyes proved that he was acting innocent. I’m like my father and I can go through the innocent routine in a nanosecond.

“Stop being innocent, and please change the shirt,” I said.

“Girls wanted to date me!” said Jackson.

“Excuse me, with that shirt? Last time, you got a three hour and I bailed you out,” I said, “Now, let’s not let that happen again.”

He reluctantly got out of the car, changed to a blue collared shirt, and we got on our way. However, we were like two minutes away. To my mom, there was no point in driving to school. However, the seniors have to show that they’re all powerful and robust. My mom thought it was wrong to bring the car to school to do such a thing, but I was doing this to annoy her. It's my job as a teenager. We got to the senior parking lot and pulled up to the nearest parking spot. Unfortunately, I don’t think our fun was going to go anywhere. A pink car came up next to mine. She got out of the car and slammed the door. Her name was Cassie: Cassie Bruno. And boy was she hot! Her hair was died crimson with green eyes and she wore a white t-shirt, black jeans and a black leather jacket. She would smoke in school too, because she often likes to smoke cigarettes.

“Out of this spot, you jerk! Tina is going to park here,” she said.

“Tina?” I asked, “Oh yeah, the girl who is eight months pregnant!”

“HEY!” she yelled, “You need to treat a lady with some respect!”
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