Cracked

Laney Silvers is deemed crazy. After a run in with an armed thief, her telekinesis secret is out. Her parents -instead of being thankful they're alive- send her to Marigold Mental Institution for Troubled Teens. Laney, being the rebel of her school, is welcoming the facility with open arms.
But the dark secrets at Marigold Institution may be too much for Laney. Even she doesn't have that much courage. See, something's been awakened but no one will say anything. The name 'Madeleine Farrow' makes the staff cringe. All the mirrors are cracked and windows are all boarded up.
Why are there charred pictures of a child with her face scratched out? What is really going on, right under Laney and her friends' noses?
Laney find herself caught up in a history far crazier than just telekinesis. She must now fight for her life because it may be the only thing she has left.

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2. Chapter 01

Next chapter is here. This may not make sense if you can't follow, but to be completely honest, the two chapters have nothing to do with each other! Well, at least not yet...

 

Chapter 1

            “Are you sure?” Camille looked over to me with a raised eyebrow. Her small, dark eyes looked skeptical. But she had very good reason. Maybe I should’ve stopped, but I was having too much fun.

            After all, we were just about to pull another prank that could’ve gotten us expelled.

            I looked at her with an incredulous expression. “You do realize half of it was your idea, right?” My voice was laced with disbelief and some mirth.

            “Shut up, Laney. You know what I mean. I just don’t want to get expelled. My parents are cool, but you know they aren’t this cool. I’m so dead,” Camille moaned. Her slightly deep voice rang out in anxiety.

            I let out a lighthearted laugh. My parents probably would have yelled at me for hours, but this time, my plan was foolproof. At least, I thought it was foolproof.

            “Chill out Cam,” I mock-snapped in laughter.

            We were currently setting crickets in the ceiling. They were nasty little buggers and since we were skipping class, there was no one in the cafeteria. The ceiling was one that had tiles and could push up.

            We also set up a little explosive that would make a small hole in the ceiling. The button to the explosive was currently in my pocket and I’d have great pleasure pushing it during lunch.

            The crickets would get everywhere. Even though it was only a small hole and there wasn’t much noise, at least fifty crickets would come raining down. Camille and I would be outside, taping the entire thing.

            The clock on the wall was ticking, reminding us that if we were too slow, we’d be dead. Not literally, though.

            Soft footsteps were approaching and I scowled. “Cammie, hurry it up!” My voice held impatience with a bit of anger.

            She looked down from the table and chair she was standing on. Her hand reached out to smack me in the shoulder. “Only my parents can call me Cammie. Don’t you dare,” she threatened in a playfully angry tone.

            I laughed before stepping up on the black circular table and helping her finish. “Hurry,” I whispered in irritation.

            She quickly poured the bag of crickets in the ceiling and covered the tile before any of them could get out.

            We knew what to do after that. The footsteps were getting closer and we both knew they were probably the lunch ladies that came earlier to prepare the food. Believe it or not, the food our school served was actually edible and tasted okay. It was made on mass though, which was kind of gross.

            We cracked the spines of our text books and started pretending to be doing some studying. “Camille, what’s the answer to number two?” I made eye contact with her and she grinned.

            “Why are you asking me? You’re the smart one,” she threw back at me. Her curly hair covered her face as she sunk lower into the text book. Camille was pretty squeamish when it came to teacher interrogation. She didn’t like lying and usually, she’d freak out and start confessing to everything. She was only with me because at the same time, she loved the thrill and it was fun.

            When the lunch ladies came in, they looked at us suspiciously. “What are you girls doing here? Lunch is in half an hour,” one of them reminded. I was regarded as a child in their eyes. Hello, I’m fifteen, I thought irritably.

            Camille’s face started turning red, but I interjected. “The teacher told us to come here because the classroom was too noisy and the library was filled.” I prayed that the really pathetic excuse would work.

