If you're looking for my Writer's Voice entry you can find it here.
In this excerpt twelve-year-old Olivia and her best friend Alison have made plans to runaway together. Well, at least Olivia has. It's written in diary entries, and Milo's Olivia's cat by the way.
So now I’m on the swing set, but the seats are for five year olds, and I keep getting stuck. If anyone finds this journal they need to know that there are one million and one houses on this street. A new one pops up every day but it’s still quiet. Like the vacuum cleaner my mother used this morning sucked up everyone. But I bet she’d be happy about that because she hates our neighbors.
And just in case you get lost, but you shouldn’t, my house is the one with the gnomes in front. Their heads are missing, but Milo and I like them better that way. I keep this journal underneath the doormat, out back. My handwritings okay so this should be easy to read.
Alison, my bike, and I will be long gone by then. She agreed to come with me this time. We pinkie promised. And everyone knows that when you break a pinkie promise bad things happen. Like last year when Mrs. Brinkley’s son, from across the street, pinkie promised me I could ride his bike, and he didn’t. I shoved him hard, and he fell onto his elbows.
They moved him far away, the pinkie promise gods, just like everyone else.
My dad’s a robot. That’s what I think. He doesn’t function properly unless my mother’s around. We almost made it out the garage door before he came in. We would have made it even further if my mother hadn’t come in, followed by Milo. And with Milo there I knew I couldn’t leave without an explanation.