by Kirsten Koss
There is this girl in my class her name is the Creep. Her hair looks like it hasn't been brushed in weeks and she always puts it over her ice cold face. The Creep sits on her own in the most shaded area of the class looking so lonely every single minute of the day.
This week I was having a party at my house I felt kind of sorry for the Creep so I invited her. My friends kept asking "Kim why did you invite the creep?" I never answered.
It was the day of the party, Gemma came, then Maria, then Ashley and finally the Creep. We were staying over night so everybody got there pj's on and we started to chat.
"So what's your real name?" Ashley said to the Creep who was dressed unusually nice with her hair brushed straight.
"What a nice name" I said amazed I was being nice to the creep.
"Why don't we tell stories... spooky ones."
So we started telling freaky stories. The Creep was telling the most freaky, most chilling stories. Soon after we fell asleep. But we didn't sleep all through the night. I woke at midnight to the sound of crying.
"Katherine what's wrong?" I said.
"My parents died here at 13 Victoria Street and you are living in my house, and you are going to my school..."