            “And Ms. Shield told us that you would be really understanding because we wouldn’t make any trouble,” Camille added in a sincere voice that sounded as genuine as a get-well-soon card.

            “What are your names?” The other one looked like an interrogator. I had a feeling she wasn’t asking to be nice.

            “Laney Silvers, grade ten.”

            “Camille Huang, grade ten.” Camille’s mimic was almost the same, had it not been for the shake in her voice.

            “Fine, but we’ll be in the kitchen.” Translation: Don’t pull anything, I thought rudely.

            We both nodded like model students, but I could tell Camille was enjoying it as much as I was. She was my best friend after all, but most of the time, partner in crime. Her parents weren’t lawyers, but they were able to get her out of almost everything we’d gotten in trouble.

            I couldn’t say the same for my parents.

            They were too busy to bail me out. So I was the second daughter to Camille’s parents. Personally, they didn’t like Camille’s brother so it was fine.

            “This is going to be good,” I whispered to Camille, while our faces were in the text books.

            “Those evil buggers are definitely going to make some people scream.”

            “Wait, are you talking about the crickets, or the textbooks?” I laughed at her skeptical face. Another thing about best friends was that they could spot each others’ humor flaws. I had a lot of those.

            “Just get back to studying before we get into trouble,” she snapped, her face slightly pink.

            “Why? Does this bother you?” I made my voice rise in volume just to prove my point. “Now? What about now?” Each question I asked caused Cam to get slightly more ticked off. First she tried ignoring me, but knowing me, she should’ve known that would’ve never worked.

            She grabbed my arm –rather forcibly may I add– and brought me to stop. “Have I mentioned how much I hate you?”

            “Yep, but life would be boring without me,” I said cheekily. She sighed, knowing I was right. At least, sort of right.

            After that discussion, things got quiet. Camille was actually doing her homework, but I wasn’t going to judge her. It wasn’t like I didn’t do mine either. Our teacher would flip a desk if nobody did their homework.

            I wasn’t a rebel that smoked and drank. Those people were idiots. I was a rebel because it was fun and I needed excitement in life, but it balanced because of my ‘model student’ side. I wasn’t a try-hard either. I didn’t try to pull pranks, I did. Whenever I had an idea in my mind, I’d call Camille up and we’d have fun.

            Our streak was six. Seven today if we didn’t get caught.

            The clock on the wall ticked like the white rabbit, motioning us that we would be late. “Let’s get to the lockers, before everyone gets here,” I suggested quietly.

            We packed up and walked out of the cafeteria quietly. The tiles on the floor were really noisy if you stepped on them and the echo from the room didn’t help wither. Planning a sneak escape was horrible in that room.

            Our floors were boring and grey; same with the walls. We were very sad children, and the principal was an even sadder man. That’s why the bundles of sunshine that were me and Camille helped excite the day.

 No, just kidding.

We were actually considered losers, but we were the only ‘losers’ that could make fun of Populars. It didn’t matter if the football team had muscles and could kill us. As long as we could expose them for what they really were: brainless, we were happy. I tended to do that a lot. That was partly why I had a bunch of the senior cheer team against me. I was a sophomore after all and we didn’t mix.

I had to split with Camille because we couldn’t get our lockers beside each other. I threw a fake fit over it, in hopes I could scare the lady into getting what I wanted. It didn’t work. She threw an even bigger fit for being a disrespectful student.

That didn’t go as planned...

So we were on opposite sides of the school. It was amazing how we managed to find each other every day. Needle in a haystack, I mused.

When I got to the locker, I noticed someone looking at me. “Colster,” I acknowledged coldly.

“Silvers,” he threw right back.

Travis Colster was the residential male rebel. I didn’t know what his problem was, but he was apparently a prank mastermind. That was, before I got to this school. I thought it had something to do with male pride and the fact I was two years younger than him.

“So, pulling something?” He tried to make conversation, but I wasn’t in the mood for his weaseling.

