Welcome to Gaia! ::

Its good so far. Only, change the 8 to eight. I'm a little tired to notice and grammar or spelling mistakes though...sorry sweatdrop

thx! oh ya the 8 thing, I typed it in as "eight" but Word kept changing it for some reason. I thought I had it at eight but it must've changed again...Ugh!

lol dontch just love word "For the nth time word I know how to spell my NAME!!!" lol had that fight a few times

Chapter One:
I wake up at 7:55a.m. so I could wake my younger sister Myra up at eight o’clock. It is her eighth birthday, and she is very excited about it. I brush my teeth and go into her bedroom, checking the flower clock on the wall as I walk in. Eight a.m. sharp, perfect timing. I walk over to her bed, but she is not there. I pick up the blankets thinking she might be hiding, still no Myra. It’s not like her to be up before me. I hurriedly take a look around the room and run out into the hall. She wasn’t in the bathroom earlier, so I suppose she’s not there now. I run down the hall stopping to look in closets occasionally, then head for the stairs. I frantically run through the house and into the family room tripping over my dog in the process. I finally stop to breath in the dining room where my mother and father look worried. Mom has the phone up to her ear, and Dad is pacing back and forth mumbling something like, “Where could she have gone?”

I sit down to eat my breakfast while Dad explains that we will be going out to look for Myra soon. Mom is still on the phone describing what Myra looks like, “Eight years old today, blue eyes, golden hair, umm…about four feet maybe. Close to fifty pounds. She doesn’t talk, so if you find her, she won’t answer any questions.”

I quickly finish my cereal, and Dad tells me to go take a shower. I’m quick about it because every minute Myra could get farther away from us. I come back downstairs finding Mom has moved over to the couch, but she’s still on the phone. “Trenton and I are going out to look for her,” Dad tells her, “Don’t worry too much.”

Just as we are about to open the door, Myra walks in wearing a pink and yellow sundress, pigtails crooked, singing in the angelic voice of hers, “Do, a deer a female deer. Ra, a golden drop of sun.”

I hear Mom say, “Never mind, we found her,” and she hangs up the phone. We all just stare at Myra who is still singing her song. Suddenly she realizes we are watching her, and her song trails off. Dad walks over to give her a hug, but she doesn’t return it. She never does. Myra is, let’s just say, a little different. She doesn’t talk to anyone, but she sings like an angel. If you stop to listen to her song, she’ll stop singing. If you start singing the song with her, she just looks at you like you’re crazy. She never tries to be the center of attention. Not that she’s shy, she just think about other people first. Myra also doesn’t touch people. She allows them to give her a hug, pat her on the back, etc., but she never returns any of those. It’s almost as if she has no care in the world. Myra definitely has a way of expressing herself, and if you’re not careful you won’t catch on. Usually the song she sings expresses how she feels, but you have to act like you’re not listening or she’ll stop singing.

Doctors suggested she has Autism, but then took that back because she is social. She’ll laugh at you’re jokes and cry with you when you’re sad. She smiles when something makes you happy, but never if something makes her happy. She never screams because she’s scared, never stomps when she’s mad. She just keeps it all to herself, and she’s always energetic. Doctors also suggested sending her to a special school, but Mom said there was no need for that. Mom’s little angel is “special” in a different way.

After Mom and Dad release their hug and back off, I lift my arms in the air and say, “Well, happy birthday!”

“Oh, yes,” Mom says, “Almost forgot. We got you ice-cream cake.” Ice-cream cake is Myra’s favorite, and instantly her eyes light up. She skips over to the refrigerator and looks and the freezer door as if saying, ‘I want some now.’

“Not yet, little miss,” Dad says. “We have to wait for Aunt Etta and Uncle Bruce to get her. And I don’t think you’ve even had breakfast yet.”

Myra looks down at the ground and wiggles her toes. She turns on her heel and heads for the stairs singing, “Birthday” by the Beatles. It is amazing for an eight year old to actually know that song. Myra is like a walking jukebox.

I decide to follow and head to my room for some nicer clothes. I her Myra come out of her room singing, “Splish splash, taking a bath…” and figure she’s going to take a bath. I sit on my bed and think long and hard of where she could’ve gone this morning. I didn’t hear her wake up, and if she’s awake before me she usually wakes me up by singing. Our house is pretty isolated. We have neighbors, but they are farther away because we all own acres of land. There are some woods behind our house, she could’ve gone there. I figure that’s where she went, maybe to make an early birthday wish, and head back downstairs.

