Thanks, Spy Guy

Chapter 1

It all started that one Wedenesday afternoon. How was I supposed to know? He never told me that the necklace he gave me held anything. That last day that I ever saw him. Well, I thought it was the last day, anyway. I didn't even know it was a locket. But as soon as the clasp was closed at my neck, I was tangled up in a lifetime (our lifetime, which would be seventeen years) worth of lies and secrets.

Ryan was pretty much my only friend, if you would even go as far as to call him that. He was actually more like a co worker, now that I think about it. But for me, that's as close as I ever got to a friend. In high school at least.

During middle school, everything was great. I was happy, popular, and was voted in the yearbook as prettiest girl, best dressed, most likely to scucceed, the whole nine yards.

Then, in the last week of school, it happened. I met this really nice boy who was in my grade. Eight grade. So, of course, I took him home to meet my family for dinner, like any girl at my school would do.

Everything was going great, until dinner was over. We (him, my mother, father and I) all stood up, because he said he needed to go soon. He said he needed to go to the bathroom, and while he was gone, my mom and dad started saying how much they liked him, and how happy they were for me, even though we haden't known each other that long.

When the boy came back, he looked different. In one hand, he was holding all my mother's jewlery. In the other hand, was a loaded gun. But it wasn't just that. He looked angry, like I was the mst evil person in the world or something. It still terrifies me to this day.

First, he shot my father. A second later, my mother. Then, he turned to me, looked my in the eye, and said, "I've always hated you. Your perfect life, perfect friends, everything." And shot me. He pulled a match out of his pocket, and lit my house on fire. Then, he looked around, realized what he had done, and shot himself.

I just barley had enough energy to crawl over to the house phone through the smoke and dial 9-11 before I passed out.

***

I woke up in the hospitial. Alone. My friends, who were oh-so amazing in my eyes, haden't bothered to come see me. The docters and nurses had left me alone for a while.

Turns out, I had been in a coma for a few days.I was lucky, the docters said. He missed my heart by an inch.But I didn't think I was lucky. I had no real family left.

The two people my mom and dad had left me to, my aunt and uncle, were driving to the state, since they lived in California while I lived in Texas at the time. They were driving there, because, as I painfully found out later, even though they were rich, they were very frugal.

***

My aunt and uncle were never very close to my mom and dad. I only saw them once before the accident, when I was nine. I knew as soon as I met them that I wouldn't like them.

My aunt, Olivia, was the type of woman who could say something totally horrible to you, and make you feel horrible about yourself without batting an eye. I don't think she knew that she made everyone around her miserable, but she probably wouldn't care if she did. She had bright red hair that was obviously the brainchild of two completly different drugstore dyes.

My uncle, on the other hand, was very different. He was always less welcoming and more distant that my aunt was, but for that, I liked him. He seemed to know that I knew I didn't blong in the family. That I had my own family. He was quiet, but when he did speak, it was always something that completly changed any given situation. He was tall and thin, with graying hair. He was my mom's twin, but his hair started graying early.

***

As I first groggily started waking up, I immeadiatley realized that I was in a hospitial. I've read in a ton of books where at first, the main character has no idea where they are, because they pretty much forgot everything. I wish that had happened to me. I remembered every single painful detail of that horrible night, even if I had been in a coma for a few days.