I laughed sarcastically, actually moving faster. My jet black hair fell in my face. Why can’t I find my stupid lunch? I wanted to be out of here, and away from him. But knowing Travis, he’d probably follow me until I lunged at him. Another thing was, I couldn’t fight. I’d punch myself before punching someone else.

            “So, I should tell you?” I thought about the satisfaction of his dark brown hair covered in crickets. Only after did I realize I looked like a complete idiot, staring off into space.

            “Must be brain damage, then,” he mumbled in a slightly British accent. I didn’t pay him any attention before walking off. When I heard footsteps behind me, I turned and glared.

            “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

            “Of course. I’m following you, aren’t I? Now, lead me to where the supposed prank is,” he ordered like I owed him. It was almost laughable that he wanted me to do something for him.

            I laughed once, before walking even faster. He matched my pace and I swiftly turned a few corners to stop him from following me. The bad news was that I ran straight into one of the nicest teachers.

            I’m dead... So dead. Should I start writing my will now? “Oh, Ms. Shields! Funny seeing you here and I have an even funnier story. You see, Colster was chasing me so I started running. Good exercise too, right? But I really have to be going now, so bye,” I said in a garbled mess. Ms. Shields had direct contact to my parents so if she wouldn’t kill me, they would.

            Her hand shot out and grabbed my arm. She was a small, frail Indian lady in appearance, but if you knew her, she’d be anything but weak. “Lanina, what were you doing?” I half-closed my eyes, knowing I was in for an earful. Ms. Shields only called me Lanina when I was about to get into trouble.

            “Running in the halls,” I droned in a sullen voice. Arguing was like trying to get a duck to moo.

            “Now, do you know what the punishment is?”

            “Flogging? Fifty paged essays? Detention? Please, I’ll do all three of those if you don’t call my parents!” She looked at me with a shocked expression. It was probably due to the first punishment.

            “You’d rather get beaten than face your parents? Why?”

            I gulped uneasily. “Well, they get that look of disappointment that lasts for months whenever I do something wrong. It makes me so sad all the time and sadness is not fun. I’m going to take my chances with the flogging, thank you very much.” I made my voice seem nonchalant, when –on the inside– my emotions were a whirlwind.

            She blinked once, before bursting out in laughter. “Dear, you’re excused. It was a one-time thing, I take it. But next time, definitely the fifty page essay,” she joked before getting up and walking off.

            I smiled before getting to the cafeteria in no haste.

            Camille was sitting at the popular table, not giving a care about anything at all. Her feet were propped up on the table and she was smiling to herself. “Heyyo!” My voice was so loud, it made Camille twitch slightly.

            “What happened to you?” She looked a bit ticked off with my time, but I shrugged.

            “Let’s just say I’m definitely going to enjoy Colster’s reaction to the–” I pointed up at the ceiling. She nodded understandingly. She knew my rivalry with Travis, but it wasn’t me who initiated it.

            I actually wanted to be partners with him.

             What was I thinking? Good thing he declined and embarrassed me in front of the whole school. It would have been easier than having to work with his irritating butt.

            “When are you going to accept that you secretly admire him?” Her eyebrow rose slightly and I glared. I did not admire him. He just couldn’t accept that I was better at pranking than he was. I was perfectly fine with that because I already knew I was better and that he was just immature.

            “So, is everything set?” I ignored her remark about Travis and changed the subject.

            “Of course, when have I ever let you down?”

            “Well, there was that time you ditched me for a sale at the mall,” I said, remembering the time. “There’s that time where you promised to give me cookies and you ate them all yourself. How about–” She looked at me with irritation before cutting me off.

            “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m not perfect, but what about you? Little miss trustworthy ditched me for a cup of coffee,” she addressed with a pointed glance.

            I was about to retort when the bell rang. “Time for the fun,” I mused in glee. It was now or never...

 

Next chapter up tomorrow, just cause it has to be up by tomorrow, lol!

- Amelia Neo

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