I started this story last year, and it seems like a lot of people liked it. How do I get it published?

When I'm done, I mean. Here is the story if your interested:





I was 13 when I wrote this:





Chapter 1: Nicholas Name (naah may)





"Ms. Shepard, I don't understand this." Shelby had her head ****** to the side, waiting for our seventh grade math teacher to turn away from her boiling hot cup of coffee. Ms. Shepard finally turned around with that harsh scowl on her orange over-tanned face.


"What is it THIS time?! Can't you see I'm busy?!" Shelby's small body quivered at every word. She almost looked like she was going to break under the pressure. After glaring at her for a few more seconds, Ms. Shepard rose out of her seat.


A fly buzzed over her Ziplock baggy of crackers. She swung at the fly, and in her rage, knocked over her mug of coffee. It went down, almost as if it was in slow motion, then splattered a brown mixture over her desk, the classroom tiles, and the carpet.


"Man!" I thought silently to myself. This would just make everything harder on me. Ms. Shepard's beady eyes pierced an imaginary hole in Shelby's head. As her eyebrows continued to furrow deeper than anyone thought possible, my class shuddered. Shelby hid her head in her hands, bracing for an attack.


"This is all YOUR fault!" Ms. Shepard inched towards Shelby. I was sitting directly behind Shelby, so from my angle, it almost looked like Ms. Shepard was glaring at me. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. Ms. Shepard stuck her finger in Shelby's pale, frightened face.


"While the rest of the class goes to lunch, I want YOU to stay behind and clean this place up!" Saliva flew out of her mouth as she screamed, showering all over Shelby and I. I shielded myself with my raincoat.


"Sheesh, Ms. Shepard," I paused in mid-sentence to make sure that the class was focusing on me. They all covered their mouths with their hands in anticipation. Then I continued, "I didn't know that rain was in the forecast today!"


A few snickers were heard around the classroom. Ms. Shepard turned even more orange, but recovered quickly. Suddenly, a crooked grin broke out on her face.


"It wasn't NICHOLAS," she knew that I hated to be called by my full first name. She continued, “so I guessed you wouldn't mind it if I took..." She reached her old wrinkled hand out and tugged at my jacket. When she realized that she couldn't get it off that easily, she gave me a look.


I returned it with a smirk, and said, "Oh, did you want this?" and slid it off. She snatched it up. The class snickered a little louder. Ms. Shepard snapped, “What’s so funny?!" and they averted their eyes.


She turned to me, “You have a lunch detention as well, Mr. Nicholas NAAAH MAAAY." She dragged out my last name, mocking me. "Yes, you get to prepare the PERFECT cup of coffee for your FAVORITE teacher."


"Sure, I'll make you some coffee." I said. "Besides, those poor teeth of yours need a break from grinding up all those coffee beans."


Ms. Shepard's eyes turned red with rage. It looked like they were bleeding. My class tried hard to suppress their laughter. "She looks like she's got Pinkeye..." I muttered under my breath. Those nearby me busted out laughing. "Nickname's done it again!" the guy behind me whisper-shouted.


See, my name is Nick Name, pronounced 'nah-MAY’ . But since it looks like the word nickname to most people, that's what everyone calls me. When people noticed my name for the first time, I was teased a lot. But after awhile, I embraced it and begin giving other people and things nicknames.


Ms. Shepard slammed her palms onto Shelby’s desk and bellowed, ”Nicholas! We will discuss your punishment in private! For now, I want you all out of here! Everyone EXCEPT for these two brats!”


The class raced out in a panic, and ran to the cafeteria. On her way out, I heard one girl whisper to another frantically,”…crazy lady will kill them! She’ll probably eat them for lunch!” The other girl whispered back, “Let’s get outta here! There’s no telling what that witch will do!” The first girl whispered again, “Maybe she’ll feed them poisoned apples…’


Finally they ducked out the door. When the last person left the room, I took a deep breath. I had a plan that I HAD to pull off during this detention. It determined whether Ms. Shepard would ever teach or live, ever again. And it involved something very similar to a poisoned apple.




































































Chapter 2: 30 Minutes of Hell





I’ve gotta admit, lunch detention was nerve wracking, but I had promised myself that I would pull it off today. The plan, I mean. But before I tell you what happened, let me say that Ms. Shepard is the most evil person…EVER. And everyone knows that I am the student that she hates the most. She was my fifth AND sixth grade teacher. When my parents found out about her ‘stalking’ me, they wanted me out of her class.


