Chapter one

A Chapter by JulieNorell

Now its a book! Lol I love this start! I wrote it down before I had any idea of what I was writing ABOUT!

Maco crossed her fingers and waited as the wheel for the raffle cage turned over and over again. This was her last chance. She’d spent all of her money on that ticket…Her last few dollars that she’d scraped out of the bottom of the coin jar. If she didn’t win, she’d have to go back to the streets. She didn’t want that. The streets were horrible, full of angry, abusive men and pain. But if she had to she would, only for Justin. No one else could drive her enough to go back. Only the big blue eyes of her baby brother. Justin was sickly, with black hair and fair skin. He looked just like her. He was her ray of light in a dark world, the only thing that ever made her smile. Maco peered over the heads of the sea of people. Being 6’ tall it was easy for her to see that the wheel was slowing down. The wheel got slower and slower very slowly…Agonizingly so. She looked at her ticket; the number was in big red block numbers and had been stamped on to a little yellow ticket. "25" it said. Macos’ stomach roiled. She wasn’t sure if it was out of hunger or a mixture of excitement and pure agonizing fear. Of course, she would never admit to fear. Fear meant she was weak, and weakness meant that she couldn’t take care of Justin. She wouldn’t even admit it to herself. She was scared, scared that the last 3 dollars that she and her brother had would go to waist on a gamble, a gamble for 2,000 dollars. If she won she’d have enough money to take care of Justin for months…but if she lost…if she lost she would walk back to the park where her brother hid in the bushes…empty handed. He would be scared, and she would comfort him. But she would always feel like it was her fault. Her fault her parents dropped them in the street of this god-forsaken town. Her fault that her little brother had to sleep on the hard ground, without a blanket, without a pillow…without the love of a mother or father. Her fault that he had to be witness to this hard, unsympathetic world. After all…she was the freak. She was the one who burned everything she touched. Light fire to the curtains, her favorite dresses. She was the girl of flame...