Second (L.H)

"I saw how smart she was. Her hand was up all the time and she was very quiet. But she was still dumb enough to not know when she was being used."

Luke Hemmings was the new boy in town who was still trying to keep up with drama, stereotypes, and cliques of his high school. He's got his fair share of friends and knows the basics. He may even know more than most about the towns people - except the towns reality show of a family the Kingstone's.

Emmanuelle Kingstone is different than other girls in her town. She is the know-it-all girl who sits straight with her hand ready to raise at a moments notice. She doesn't seem to care about getting the next best sports scholarship or what party is going on that weekend. Though she does still tend to crack under pressure.

Emmanuelle and Luke seems to be the only ones who don't know about a big piece of the towns history, the 'winter wonderland' of 2010. While Luke tried o keep up with this project and slove the puzzle that is Emmanuelle Kingstone he is in for a few surprises. But does this know-it-all know anything at all?

-Updates every Sunday-


2. Second 1



Dear Abigail,

It's been so long! I haven't had to much time to write these last few days, everything has been so hectic since school started up once again. I don't have much to write about, in fact everything is fine! Nothing has been bothersome and I even have my own locker this year because Bridgett is going to be using hers this year since it just-so-happens to be next to the boys bathroom, she may have said it was just luck but I've already heard rumors that she bribed the janitor and has dirt on the principle. Nela and I didn't really keep in touch over the summer but we seemed to have picked up somewhat where we left off on the last day of school.

There is a new kid in my writing class. His name's Luke. He doesn't talk much but we sit together so I guess that makes us acquaintances. I know near nothing about him, he seems nice enough but I don't think I would want to be friends with him. He seems to have no interest in writing so I don't see why he even signed up to be in the class.

I shall write to you soon. Most likely seeing as it's Tuesday I should write on Friday once the week is over. I shall see you then!


P.S. There's something different about you, did you get a hair cut?

No, I guess Abigail isn't a real person that I turn to in my time of need and the time that I need to talk, but she is real. I write to her all the time and though she never writes back it's okay because even fictional people get busy, right? I'm not friendless, in fact I'm friends with the most popular girl in school- though I think I'm more commonly known as 'that girl who hangs out with Nela'. So I'm not popular, I don't have great parents, I'm a nerd who can't seem to get a stupid A in math, all I have is Abigail, and I'm fine with that.

I've never told anyone about Abigail. She's my well kept secret. Being one of the top students in my school doesn't help because everyone of Nela's friends want to borrow my notes. Once I gave my letter notebook instead of my biology notebook to a freshman and piratically tackled her in the hall to get it back. So, I guess you could say there have been some close calls, but never anything that results in Abigail getting loose. I don't think I could share her if the time ever came.

That last sentence in the letter was a joke. Well, I thought it was funny. I never actually met Abigail nor have I ever really sent the letters I go for walks and put them under the same tree in the woods. Its pretty far in but I don't care. I grew up in the woods and the animals don't seen to mind me that much, mind you if I ever tried to touch them I think they would still attack, but it's nice to get a walk in every now and then.

I put my latest letter into a gray-blue envelope and licks the end of the cover. The glue tasted bitter and gave my tongue a rough ticklish feeling. I slipped some jeans over my shorts, grabbed a sweatshirt off my chair and walked out the front door. My parents didn't really care if I went into the woods, it was just down the street from me. My parents were always very consumed in their work.

My hair was swept into my face as I walked down my street towards the community park. The park was nearly empty- just like it always was. No one really came here anymore. The only ones who would come where the teenagers who were smoking something- though it differently wasn't cigarettes. I called them mad hatters because they always had their hats back wards, I never corrected them though.

I waved and smiled as I passed them. They all had on hats, gloves, and they must have been out for a long time because they were slightly shaking. One boy looked up and gave me a look that defiantly wasn't a smile, though I don't really know what it was exactly.

I walked into the forest and down to the tree where I put my letters. It was a willow. It's branches thin and hanging down so there was a canopy covering it's base. This had always been my favorite tree. My father used to take me here when I was younger but now all he does is work. I know he is just trying to earn some extra money so it's alright with me.

I walked trough the leaves and branches so that I made it to the base of the tree where I sat down. I put the letter in the small hole where I put all my letters.

After putting the letter in the hole, I turned and laid back against the trunk. I looked up into the sky through the tree's leaves and branches. The rising sun made the light shine with bright orange and pink. It came through the leaves in small streams. It was breathtaking.

I used to try to climb it, but when I was seven I broke my arm from falling after braking one of the branches. I learned my lesson there. That was the first time I came without my dad. That was one of few times my father has been so mad. I came to the conclusion he never took me here as punishment, though he didn't care when I went by myself.

After about an hour, with the stars out and gleaming, I stepped out of the woods and through the park. The mad hatters were already gone, and the street lights were still lit. On the way back home I passed the white house on the corner of my street with the red porch. It was always a house I was told to avoid growing up. The people who lived there were always yelling and getting into a screaming match. This morning they were quite though. All the lights were off, all the blinds drawn. The only clew anything was alive in that house was the soft rock of rocking chair on the front pork. I couldn't make out the chair, or even who was in it, just the light from the cigarette ablaze in the persons mouth.

I gave a small wave and smile and continued on around the corner to my house. It was a very deep, dark green with a dark drown fence that came around the house like a ring. In front of the porch was a forgotten rose bush, it's untrimmed branches climbed up and around the banisters of our stairs and the railings of our porch. My mother used to be a huge gardening fan, but she suddenly stopped gardening about 4 or 5 years back.

The frount door was unlocked, but I had to slightly kick it with my foot because the house had become slightly croched over the years, though I could never figure out why. I rush up stairs quietly and made my way to the bathroom that was connected to my room.

I brushed my teeth then smiled at the mirror. My teeth had been braces free for about five years now but I still always wanted to check because it surprised me every morning when I woke up with out the metal on my teeth. I took out one blue pill from the self behing the mirror and swallowed it dry. Then, I was out the door and on my way to school.

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