Chapter One
A breeze came though Brittney's window to wake her up in the early part of the spring of ninety-three in Kentucky. She shut the window and looked around. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The sleeping bag that she had woken up in lay in a corner. There were boxes all over the floor, and some were opened.
Stupid military, she thought. Four of my seventeen years wasted following around Dear Old Dad from base to base.
Brittney stepped out into the hallway and walked around to find her brother, Chris, eating some Pop Tarts in the kitchen. Brit grabbed a packet for herself and sat down beside him.
"So this is home for a while, huh?" she said, making note of every little detail of the room that served as a kitchen and a living room.
"Yeah, it looks that way," Chris answered, still staring out the same window he had been for five minutes.
"Whatcha looking at? Can you see inside a girl's window or something?" Brittney waved her hand in front of his face.
"No, I'm just thinkin'."
"Don't hurt yourself, now, Chrissy!"
"Shut up, Brat. I think all the time."
Brittney got up and walked toward her room. As she walked, she said, "With ten percent of the ten percent you're suppoed to use."
"You don't know when to stop, do you?" her brother called after her.
"Nah."
What a goof she thought, and laughed to herself. It's definately not his brains that make him popular. It must be his drum solo.
Although she fails to admit it, Brittney has always been jealous of her brother's popularity. He had a following everywhere. The only following Brit got was the kind that made up roumors that scared her for life. Her diary was full of tales of verbal abuse and mental torture. In one entry was the story of Thomas Johnson:
I cannot put in words my anger at Thomas Johnson. He was nice, caring, and funny when we got here, but now he's just another to add to the list of scum. He asked me to the movies, and I went. We had a great time, and I was honestly expecting him to ask me out again. At school the next day, Mr. Great had circulated a roumor about me. Now all of Adams High thinks that freshman Brittney Hammond is "easy to get." He reminds me of Jessie and Kristen who stabbed me in the back. I'm beginning to wonder if I have the words "stab me" and a target tatooed on my back or something. Well, there's one thing that I know is true, I don't need friends. If all they're gonna do is use me then I don't need them.
And Brittney has stuck by every last word of it. So much so that she's homeschooled. She even plans to go to college over the Internet. No one could ever change her mind...or could they?
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