Chapter 3!!!!

 

Here's Chapter Three of my story!!!

 

THE NONSENSE PLACE

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

Layla kept on teasing.  Then Dylan, for the first time in her life, lost her temper.  Her fists started clenching, her face got fire red, and you could see deep seething anger in her hazel eyes.  Then she did something I knew that she would always regret: She punched Layla.  And hard.  The kind of hard where there leaves a big painful mark.  The teacher saw it.  Dylan was taken to the principals office.  I have mixed emotions of shock, anger, happy, and sad.

I'm shocked because Dylan would never do that in her life; she was such a gentle creature.  Anger, becasue I hate violence and that is not the answer; Happy, becasue Layla totally deserved that; and Sad, because I feel bad that she has to go through this.  To top it off, Dylan gets detention for 2 weeks.  Layla and her friend, Haley, are laughing their heads off.  I can't watch anymore. 

I soar back to The Nonsense Place as fast as I can.  I couldn't take it.  I hate my stupid death, that stupid hurricane, how dumb I was to beg my parents to take me to the beach.  If I never went to the beach, none of this would have ever happened, I think to myself.  I, Pattie Anne Maureen Dennis, hate myself.  My stupid, stupid mind.  To make myself stop feeling bad about myself, I go to the Willow tree that smells like roses.

I always loved Willow trees and roses.  This is a perfect combination.  Dylan loves Dogwood's and daises.  That's a perfect combination, too.  My mother and father's hearts are broken.  Even my Snouzer-Poodle mix dog, Fuzzball, seems to be crying and missing me too.  He just isn't as hiper as he was when I was around.  To make things worse, my mom and dad have started fighting more ever since I died.  Their even thinking about getting a divorce.

No.  Not a divorce.  A divorce is the next worst thing next to death.  Maybe even one notch up.  Divorce.  I hate, hate, hate it.  My death messed up my plans for the future, too.  I wanted to become a writer or a journalist, like Anne Frank.  Anne Frank is my hero.  She's dead, and she has to be here somwhere; I just can't find her.  I just can't find Anne.  Why? I can't find any girl or boy or man or woman, except me and the golden haired girl.  I am frustrated becasue the girl won't tell me her name.  Why won't she tell me her name?

She probably won't tell me how she died.  But I want to try anyway.  "Seriously, what is your name and how did you die?" I asked.  "If you really need to know," she says, "my names Crystal James and I died of Smallpox." Smallpox.  Wasn't there a vaxination for it? "Didn't you have a vaxination shot when you were born?" I asked.  "I don't know," she says.  "My parents were jerks and careless.  See for yourself."

 

END OF CHAPTER THREE