A/N: Hi to all! This is my first attempt of a story so please be patient
with me. I fully intend to complete this story and will definitely update
every week if not quicker. And thanks to Pinky who taught me to love
writing.
Chapter 1: The despicable cockroach
My Summer Vacation
By Tracy Winterman
This summer vacation my ^^
See that indecipherable mark there? It was supposed to be a 'm' however due to the uncoordinated movement of my hand which was brought upon by the jerking of my hand whose cause as the perfectly aimed paper ball thrown by none other than Dylan Anderson my mortal enemy who also is the biggest jerk in the sands of time as Shakespeare would say. Believe me I should know coz for the past 4 literature classes all we've done is analyze Julius Caesar for what reason I haven't the slightest idea. Think about it. why name a play over a character who's dead after two acts.
Oh boy Dylan Anderson and Shakespeare-what a tragic way to start this story make that any story.
Scratch that!! Here's a better intro. Welcome!! You've entered the world of Tracy Winterman. Name: Tracy Winterman a.k.a. Trace to my best friend Ruth. (I know the name's totally unimaginative but put that on my parent's list of faults)
Birth date: 10th June 1988 (sweet sixteen but thanks to parents have to wait another year to get a car)
Best friend: food-chocolate
Shopping center-Cozmo
Human-Ruth Morrison
If given three wishes I'd like:
. See Dylan's picture in the newspaper under the obituary
section
. Convert all the trees to chocolate
. Get Josh Garnett (the hottest guy in the whole of
Madison's High School) to ask me out.
Parents: Mrs. and Mr Nathaniel Winterman (I know again imaginative but blame my grandparents for that one). Seems like a pretty normal family right? WRONG!! My parents are CIA agents. What does this mean? . While everyone else's parents work a 9-5 shift my parents can be gunning
down some nutcase who wants to take over the world or something like that
at 3:30 in the morning or be still in bed at 11:30 on Tuesday morning. . While other children go to work with their parents and write an essay on
it for the next day for 'Bring your child to work' day I spend the whole
day fabricating one as not only am I not supposed to divulge any of the
little info. I hear to anyone neither can I see their "secret location".
Although it's kinda fun, in the 2nd grade, my dad was a grocer then in
fifth, he was supposedly a fire fighter and once if I remember rightly a
circus manager.
Now here's something hilarious. My parents actually try to convince me that they were once enemies who couldn't stand to look at each other and when they were first partners (they still are) they'd bring thehouse down with their arguments.
Right like I'm supposed to believe that a moment goes by without them kissing or hugging or doing something that would disgust even newlyweds. And every time I mention the fact or the degree of my hatred towards Dylan they just smile and go all lovey dovey with each other, which sends me racing to my room.
Hey I just realized something aren't CIA agents supposed to move houses or something so that people can't track them or something like that then how come I've been stuck for my whole life in a stupid neighborhood where every single house is white with green shutters and the family next door is the Andersons (Not that I've anything against Mrs. and Mr Anderson they're wonderful it's just that they're related to the most annoying creature)
Suddenly I was jolted out of my thoughts by another paper ball this one aimed for my head. I growled deep in my throat and turned around to glare at my constant source of misery whose face was bedecked with his trademark smirk. I grabbed hold of my notebook (the only thing I could find) and was ready to put a dent in his ego inflated head when a 'Ms Winterman' startled me ad I turned round to look up to Ms Watergoat (you think her name's bad? Our chemistry professor's name is Mr Poofman and it doesn't help matters that after every reaction he says 'poof')
'Seeing how you can't wait till lunch to associate with Mr Anderson perhaps detention together after school will give you enough time together'. For once, I didn't know what to say and just gaped at her with my mouthed open. Dylan had my mirrored reaction.
Why was I cursed to be born in the same lifetime as this despicable, cockroach? This horrid rodent? Why? Why? Why?
Chapter 1: The despicable cockroach
My Summer Vacation
By Tracy Winterman
This summer vacation my ^^
See that indecipherable mark there? It was supposed to be a 'm' however due to the uncoordinated movement of my hand which was brought upon by the jerking of my hand whose cause as the perfectly aimed paper ball thrown by none other than Dylan Anderson my mortal enemy who also is the biggest jerk in the sands of time as Shakespeare would say. Believe me I should know coz for the past 4 literature classes all we've done is analyze Julius Caesar for what reason I haven't the slightest idea. Think about it. why name a play over a character who's dead after two acts.
Oh boy Dylan Anderson and Shakespeare-what a tragic way to start this story make that any story.
Scratch that!! Here's a better intro. Welcome!! You've entered the world of Tracy Winterman. Name: Tracy Winterman a.k.a. Trace to my best friend Ruth. (I know the name's totally unimaginative but put that on my parent's list of faults)
Birth date: 10th June 1988 (sweet sixteen but thanks to parents have to wait another year to get a car)
Best friend: food-chocolate
Shopping center-Cozmo
Human-Ruth Morrison
If given three wishes I'd like:
. See Dylan's picture in the newspaper under the obituary
section
. Convert all the trees to chocolate
. Get Josh Garnett (the hottest guy in the whole of
Madison's High School) to ask me out.
Parents: Mrs. and Mr Nathaniel Winterman (I know again imaginative but blame my grandparents for that one). Seems like a pretty normal family right? WRONG!! My parents are CIA agents. What does this mean? . While everyone else's parents work a 9-5 shift my parents can be gunning
down some nutcase who wants to take over the world or something like that
at 3:30 in the morning or be still in bed at 11:30 on Tuesday morning. . While other children go to work with their parents and write an essay on
it for the next day for 'Bring your child to work' day I spend the whole
day fabricating one as not only am I not supposed to divulge any of the
little info. I hear to anyone neither can I see their "secret location".
Although it's kinda fun, in the 2nd grade, my dad was a grocer then in
fifth, he was supposedly a fire fighter and once if I remember rightly a
circus manager.
Now here's something hilarious. My parents actually try to convince me that they were once enemies who couldn't stand to look at each other and when they were first partners (they still are) they'd bring thehouse down with their arguments.
Right like I'm supposed to believe that a moment goes by without them kissing or hugging or doing something that would disgust even newlyweds. And every time I mention the fact or the degree of my hatred towards Dylan they just smile and go all lovey dovey with each other, which sends me racing to my room.
Hey I just realized something aren't CIA agents supposed to move houses or something so that people can't track them or something like that then how come I've been stuck for my whole life in a stupid neighborhood where every single house is white with green shutters and the family next door is the Andersons (Not that I've anything against Mrs. and Mr Anderson they're wonderful it's just that they're related to the most annoying creature)
Suddenly I was jolted out of my thoughts by another paper ball this one aimed for my head. I growled deep in my throat and turned around to glare at my constant source of misery whose face was bedecked with his trademark smirk. I grabbed hold of my notebook (the only thing I could find) and was ready to put a dent in his ego inflated head when a 'Ms Winterman' startled me ad I turned round to look up to Ms Watergoat (you think her name's bad? Our chemistry professor's name is Mr Poofman and it doesn't help matters that after every reaction he says 'poof')
'Seeing how you can't wait till lunch to associate with Mr Anderson perhaps detention together after school will give you enough time together'. For once, I didn't know what to say and just gaped at her with my mouthed open. Dylan had my mirrored reaction.
Why was I cursed to be born in the same lifetime as this despicable, cockroach? This horrid rodent? Why? Why? Why?