Children of the Corn: Emma's Story

Look, I didn't want to be one of them. I wanted to have a normal childhood, a normal name, friends, a career, but luck doesn't seem to find me. My name is Emma. Emma Avery. That was, up until I stumbled into the town of Gatlin, Nebraska.

I grew up in New York. Yeah, the Big Apple. That was the life. Skyscrapers, Broadway, booming social life. I even had a cute boyfriend, Justin. Talking about him now, it hurts my heart too much to know I'm never going to see him again. This was all about 2 years ago, when I was 14. That's when my life went down the toilet. You see my Dad, John Avery, was a really important business man. We lived together in our apartment in Manhattan. My mom dropped out when I was like, 2 or something. So we lived on our own for a pretty long time. I liked it that way, a lot. So well, you probably wanna hear my story now. Well here it goes:

"Dad, where are we?" I complained as we sped down the road. He checked the GPS. "Looks like we're in Nebraska, honey." He said dryly and turned up the radio slightly. I rolled my eyes and scrolled through the songs on my Ipod. Don't get me wrong, I don't act like this all the time, it's just that we've been driving for about 20 hours and all we saw were fields of corn. It's pretty tough staying occupied for too long. I checked my inbox on my cell phone.

2 New Message from: Justin33 and Auntie Raylene

E, come back home soon, I really miss u luv u, j

Hey Emma! Looking forward to seeing you here in Cali! Cousin Maya can't wait to see you! Tell John to move that car faster! Love, Auntie Raylene.

I smiled to myself and held back a giggle as I shot back replies to both.

Message could not be sent at this time.

"Fuck," I cursed under my breath. "No service."

"What was that, Ems?" Dad asked. "I don't remember saying anything that would make you say 'Fuck' " He smiled playfully.

"There's no service, Dad. Stupid corns probably blocking the signal." I replied as I turned my phone off and shoved it into my duffel. He casually rolled his eyes with a smile and a shake in the head as he continued on driving. After a few rounds of Eye-Spy, the boredom began to kick in.

"Dad, can we stop somewhere to eat?" I groaned and placed my feet on the dash. He shot me a stern Don't-Start look but continued to press on. After several more hours of this, I pointed out the window to this shabby looking gas station.

"Look Dad! A gas station! Can we please buy like a Ice-e? Pleasee I'm dying." I pouted and fanned my mouth with exaggeration.

"Well would you like an Ice-e now or a Ice-e once we get to Los Angelos? C'mon Em I want to get mileage today so we'll be in California soon."

I groaned and gave him "The Look" he rolled his eyes with a smile and pulled into the lot. Yeah, I'm a Daddy's Girl, is that so wrong? We saw a greased-covered man under a truck as we hopped out of the car.

"Hey mister!" Dad hollered as we hopped out of the car. The old man looked up with a sneer and turned back to his work.

"Got no gas," he said with his eyes fixed under the car. "Got nothing?" Dad turned around and made a cuckoo sign at me. I laughed and tried to hold it back. As soon as my laughter rang through the air, the man brought his head straight up and fixed his gaze on me. With his chubby finger pointed at me he shook, "Get the girl out of here." Dad looked questionably at him and asked, "What?"

"Go to Hemingford. Bring your troubles with you." He got up and walked inside the shack behind the truck. "Just go on now, and don't go back." He slammed the door shut.

"The Hell?" Dad muttered to himself as he walked up to the glass windows. I grabbed his sleeve. "Dad, c'mon he's scary let's go." We pulled away from the window and got back into the car.

"Where did he tell us to go? Hemingford?" Dad asked as we pulled out of the lot and sped down the road.

"Yeah, I think. But Dad, can we speed up a little? He really gave me the creeps." I said cautiously as I turned around to look out the back window. He laughed.

"Ems, he was crazy. Relax. We'll soon be kicking it easy in Cali as soon as we pass Hemingford."

"You're right." We laughed and cranked up the volume to the stereo. That was probably the last genuine time I spent with my father.