I spy a young man in the corner. He looks Spanish, and is very handsome. He's maybe in college or a senior in high school. I point to him."Who's that?" The man laughs heartily."I'm Mike. Mike Andreas. It's a pleasure to meet you." "Mike here," Josh grins, putting an arm around Mikes shoulder."Is my big brother. He's a frosh in Aragon Community College. Majoring in Advertising and Sales." I have no idea why I never knew this. "Oh," I reply."Nice to meet you, Mike. I'm Abby Walker, sophomore at Washington High." "I know, Josh's told me about you. He loves you!" Mike chortles. Well. Isn't he a gentleman? Chockfull of charisma, manners, and graciousness. I smiled at him and Josh. Maybe Josh wasn't as gentleman-ly as his older brother, but he still had his good qualities; funny, caring, brave, cute. Pretty popular, too. Me? Just a boring, drab looking, dorky nobody with barely any friends. Right now, my BFF was a redheaded punk-goth. Then again, I had some of the popular girls on my side: Miranda, Sophie. And Winston was with Hendrix so I guess we were sorta buds. "Abby?" a meek voice calls out from a dark corner, breaking my from my thoughts. I twirl around and spy a redheaded 14 year old. Azalea. She's wearing a purple sweatshirt with a smiley face and a matching Children's Place too-small elastic skirt and scuffed brown canvas flats. "Azalea," I reply with a cracked voice. She runs to me and hugs me and starts to cry into my shoulder. Shocked, I simply pat her on the back awkwardly. "It's okay, Azalea. It's okay," I murmur, my voice muffled by her thick hair in my face. Her fragile body shudders as she sobs. Finally, I gently pry her off me and stand up."Uh. Why are you crying?" "Ja-jason," she sniffles, wiping her eyes with her scruffy sleeve. She laughs a bit."Sorry for crying on you. It's just that Jason... I loved him. And he broke up with me! Now he's with Claire! I don't know why she even likes him. She's the most popular girl in this school, with an amazing body and she's just gorgeous. And he's kind of a wimpy nerd. Yet now they're dating as happy as can be. I found out when he told me, when I asked him if it was another girl. But I want him back so bad! I thought we were gonna get married at some point!" I nod, fighting the urge to spill the beans about everything. She's so naïve about this, so oblivious! It's so sad. Wait why is she even here??? "Jason tried to kill her when she threatened to tell everyone they were going out to ruin Claire's rep. He charged at her with a taser," Josh explained, reading my mind.
We're all curled up together for warmth in the musty,dark shelter. The only light comes from a single droopy lightbulb in the center of the space. There is cans of food, dried foods hanging from the ceiling and coolers of water all over. There is nothing but a packed dirt floor, concrete walls, and some ratty, ripped mattresses. We rip the thin cotton fitted sheets on the beds and use them as blankets on top. Me and Josh sleep together, me against the wall for warmth and his shirt off to give me his body warmth and I use the shirt and his fleece jacket as blankets. I use him as a pillow. Azalea has the other bed, by herself. She has curled up against the wall as well as wraps herself snugly in the sheet and I lend her my turtleneck to keep warm. She has snug wool thigh socks, which she wears as gloves. Mike is wearing a warm ski jacket, snowpants, and skiboots. I guess he was prepared or something for the cold. He is sleeping on the ground next to the door. He uses his long underwear as a makeshift blanket. Throughout the chilly night, I snuggle Josh to stay warmer. I feel like I'm in the north pole. At 3 AM, someone knocks on the door, waking us up. "Its Winston and Miranda and Sophie and Hendrix," Hendrix calls. We let them in, where Winston and Hendrix sleep on the floor. Sophie and Miranda also sleep on the floor next to eachother. I don't know how they found us, but it was probably Josh or someone. They must've spent all night figtig Claire and Jason, gee. Aragon is a typical lowly town in Washington. Bumbling, boring, still, place with shiny sidewalks, untamed fall leaves artfully collecting on groomed lawns, usually large Victorians painted in soft colors like grey and blue and yellow. In some neighborhoods like mine, there's rather plain white or mint green condos with no outerior designs to avoid conflict between the dwellers of the apartment. No one ever sleeps on the floor! We Aragonians are far too sophisticated for that. I'm sure if all 4063 people that make up our population could see me now, they would barf all over their high-and-mighty Marc Jacobs shoes and run shrieking. Unless your me.
The morning arrives when I hear my watch beeping. I wipe sleep from my eyes and peer at the small screen: it's 7:00 AM. Not that I would know it was morning anyway. We are underground. The only reason I'm not accidentally nocturnal at home is because of the sunslight peeking through my pale blue Jalousè blinds. I sit up and somehow the room just feels warmer; I guess the hot air got trapped in here. Though there actually is a small hole in the door that let's oxygen flow in and out. But it doesn't provide any light. I sit up and adjust my cloths on. It looks like everyone else is still sleeping. Miranda, Mike, Sophie, Hendrix, and Winston have rolled over on the dirt floor. I quietly stand up and Josh stirs. "Morning, Josh," I yawn. He sits up and stretches."Hey, Abbe's." I open a tin of peaches and we eat it together. Finally, everyone else awakens and we bumble around the bomb shelter aimlessly, lamely making small talk and tapping our feet on the floor. Azalea is sucking on the tip of her sleeve and fiddling with her old grey Nokia. When no one is looking, I push the door open and slip into the dark tunnel. I slowly creak it closed and pad along the moist soil ground, sticking my arms out and groping along through the passage. When I crash into a crumbly dirt wall., I look up and see a vertical passage that leads up to an iron hatch that's loosely bolted shut. I notice a rusty, cracked wooden ladder going up the side of the wall to the hatch and I climb. At the top, the hatch appears rather weighty, and my suspicions are confirmed when I press the heel of my palm against the grainy surface and push away the hooked bolt lock. Somehow I manage to get it open a crack and a mound of some chunky dirt falls down. Then more and more and more. Its like an avalanche of soil. I almost lose my footing on the rickety ladder and my knuckles turn white as I fiercely grip the bolt and shut the hatch breathlessly.
lol well I sorta already finished the story I'm just copying and pasting but u be in the sequel what's ur name