As soon as we get back into our smallish farm house, the phone rang. That might have been suspicious, given our past history of pranks and kidnaps, but I was so tired and out of it I picked up anyway.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hi, is this Kelly?" asked a girl's voice on the other end.
"Depends. Who are you?"
"Sally Higgins."
"Oh my God! Bu...but your...aren't you dead?" I gasped.
Sally Higgins, my best friend for 12 years, helped me crack the case of some nut job who was stalking me to try to steal my valuables, but a few weeks later she realized she caught some exotic flu from the guy's parrot who he carried everywhere on his shoulder. The doctor said she would die in a month, at the latest. On June 1 she was freaking out, and on top of that she was really sick, you could tell just by looking at her. Her last words were for me: "Kelly, you are the best friend in the world. I know I wouldn't be here, dying-" as if on que she started to cough. I squeezed her hand. "-but I know you didn't mean any of this to happen, and I don't regret being your friend. You have always been there for me, so by helping you I was trying to do the same. I did not know this" -she gestured to her messed up icky sick body-"would happen. I just wanted to tell you I don't blame you at all for what will happen. Give my family my love and tell them I will miss them. I'll miss you too, Kelly. And check the bricks, oh-six hundred at four o clock." Then she hugged me (well sort of) and lay on her bed. She closed her eyes and just like that she was gone. I burst into tears, still holding her hand.
Now, 2 months later, I was the sick one, the one in danger. Some part of me thought this was a trap, designed to lure me into another evil lab or something. Another part of me was desperately wishing that is was Sally, my best friend, the one who was dead, but if she was then who was on the phone? This was to weird.
"Kelly? Are you there?" Sally's (possibly) voice brought me back to reality.
"Uh, yeah, but I gotta go...take a nap." I said in a faraway voice. "But if you are Sally, wanna come over? Tomorrow at four? I haven't seen you in forever! You know, I miss you a bunch!"
"OK, four then. Bye, Kelly! See you later!" she replied.
"Bye," I said, then I hung up, my mind racing.
I went upstairs, where my big brother Bobby was waiting, the other phone in his hand.
"I heard the whole thing," he said. "Are you seriously gonna meet up with her? This could be a trap. And you are so sick, do you think you could handle an attack?"
"Don't you think I thought of that?!" I snapped. "I probably just need some rest. It isn't until four, you know."
"Yeah, I know." Bobby told me softly. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Remember Mom and Dad? They died only 2 years ago; we saw it happen. Remember Sally, the real one? Just try to be careful, okay?"
Bobby is a worry wart sometimes, but he really cares about me, and he was right about Mom, Dad, and Sally. It what been super-painful to watch them die, especially because we couldn't do anything to save them. Mom and Dad had been the worse. You see, they worked at a fast food place called Fast Burger, and after school Bobby and I would have needed to go there and wait for their shift to finish. But that place was just to greasy, I knew that even before May 3. But that was the day my suspicions were confirmed. Bobby and I were walking to Fast Burger, same as always, but when we were a block away we smelled smoke. Naturally we started to run but what used to be Fast Burger stopped us in our tracks. It was burned down, completely ashes and smoke. Suddenly we heard an ambulance pull up and carry our wheezing parents away. At the hospital, we saw their burns and knew they wouldn't make it. A day later, as Bobby and I were feeding Mom lunch, Dad flat lined. About 2 hours later, as Bobby and I stared at her, Mom flat lined too. Bobby and I sobbed our heads off for a week, but back then I had Sally. The combined pain of losing them was almost too much to bear.
"Yeah, okay," I told Bobby. "Can I go to bed now?"
"Sure, get into your PJs and I'll read you more of Rebel, kay?" Bobby told me.
"Yeah!" I said, running to the bathroom.
Ever since our parents died it was Bobby's job to take care of me, since I was only 12 years old. But sometimes I forget I'm so young, and I bet Bobby forgets too. I mean, I've been through more heartbreaking (as a figure of speech and for real) situations than the average 47-year-old. But underneath all that I really am just a kid. And this is my story.
I'm not forcing you to read it, though. I'm just saying: if you do, you have to promise that you never tell anyone about me. If you don't read it-well, don't tell anyone what you already read. It's best I'm kept a secret. I hope, if you do wanna read this, that by the end of the book you understand why.
-Kelly Smith
Welcome to my life.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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