Mom says she’s going into town to get food for the birthday dinner and I decide to go with. Aunt Etta and Uncle Bruce won’t be here for another three hours, so why not? I have to sit in the backseat because Mom still thinks the front seat is unsafe for a 12-year-old boy. I don’t see why, but I’m not going to argue.
We get to the store and I ask Mom if I can go to the toy section. She thinks about it and finally says yes and that she’ll be in the food section. I “fast-walk” over to the toys because it’s rude to run in a store. I’m not getting a toy for me; I’m getting one for Myra, even though she doesn’t touch half her toys. I look around and come across a doll that is wearing the same sundress Myra was wearing but in purple and blue. It’s kind of hidden, so I have to reach in to grab it. I pull it out and figure it will have to do. As I walk to the food section, someone bumps into me and I drop the doll. I pick it up to hear it singing “You are My Sunshine.” That makes the doll perfect because that used to be the only song Myra sang.

We check out and Mom pays for the doll. “You might want to pay me back or do some housework for that.” She says. I just nod in agreement.

I am very careful when we get home so that Myra doesn’t see the doll. I run upstairs and grab the red flower bag that I picked out last week. I put the doll in and add some orange tissue paper. Colorful is the best way to describe this gift. I hide it in my closet and head back downstairs not sure what to do for the next hour and a half.
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I accidentally fall asleep on the couch and wake up to the sound of Aunt Etta and Mom talking. Thomas, my 10 year old cousin, is leaning over me. I don’t know how long he has been there, but as I sit up he says, “Finally! You’re awake.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say wiping my eyes, “How long was I asleep?”

“Umm…I don’t know. I just got here about a half hour ago.” Thomas replies. I don’t necessarily like hanging out with him, but it’s expected of me to at least be nice.

“Oh, ok. Where’s Myra and Annie?” Annie is Thomas’s five year old sister. We can tell she really annoys Myra, but since Myra doesn’t talk she’s pretty much stuck with the girl.

“I think they’re in her room.” Thomas replies. “Want to go up to your room?”

“I guess.” I say starting to walk towards the stairs with Thomas following me. I stop in front of Myra’s room to see toys thrown all over the floor, and Annie is digging out more. Myra is just sitting in the corner of her bed, curled up in a ball, hands over her ears, singing to herself.

“Um, Annie, how about picking up some of these toys,” Thomas says in a light voice.

“No!” Annie replies throwing a stuffed bear at us. “Go away! We’re having fun, right Myra?” Myra doesn’t shake her head or anything, just sits there staring at the little girl.

I walk over to Myra and whisper in her ear, “Just keep her away from the breakable stuff. You can come in my room if you want.” Myra jumps up, grabbed her four collectible rabbits, and runs to my room. “Come on,” I say leading Thomas out of the room. We walk into my room and find Myra lying on my bed.

“Hey, do you guys want to ride bikes? I have an extra one; you could ride it, Thomas.” I suggest because right now I just want to be outside.

“Yeah, that sounds fun.” Thomas replies, “You coming Myra?”

Myra gets up and walks two steps behind us. As we walk down the hallway, I hear her close my bedroom door. I’m pretty sure Annie knows how to open doors, but if that makes Myra feel better, I don’t care. We get downstairs and I tell Mom we are going out to ride bikes.

“All right,” she says, “Just don’t be too long, dinner will be ready soon.” She pauses to look at us for a minute, then asks, “Where’s Annie.”

“Up in Myra’s room,” I say and immediately Aunt Etta stands up and jogs upstairs. She must know Annie is destroying the room.

Once we get to the garage I show Thomas the bike he can ride. Myra jumps on her purple bike and starts pedaling away. “Wait, Myra, we aren’t ready.” I jump on my bike and go after her with Thomas trailing behind.

“Don’t we need helmets?” He asks.

“No,” I reply, “Just hurry up.”

We start pedaling after her as fast as we can. I can hear her singing, but I’m not sure what song. “Myra, stop!” I yell because we are three blocks away from our house. Mom usually never lets us go farther than one block.

Myra turns to look at me then stops her bike. She turns back around and keeps riding. I follow with Thomas next to me. We turn the corner and I have no clue where Myra is leading us. Before I know it, we are riding our bikes up our driveway. Thomas and I are panting as we put the bikes back, and Myra walks inside like nothing happened.

Once we get inside Aunt Etta tells us to wash up for dinner. Thomas grabs Annie’s hand and leads her to the bathroom with us. I grab a stool for her and as soon as Thomas lets go of her hand she runs off. “Oh, well,” I say, “She really has no need to wash her hands anyway. She didn’t go bike riding with us.”

“True.” Thomas replies rinsing the rest of the soap off his hands. “Let’s go, I’m starving.” I follow him back to the dining room where Annie and Myra are already eating.

“Smells good, let’s dig in!” I say to Thomas who laughs as I grab the bowl of mashed potatoes and take a big bite.

“Trenton Greene!” Mom yells, “Get a plate please.”

“Fine,” I reply grabbing a plate and loading it with food. I sit down between Uncle Bruce and Myra and start to eat hoping the day will start to slow down.

Reserved

Thanks! I'm really happy on how far I've actually gotten this time. I usually don't have time to write, so when I do I try to get as much done as possible.

lol I get that all the time, but I guess that's what happeneds when you have a weird name, and almost all of the characters I create have weird names too lol.