Stafara
written by The 9's
Jenna's Mom disappeared 3 years ago. Since then it has just been her and her dad. Everyday she goes to school, feeling hated more. Jenna doesn't have any friends because the other kids parents fear they or their kids might disappear. Jenna had to to live with that life for 4 years, until she got a note. Jenna gets kidnapped and taken to weird lab. When she was walking around the place she spotted something, rather strange. Jenna spotted a woman that looks exactly like her...could that woman be...Jenna's mom? (Please give feed back at my wall...I really want to know f its good or if I need to improve, and I will put out a chapter or 3 each week)
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
10
Reads
447
Chapter 2
“Okay class time for roll call...” Mr. Clamer called out.... “Kara?”
“Here”
“Sarah?”
“Here”
“Marc?”
“Here”
“Sofia?”
“Here”
“Diego?”
“Here”
“Jenna?” It was her turn, all eyes on her, she took a deep breath in and...
“Here” She managed to peep out. Her accent was kind of British. She was a shy 4th grader, 9 years old, tan skin, dark brown hair (always in a ponytail) and blue eyes. She had no friends......no one talked to her. Her and her Father live alone, and her Mother disappeared. No one knows where she went...she left her and her Father. At least that’s what her Father told her. Everyone at school knows her like the girl with the disappeared Mother, and the other kids Parents probably are telling them to stay away from her.... they think if they hang out with her, they will disappear too.
“Jenna.... JENNA!!” She looked at the front of the room where Mr. Clamer was staring at her with his arms folded and papers in his hands. Everyone was laughing and staring at her.
“Yes?” She looked down to her feet.
“Would like to get out your homework and hand it to me?” He taped his foot like a rabbit and an inpatient teacher. She reached in her backpack to get her math homework. She got up and quickly walked to the front and handed the paper to Mr. Clamer. “Thank you” She raced back to her seat and sat down. She tried to hide somewhere, ANYWHERE. She put on her hood and hid her face. But of course, the teacher -with the school's little policy- said “Jenna take off your hood, we are inside.” which of course again triggered another set of giggles around the class. School that day felt like a never-ending car ride. The bell rang, time to go home. She got her stuff and walked out to go to the bus stop.
“Here”
“Sarah?”
“Here”
“Marc?”
“Here”
“Sofia?”
“Here”
“Diego?”
“Here”
“Jenna?” It was her turn, all eyes on her, she took a deep breath in and...
“Here” She managed to peep out. Her accent was kind of British. She was a shy 4th grader, 9 years old, tan skin, dark brown hair (always in a ponytail) and blue eyes. She had no friends......no one talked to her. Her and her Father live alone, and her Mother disappeared. No one knows where she went...she left her and her Father. At least that’s what her Father told her. Everyone at school knows her like the girl with the disappeared Mother, and the other kids Parents probably are telling them to stay away from her.... they think if they hang out with her, they will disappear too.
“Jenna.... JENNA!!” She looked at the front of the room where Mr. Clamer was staring at her with his arms folded and papers in his hands. Everyone was laughing and staring at her.
“Yes?” She looked down to her feet.
“Would like to get out your homework and hand it to me?” He taped his foot like a rabbit and an inpatient teacher. She reached in her backpack to get her math homework. She got up and quickly walked to the front and handed the paper to Mr. Clamer. “Thank you” She raced back to her seat and sat down. She tried to hide somewhere, ANYWHERE. She put on her hood and hid her face. But of course, the teacher -with the school's little policy- said “Jenna take off your hood, we are inside.” which of course again triggered another set of giggles around the class. School that day felt like a never-ending car ride. The bell rang, time to go home. She got her stuff and walked out to go to the bus stop.
