My mouth gaped open as wide as possible.

"W-what?" I asked my father skeptically. This couldn't be happening. To ME? It HAD to be the end of the world.

"Yes, Tess, you're visiting Mitchie Torres for the summer." He stated. I let out a shrill scream that was sure to break a vase, or something.

"No, dad, I'll get a poor disease or something! Please, please, please!" I pleaded to him, even – very slowly - getting down on my knees, to complete my begging. He shook his head at me. I slowly sunk down onto our wash white tile floors and quietly hit my head on the fridge.

I ran my fingers up and down the smooth screen on my phone.

"Goodbye baby." I rubbed the phone across the silky-smooth surface of my face. Then, I flipped the phone open, and sent out a small text to my large community of friends.

"HELP! I MIGHT JUST BE ON MY WAY TO DEATH ROAD! I, TESS TYLER, AM GOING TO SOMEONE'S HOUSE, THAT COULD BARELY GO TO CAMP!

XOXO,

Tess"