Kat here with the first chapter of an all new fic that I'm writing with my best friend Alexa! You may not know my best friend in the whole universe, Alexa R, but we are alternating writing chapters for this fic. Don't worry, she's an awesome writer. As you can tell, we don't have boyfriends... or lives. But anyway, on with the summary.
So, this is a Troypay, or Troyella, or both, whichever Alexa decides on. On with the story!
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So there I was, sobbing silently, sitting by the tombstone, among the many, that read:
RYAN JACK EVANS
1990-2006
WE WILL MISS YOU!
Flashbacks were running through my head. I can remember exactly how I woke up, and saw my father was a big pile of sweat and he barely had a pulse. I hesitated to call 911, but it was already too late. He was dead. Apparently, he had a heart attack in his sleep.
ALBERT SEAN EVANS
1969-2004
YOU STILL LIVE IN OUR HEARTS!
My mom have already died before (in a car accident), so now I am all alone. That's three deaths in two years. I don't know where I went wrong, but I was there both times, and could've done something, but I didn't. Now, they were laying in the ground in peace right next to each other. My mom's tomb read:
SHERRIE MARIDETH EVANS
1971-2004
WE WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER
It was past midnight so I thought I'd better go home. I had now left New Mexico and lived in Montana. As I was walking all alone in the dark, the white snow crunching under my tan kick off boots, I finally started to realize that I could have done something about it. His life was in my hands and I ruined it. He could be alive right now but no. I could have just stayed calm and I could've called 911 a little faster.
"I should just stop thinking about it… yeah, that's it, stop thinking about it." My angel side told me. "But it's all my fault!" The devil on my shoulder disagreed. "I know I shouldn't say that, but I can't help it, I made a lot of mistakes, and if I didn't make those mistakes, he would still be here today with me."
That is when I realized that I probably look like a total idiot talking to myself. So I traveled the rest of the journey to my foster parents', Hannah and Marcus's house silently, but still thinking about what I could've done, but didn't.
When I arrived at Hannah and Marcus's house, which I insited wasn't my home, so that's why I called it Hannah and Marcus's house, I stepped in the doorway and called, "Hannah, Marcus, I'm back!" tearfully.
"Shh! You'll wake up the others!" Hannah said, pressing her finger to her lips. Hannah and Marcus were African American foster parents of ten children under the age of seventeen.
"Oh, right." I sighed.
"So, where've you been for the past, oh, four hours?!" Hannah asked angrily.
"I was at my family's tombs. My real family! You know, the ones who actually looked liked me, and actually paid some attention to me because I wasn't one of ten kids in their house?!" I yelled, tears falling freely from my eyes.
"Sharpay Lyndie Marshall, do not yell at me!" Hannah yelled right back.
"Hannah, my name is Sharpay Marideth Evans! I don't want your last or middle names! I don't want your kids as my siblings, and I don't want to live in this old, moldy, stinking house!" I gathered up my coat and purse and ran out of the house.
"Sharpay, wait!" One of my foster sisters, Abagail, called, walking out of the house with her teddy bear still clutched in her hand.
I slowed down and stopped. I turned around.
"Sharpay, please don't leave! Who will ever take care of me if you leave?" She cried.
"Abby, I'm sorry, but I can't stay here. I love you and all of the other kids, but this place is not the right place for me to be." I hugged her, as she had walked up to me while I talked. I stood up and waved as I walked to the train station alone in the cold, my breath visible in the air.
"One ticket to Albuquerque, New Mexico, please." I said as I got the remainder of my money out of my purse.
"That'll be seventy-five dollars." The man said, holding out a ticket.
I winced. "I only have forty-one dollars and eighty-eight cents." I said sadly.
"Ma'am, I can't sell you the ticket unless you have the right amount of money." He said.
"Here young lady, I'll pay the extra thirty-two twelve." A kind, elderly woman offered.
"Thank you so much." I thanked her graciously.
She simply smiled.
I could hardly believe I was going across the US unaccompianed. I didn't know where I'd sleep, or eat, or work, or anything. All I knew was that was where I truly belonged.
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Alexa is going to write the next chapter.
R&R
Kat
