13 years
From Create Your Own Story
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| - | ''Okay, this | + | ''Okay, this WASN'T supposed to be a CYOA story, but this is a CYOA site, so I will do that. I will not change the flow of the story, but choices will begin to be made'' |
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| - | To think | + | To think, 10 years ago, I was a little baby boy in my mothers' arms; happy, perfect, without a care in the world. And now I am locked up for life. |
| - | My name is Johny. I am 13 years old. And you'd think a young kid like me would be having the time of his life, right? Getting with girls, experiencing the outside world, friends, even school for that matter. You would | + | My name is Johny. I am 13 years old. And you'd think a young kid like me would be having the time of his life, right? Getting with girls, experiencing the outside world, friends, even school for that matter. You would expect that these are the best years of my life, right? |
| - | Then why am I in | + | Then why am I in juvie? |
It's kind of a long story. If you have time for a long story, I'd be happy to share with you. | It's kind of a long story. If you have time for a long story, I'd be happy to share with you. | ||
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| - | Well, it all started about a month ago. I was in the punk side of the neighborhood | + | Well, it all started about a month ago. I was in the punk side of the neighborhood: gangs, thefts, crime, all that shit. "You better just not look back" my mom would say to me. I knew what she meant. It meant that you just needed to keep on going, 'cause in this neighborhood, if you're found with a weakness, your life will become hell. |
| - | Now, I'm not the gangster-type. Actually, I'm sort of a nerd. Okay, not a nerd, but I am pretty smart. Smart enough to stay out of that shit, anyway. I was going to school one day, and my friend Alex | + | Now, I'm not the gangster-type. Actually, I'm sort of a nerd. Okay, not a nerd, but I am pretty smart. Smart enough to stay out of that shit, anyway. I was going to school one day, and my friend Alex came up to me, and said "Hey, Johny. Look what I found." He pulled a plastic bag out of his backpack, filled with some mysterious white powder. |
| - | "What is it?" I asked | + | "What is it?" I asked, but I knew the answer before he told me. |
"It's crack. What's it look like?" | "It's crack. What's it look like?" | ||
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"What, are you gonna rat on me?" | "What, are you gonna rat on me?" | ||
| - | "No, but if you get caught and I'm | + | "No, but if you get caught and I'm questioned, I'm not gonna lie." |
| - | "So what | + | "So, what you're saying is.....you don't want any?" |
"Why the hell would I want any?" | "Why the hell would I want any?" | ||
Current revision as of 22:11, 15 June 2011
Okay, this WASN'T supposed to be a CYOA story, but this is a CYOA site, so I will do that. I will not change the flow of the story, but choices will begin to be made
To think, 10 years ago, I was a little baby boy in my mothers' arms; happy, perfect, without a care in the world. And now I am locked up for life.
My name is Johny. I am 13 years old. And you'd think a young kid like me would be having the time of his life, right? Getting with girls, experiencing the outside world, friends, even school for that matter. You would expect that these are the best years of my life, right?
Then why am I in juvie?
It's kind of a long story. If you have time for a long story, I'd be happy to share with you.
Well, it all started about a month ago. I was in the punk side of the neighborhood: gangs, thefts, crime, all that shit. "You better just not look back" my mom would say to me. I knew what she meant. It meant that you just needed to keep on going, 'cause in this neighborhood, if you're found with a weakness, your life will become hell.
Now, I'm not the gangster-type. Actually, I'm sort of a nerd. Okay, not a nerd, but I am pretty smart. Smart enough to stay out of that shit, anyway. I was going to school one day, and my friend Alex came up to me, and said "Hey, Johny. Look what I found." He pulled a plastic bag out of his backpack, filled with some mysterious white powder.
"What is it?" I asked, but I knew the answer before he told me.
"It's crack. What's it look like?"
"Why the fuck would you have that on school grounds? More importantly, why would you tell me? Now I'm involved."
"What, are you gonna rat on me?"
"No, but if you get caught and I'm questioned, I'm not gonna lie."
"So, what you're saying is.....you don't want any?"
"Why the hell would I want any?"
"Well that's what I came over here for."
"Well, forget it. I have to get to class."
Ringggggg! That was the bell. I went into my homeroom, Algebra 1, and my teacher was Mrs. Henter.
I sat down in my seat, and began to write in my planner.
To be continued...
