Welcome to Storm! Please keep all hands, feet, and any other body parts on you that stick out in the vehicle at all times. For those of you with your mind in the gutter, go ahead and giggle away. Har dee har har. :)

Name's Abby, I'm writing this right now, and I appreciate you all reading this. If it sucks, don't tell me. Ignorance is bliss.

I own nada. Zip. Zero. Except for my lovely characters.

Love, Abby. Xoxo.

Chapter One

Back in the Day...

Abby Shale - age 16

Location - Fifth hour American History

The intercom in the room made a loud doorbell type of sound, and Mary Jay's voice filled the room, making me and a few other kids wince.

"Mrs. Bolito? Could you send Abby Shale to the office please?" Mrs. Bolito looked up at the intercom, as if it was a person, and answered it with a happy chirp. I quickly gathered my stuff up into one arm and yanked the door open, giving one last glance to my best friend Nicole, who was looking at me with a worried expression. I hurried down the hall, passing the janitor, Robbie, who was sweeping the floors. I lifted my head and smiled quickly at him, then almost sprinted to the office. Mary Jay looked up at me from scowling at a stack of papers while talking lowly on the phone and motioned to the councilor's office. My stomach flipped. Not mom. Please God, not mom. I set my books on the counter and walked into the office slowly, hoping that maybe if I walked slow enough, the terrible news would disappear. It never worked though.

For the last year of high school, I lived with my Nan. Nan was actually named Betsy, but people called her Bets or Bet. Nana Bets. Which was shortened to Nan when I was born, much to the dislike of the boys. Oh, the boys. My brothers actually, named Daniel and Luc Shale. They were twins, but they were definitely not the same people. Daniel was the oldest, but only by two minutes, and had a hankering for anything mechanical. He built his first engine when he was eleven years old with the help of our Uncle Stitches. He was called Stitches because he had had stitches thirty two times and counting. The man was a mess. Luc on the other hand, was all books. He was a library, filled with poems and novels and short stories, autobiographies and how-to books. But both of them were amazing older brothers who stuck up for me and would give me the clothes off of their backs. They'd just knock me down and tease me first.

So, fast forward a bit. Get this scene in your head:

A hearse is sitting on the gravel drive in the back of the old cemetery. Big Oak trees sit tall, shading the latest funeral's attendants from the warm sun. There are chairs set up all around a big, gaping hole in the ground, and a casket is being lowered into it. It's sunny out, and there is a soft September breeze. The air smells like flowers, grass, and newly unearthed soil. All you can hear are soft cries, murmurs, and the gravel crunching under bare feet running down the road.

That person running? Yeah, that's me. Running away from my mother's funeral, barefoot. Why you may ask? Well, it's kind of hard to run in heels on a gravel road. Oh, you mean why am I running from my mom's funeral? Well, let's see. My father (that's his legal title. I have to call him that. I would have rather called him the demon spawn... but I can't cause he paid for my car insurance) brought some floozy, who probably isn't even entitled to being called a floozy because she is so plain, to my mother's funeral. Pardon my French, but who the fuck brings a date to their dead ex-wife's funeral!? Can you see how much this enraged me? I mean, and then the bitch has the nerve to come up to me and give me a hug! And, being the outspoken kind of girl that I am, I pulled away from her, looked her in the eye, and said "What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Actually, that was just the beginning. I went off on a semi-quiet rant, trying to get how wrong this situation was through her thick, idiotic skull. She smiled, and walked away, sauntering (or at least trying to with her nonexistant hips that were hidden under an ugly, knee length black dress) towards my demon spawn of a father, hugging him and giving him a kiss while scowling at me. So this is how my story starts. With a death, some family, and an ugly woman who was about to ruin my life. My name is Abigail Cassia Shale, and I am a disaster. Welcome to my world.