45 Days to Save the Bad Boy

Prologue

Hello. My name is Georgia. No, not Georgia Rose. My dad isn't a dentist. Lately, I've been asked that a lot, so I thought I should just let you know. Not that I don't like One Direction, but did they have to use my name in their song? Oh this is not working. I need to restart.

Hi! I'm Georgia Talbot, but everyone calls me Georgie. I guess I don't really need to introduce myself since the name is on the cover, but if your name was tattooed on me, I think I'd at least deserve an introduction. So, this is it. My first diary entrance. My mom is going to kill me, I have nothing to write. You see, Aunt Geralda (the kind that brings fruitcake and pinches your cheeks) bought this really expensive diary (you) with my name on the cover (your sparkly tattoo) and now I have to use it before Aunt Geralda's next visit or I'll be forever grounded. I like my phone, and TV privileges. And so I must write!

I stopped writing and sighed. The plan was to write something in this book, at least one thing per day so that I could fill it up as soon as possible and have my mom throw it in the attic to "keep forever as a memory," meaning I'd never have to see it again. But my life is nothing extraordinary. What am I supposed to write about? My social life?

Here's the thing diary. (I think I'm going to call you George.) The thing, George, is that I have no social life. I am an anti-social nerd. A social pariah if you will. You might say people avoid me like the plague, if you want to be brutally honest. I'm the sad little nerd that gets picked on by the popular cheerleaders. I do at least five of the same homework assignment before I actually get to mine. Sadly, I'm that nerd. I probably could stand up for myself, but what's the point?

That's my biggest life question. What's the point? Would I benefit from standing up for myself? Maybe I'd feel emotionally fulfilled or something, but it wouldn't give my life a bigger purpose and I'd just get bullied even more than I do now. At least now I'm able to keep my lunch money.

Now George, you can't tell anyone this, but I have a huge secret. This thing happened today, right after school. A guy came up to me. No, not to ask me out, which wasn't ever a possibility anyway. Nah, he was kind of an old guy, probably a little older than my dad (if I knew who my dad was). I know what you're thinking, but he didn't come up to me for creepy purposes. Well, he wasn't a stalker, murderer or rapist anyway. I asked, just to be on the safe side. This guy, this man, he asked me for a favor. In fact, the conversation went a little like this...

I zoned out for a moment, just thinking about the conversation, going over every detail in my mind as I wrote it out. It was a very strange request. Not something you hear every day.

~~

"Psst." I stood outside the school building, waiting for cheerleading practice to start so I knew it was safe to walk home. "Psst." Curiously, I looked around, thinking I heard a sound.

"You there, girl!" Was someone talking? "Hello! I'm talking to you!" Me? "Yes you?" Are you a mind reader? "You're talking out loud you idiot."

"That's not very nice," I heard my voice say. Huh, I really was thinking aloud.

"I need your help," the person said. As I spun in crazy circles, looking for where this person was, I noticed a tall shape stepping out of a car. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Are you a stalker, murderer or rapist?" I asked shakily. The guy laughed.

"No. Can you help me?" he asked again, impatiently.

"I think so."

"I need you to help my son." The man looked desperate, and so I took pity on him.

"I guess I can, as long as he's not a stalker, or murderer or rapist," I said kindly, but sternly. The man's face softened slightly, but he still looked desperate.

"So you'll help?" I nodded. It couldn't hurt to at least try to help his son, whoever he was.

"My son's name is Breton Joel. Find him and save him! He only has forty-five days. Please, help him." With that, the man climbed in his car and drove away, leaving me staring at an empty parking spot. So... how do I find Breton Joel?

~~

And that George, is my secret. I have forty-five days to find and save this boy. I think I'll record my attempts in you George, my new diary. I wonder if Breton goes to my school. Maybe I've seen him before. But if he knows who I am, will that make things easier, or harder? My status has driven away many people. What if he's a little boy! Why did I ever say yes to this?

I knew why I had said yes. First, I'm a sucker for sob stories. Second, I thought maybe this would spice up my boring, homework-filled life. Why Georgie, why? Couldn't you be happy with your pitiful existence as it is?

I fell asleep thinking about ways to save Breton.

I woke up screaming.

"Georgie! What's wrong?" My mother burst into my room in only a bathrobe, making me scream louder and bury my head in the closest pillow. "What's wrong?" my mom yelled over the noise of my screams.

"Put some clothes on!" I yelled back, traumatized.

"I'm wearing clothes!" she protested.

"That's a bathrobe," I replied, still yelling. My mom sighed in exasperation.

"Georgia, I am wearing my pajamas under the bathrobe," she told me.

Cautiously, I peeked my head out from under the pillow. She was in fact wearing pajamas. "Sorry about that." I grinned sheepishly.

"For goodness sakes," I heard her mutter as she walked out of my room. I reclined back onto my bed, staring up at my ceiling.

BAM! The door flung open. I screamed, then realized it was only my mother, again.

"What do you need Mom?" questioned me, her daughter.

"Why were you screaming earlier?" she asked, out of breath from running down the hall from her room for the second time that night.

"Oh yeah! That!" I came up with that intelligent reply, thank you very much.

"Yes. That." My mom did not find it intelligent.

"Um, the thing is, I'm not sure," I told her. I avoided her eyes, because I knew my very unclear answer would make her mad.

It made her mad alright. "You woke me up at THREE IN THE MORNING SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHY?"

"That's right," I whispered. After several minutes of deep breaths, my mom finally spoke again.

"Goodnight Georgie."

"Night Mom. Love you."

"Love you too."

The bedroom door closed softly and the hall light flickered off. Soon I could tell my mom was asleep. Slowly, I crept over to my window and looked out at the tree right in front of my window. I really had a lovely view. So I stared at a tree until I felt tired again.

Eventually, I walked back to my bed and nearly fell asleep too. Until I realized it was six o'clock and my alarm would go off in half an hour. Sighing, I gave up on sleep and thought about why I woke up.

I know I have to save Breton, but what am I saving him from?