It’s not the whole chapter, cuz i didnt wanna place too much for you guys to read 
Chapter One
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Stupid alarm clock.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I’m getting up. I’m getting up.
My hand, nearly from reflex, reached out and groped for the tiny, blue alarm clock. It was June 19, the fourth day of summer vacation.
As much as I wanted to wake up, I couldn’t. I was too tired.
I was up late, reading, and staring at the picture of my crush, Luke, in my yearbook.
What time is it? I thought. I glanced at the clock.
9:37, it read in small, red letters.
Oh. Ok.
Wait, AM? Crap!
I ran out of my room, and jumped over Skittles, my small Lab/Spaniel mix puppy. I ran into the bathroom, and brushed my teeth mad quick. I took the quickest shower ever, rubbing some expensive Dove body wash all over me. I dried my hair, and slipped on a pair of white capris and threw on a black shirt which read ALL AMERICAN GIRL across the front in huge silver letters—rhinestones included. I ran downstairs to find my mom putting the bags into the car, while my best supporter, Melody (or Mel), was waiting for me in the kitchen.
“Summer!” Mel said as she saw me.
“Hey!” I said.
“I’m guessing you woke up late again?” Mel questioned.
“Yeah. . .and I reckon I forgot to pack my bag!” I raced back upstairs to my room.
“Summer!” she yelled again. “Rush up!”
“Coming!” I yelled back. “Come up here!”
I packed my bag really quickly, still not believing that this was really happening.
Melody was my best supporter. And we both did everything collectively—sleep overs, movies, going to Wal-Mart at twelve P.M. to be the first to buy a new CD…yep.
So, when my parents questioned her to come to Misty Beach for the summer, of course she said yes. And so did her parents.
“Sum-mer!” I could hear Mel whining from downstairs.
“Just a minute, no, just a second!” I yelled down.
Ok, so here’s the deal: my parents own a really nice and huge beach house in Misty Beachville, which is nearly an hour away from here, 89 Cedar Street, my home sweet home. Mom broke the news to me that we were going to spend the whole summer, except for the last three to five weeks, there. She knew Melody is my best supporter, my sister, even—with two different mothers and fathers, of course—and since I have no siblings, my mom would not mind at all for her to come along. Well, duh, since she (My mom) was the one to question Mel in the first place.
“Kay, done!” I shouted cheerfully back down at her. She raced up into my room, picked up the bag, and ran back down with it. All without saying a word.
“Hey!” I said in protest. When I got down, she was standing there without anything. “Where’s my bag, Mel?” I questioned.
“I gave it to mom, she packed it.” Mel always called my mom ‘mom’ or ‘mommy’. I did the same with her mom too. See, we were sisters. Kinda.
“Oh, cool,” I said absently. “This is gonna be exciting,” I said keenly.
“Yeah, I wonder if there are gonna be, you know, cute boys!” Mel exclaimed.
“Is that all you reckon about?” I questioned her. I mean, not that I didn’t reckon about boys sometimes, with the occasional crush (or two), but I was not—really, I don’t reckon anyone can be as crazy for boys as Mel can. I mean, honestly, she is boy crazy. I mean it.
Once, in the seventh grade, she thought this boy on her bus—an eighth grade terrible boy, of course . . .leave it to Mel to like a guy like that.—was kind of cute. She went from thinking he was cute to madly obsessing over him. And the guy? Well, poor him. Mel literally stalked him throughout the school day, counting how many times she saw him to what color his boxers were. (She said he didn’t wear a belt, and I twisted from worried to frightened about her.)
The amusing thing was, he never knew she even existed or even had seen her before.
