Losing Grip

~This is a WIP book about my pending charrie Emma Thorne!~


'Who am I?'

The question comes to mind before any other thought.

'You're Emma,' I think.

'Who is that, though?' I wonder.

'I am Emma Thorne. I am sixteen years old. I live on Long Island, New York, at Camp-Half Blood. I am from Manhattan. My father is Poseidon, god of the seas. He left my mother and I when I was not even a year old. My mother got depression and anxiety. She killed herself when I was six. She left me a note, telling me to go to the Strawberry Patch she told stories about. It took two years. I made it to camp. I've been here ever since.'

Every morning I have to remind myself of this. I look around my cabin. Yes, it's good old Cabin 3. Same as always. I lay on top bunk of my bed, my head only a few feet from the ceiling. I must've slept late again, for none of my siblings are here. I sigh and sit up.

~Get ready for lots of short chapters!~

Chapter 2

"I don't understand," Alice says for the millionth time. She places her book on Da Vinci back in it's place on the shelf. We stand in the library. It's mid afternoon. The sun looks like it's about to set. I place the book on anger issues back on the shelf where I got it from.

"It's simple," I begin, scanning the books for something helpful. "How?" she asks. "I just have to go to a shrink once a week," I explain. "You're not mental Em," she mutters. "But I am Dream," I mutter, and I stare at her. Alice, though I don't know the full story, has been nicknamed Dream since she was a kid. I've called her that ever since I met her.

"And the shrink told you to check out, 'How to Deal with Mental Problems'?" Dream scoffs, grabbing the book out of my hand. She takes one look at it, then shakes her head. She hands back the book. I sigh.

"She told me that it would help if I read a self help book or something along those lines," I tell her, putting the book back. "You should write one, not read one," she murmurs. "Maybe," I say, glancing.

Suddenly, I see campers leaving the room. It must be dinner time.

"Come on," I mumbled, grabbing Dream, "Let's eat."