The Living VS The Dead: Chapter 2
By: Sandy Riedel

“Stephanie…” Lisa said, almost weak-sounding. “You don’t need to save me. Save yourself. We may both die if we try going inside.”

I shook my head. “You’re not going to convince me to not try to save you, Lisa. We will figure out a way to get in there. You just have to trust me.”

*This is a fanfic set loosely in the Whateley Academy series. That series is great. I'll edit this to add the real disclaimer that's supposed to be here when my internet is faster. This is going to move slowly and there is cursing. You have been warned.*

Chapter 1: The more you ask, the more I say
I woke up to darkness. It was Saturday. Through the night I'd felt as though there was something going wrong but I couldn't place it, quite. My head felt funny, like it had expanded. The soft glow of my computer's monitor could still be seen over my immobile feet from my vantage point at the head of the bed. It was a Saturday. I was sleeping in: it was around ten o'clock, though I normally woke up much later, closer to 12 or 1. I wish I remembered more ... it's really a blur what happened next. I have a tendency to block out my emotions. There was a knock at the door. I was crying and I couldn't understand why. The knock was soft and quailing. Through my sobs I couldn't hear the other person crying, but I knew they were, somehow. They entered the door. It was my aunt Lily, who lived four states away and was the most caring and least rational person I knew in my family, simultaneously. She believed in Wicca, though my own blasphemous atheist thoughts were tolerated nicely. Dabbing at her eyes she seemed almost like she couldn't talk, and choked before letting go with a single sentence:
"Rick and Gloria are dead."

He knew he was going to catch some flack for the choice he made.

That's what he thought as he rummaged through his duffle bag.

Instead of a baseball gove, cleats, bat, helmet and uniform, he pulled out his ballet shoes, dance belt and unitard, not exactly the uniform of choice for most boys his age.

"Company warmups in five minutes, Max!" a voice yelled from the other side of his dressing room door.

"I'm coming," he said, rushing to get dressed.

Allergies Suck - Chapter VI
by Barbara Lynn Terry

Part IX - Shopping, talking, last minute details.

Why is a seven year old boy standing in front of a rack of dresses in a department store? He's not sure himself but Mom seems to know the answer.

“Well what do you know, I knew it had to happen sooner or later, Janie it looks like your li’l sister is finally over her tomboy phase.”

Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008

My first day at Park Side Elementary School, my teacher, Ms Midler has given us our homework assignment for the weekend, an essay or short story, truth or fiction, on what we did this summer.

I don’t think she will believe this one but she did say it could be truth or fiction.

Can a boy get over his own issues with returning to something he formerly enjoyed in order to fill in for a girl he secretly has a crush on?

Square Dance Stand In

Copyright 2011 by Heather Rose Brown
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Chapter 2
The next time I woke up, about 9 of the 16 girls had woken up. Jane and Claire were among the ones who had woken up, and gave me a warm smile as I sat up, wiping the sleep from my eyes. In about 30 minutes, everybody had woken up, and they were chatting away. I sat there kind of awkwardly, staring at nothing. That’s when a little voice said in my ear,
“Boo!” I jumped straight up, but then slipped and fell on my butt. I turned around and saw Claire. She gave me a smile then giggled.

4/6/21
I don’t really know where to start this, I guess the beginning is as good a place as any. My twin sister and I were born at 11:11:11 am on 11/11/11, or at least that is what our mother says. I doubt we were both actually born at that time, but she won’t fess up and say which one of us is older. My vote is I am, since I am so much more mature than sis, if it wasn’t for her my life wouldn’t be so messed up right now. I wish I could just be myself, but instead I have to be like her. In classes, I’m made fun of because of it.