Hey guys! So, I was told to post a chapter of the book my friend and I are writing every week. So here:
I hear them knock. My heart pounds in my chest. The rusty old kettle clatters in the old, mildew covered sink. My little brother comes through the door, his dark, dirty face worried.
“A.J.,” he says to me fearfully. “Is that them? Are they here?”
“I don’t know Adam,” I respond. My eyes travel to the small suitcase packed with the barest of necessities. Our family had been fearing the day when the Apollo men would come for us. They had come the week before and taken almost fifty children from our sector. Luckily, my brother, Adam had not yet reached the required age of 7 and was safe; for now. But I was two years younger than the maximum age of 18.
I slowly walk to the door, holding my breath, praying that it was my best friend Thalia, considering how hard she hits the door. We had broken two hinges that way. I cautiously open the door. Two men with large green helmets the color of our dead bushes barged in the door.
“Quargnark!” I yell. It was Adam and I’s safe word in case the men came. Adam shoves my ratty old suitcase into my outstretched hand. The men drag me away, clearly expecting me to yell and cry, but I did not. I had been expecting this ever since I reached the age of seven. Instead, I look at the sweet face of my brother and say, “Goodbye, my true friend. I will love you always and forever.”
“I love you, my friend, my sister, my protector,” Adam responds. The men drag me away. As the green clad men dragged me down the street, I notice Thalia also being carried towards the truck, only, she was not “coming quietly”. She was kicking and screaming and trying to aim punches, but the men were much too strong for her. I turn away, horrified and worried of what they might do if She doesn’t calm down. I look in front of me instead. The large dirt colored trucks stand waiting for us all. All around me I hear the screams of mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters and the cries of babies and the young children being ripped from their families.
The green men throw me onto the hard, dirty floor of the truck. I look around me as I set down my suitcase. Many dirt-covered faces look curiously at me. But I notice just one — just one — friendly face smiling at me. The young face is covered in dirt, but I see through it and find the familiar freckle covered face that I had laughed, cried and talked with for nearly 15 years. It was my beloved friend Thalia. We cry and hug each other as though we would never let go.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice another face that had teased, poked and laughed at and with me: Thalia’s brother, Thomas. They are twins, but could not be more different. While Thalia and I are very excited (I less excited than her) Thomas is very calm and collected even in the harshest of situations. While Thalia has light, strawberry tinted, blonde hair, Thomas looks quite handsome with his light dirty blonde hair. The only secret that I have never shared with my friend Thalia was that I have quite the crush on Thomas.
The truck rattles and moves very violently as it drives down the bumpy, hole covered road. As all of the young passengers bounce around, I take the time to look at my best friend. She has long (barely past her butt!), luscious, thick, strawberry tinted, blonde hair and is covered with freckles head-to-toe. She has gorgeous eyes that I envy greatly. They are large and bright and look as though they have all the colors of the rainbow embedded in them with long dark eyelashes framing them. Thalia is just the right size at width and height with long legs and slight curves, though she likes to complain that she is short. She has never been as skinny as the other children, especially me (you could see my ribs through my skin), but she definitely isn’t fat either, as you can see her ribs through her skin to, but not as much as mine. She is very well built, as am I; we are both incredibly strong from running and hunting and climbing, and of course acrobatics.
As for me, I have very dark skin, with deep, dark, almond shaped eyes. My hair is short and curly, which I hate, but it could come in handy. I am a few inches taller than her, but we never discuss that much; it is a sore subject for both of us.
As my curiosity gets the better of me, I peer under the musty curtain that separates my inmates and I from the harsh dust and sun; however it does nothing to protect us from the sweltering heat.
I could only keep my head outside for a few moments, but a few moments was all I needed. In front of us stands a tall, blue window covered tower with many other buildings that are made of all sorts of materials and painted many different colors, that I knew by name from the few books I had, but had never seen in such vibrancy and brightness before. I pull my head back inside, fastening the curtain tightly behind me, as to not let the dust from the road inside. I consider speaking to Thalia, but decide against it as we are in such close proximity to other passengers.
I silently and surreptitiously motion for Thalia to look out the curtain too. She seems to get the hint and carefully pokes her head out the window as I had done. Mere seconds later, her head comes quickly back inside the smelly truck. Her eyes, which now gleam a beautiful ruby red in the musty, barely lit truck, shine excitedly. I motion for her to resume her sad, humbled look, which she does, quite reluctantly,though her eyes still gleam in excitement.
I am quite excited as well, though I fight nearly as hard as I had not to cry when the men took me, as I do now, trying not to squeal with excitement and share ridiculous imaginings with my best friend. But I certainly was imagining things in my head of course; so to silent my busy thoughts I looked ahead and wondered…