“It’s not right for teacher’s to play favorites, “ my mom had said. My dad was a bite more cautious. “Crazy people live here in New York. We need you outta that class!” He didn’t like how she followed me all the way into middle school.


Anyways, everyone says she’s going to kill me on day. One of my friends joked that she was like a tiger hunting. In fifth grade, she was crouched down, waiting for the opportunity. Then, in sixth grade, she was in the middle of making her leap. At the beginning of seventh, she was about to land in for the kill. And that’s exactly what she did. I am POSITIVE that Ms. Shepard was responsible for the death of my mom. But there is no physical evidence.


It had been a week after the mysterious murder when I came up with a plan. I wanted that lady dead. Every day since the murder, when I walked into her class, she’d give me some sort of clue as to the fact that she had killed my mother. The day before my mom was murdered, she made me stay after class.


“Tell your mother I said good-bye,” she had said. My mom often traveled because of her job, so what Ms. Shepard said had had a double-meaning. I tried to talk to the police about this, but they said that I was going through a common stage of the grieving, and sent me to see a psychologist. Now on to my story.


After the rest of the class had left for lunch, Ms. Shepard gave Shelby and I the evil eye. Shelby shook with fear, but I… actually, I can’t remember WHAT I was doing. I was lost in thought.


Anyhow, Ms. Shepard finally broke the silence and turned to Shelby. You can probably tell by now that Shelby is a small, timid little girl who doesn’t cause trouble. But Ms. Shepard spoke to her like she was some kind of escaped convict. She kept saying, “OR ELSE!” at the end of all of her sentences-even if it didn’t make sense. She knew she was freaking Shelby out, and was enjoying every minute of it.


“YOU, Shelby, can get some soap and paper towels and clean up that coffee spill! OR ELSE!” Then the hag turned to me. “And YOU, Nicholas,” She paused. She knew that I hated people to call me by my full name, “YOU have the privilege of making your DARLING teacher a fresh cup of coffee!” My hands unconsciously flew to my jeans pocket. “And what a privilege it is, Ms. Shepard.” I said as I passed my fingers against the bottle in my pocket. Ms. Shepard showed me to her coffee pot in the other room which she had named Henry.


“Henry, this is Nicholas. Nicholas, Henry.” She attempted to smile, but it came out as a scowl instead. Ms. Shepard began explaining how to use ‘Henry’ while I tried my hardest not to laugh. She seemed to be serious. As she was nearing the end of her explanation, a crash was heard.


“Oops!” we heard Shelby exclaim from the classroom. Ms. Shepard, fearing the worst, yelled over her shoulder for me to figure out the rest and raced to Shelby’s side. She’s pretty fit for an old lady. “What great timing,” I thought as I slipped the contents of the bottle into the coffee pot. But the time the coffee was finished, Shelby had been sent out of the room in tears.


“I can’t take it anymore! Get out! Get OUT!” Ms. Shepard was yelling after Shelby. I hurried to bring the coffee to Ms. Shepard. “It’s finished!” I chirped. But I guess I seemed too chipper, because Ms. Shepard offered me a drink from the mug first. She had suspicions that I had done something rude to her drink. “Come on, I’m sure that you’d like it if you made it yourself!” She had a smug smile on her face.


I would have to take a sip of the concoction or she’d NEVER drink it! So I got another much and took a bit. “A little toilet cleaner never hurt anyone…” I thought to myself as I drank the coffee. I had to load it with sugar and make it very strong to block out the bleach-y smell of Pine-Sol. It actually wasn’t bad. Aside from the slight burning sensation in the back of my throat.


Ms. Shepard watched as I downed my sip of coffee. When I was finished, she took a sip. Then another. And another. Until FINALLY, she had finished. I was surprised that she hadn’t complained. “Good job Nicholas,” she said. Then she sent me off to lunch.























Chapter 3: Mixandra





That Friday night I couldn’t sleep. When we had gone back to class after lunch, Ms. Shepard wasn’t there. The principal was, and he explained that Ms. Shepard was in the hospital. “She is in critical condition, but the doctors can’t figure out what the problem is. If you noticed anything different about Ms. Shepard, or have the slightest idea what might be wrong with her, your comments would be greatly appreciated.” I felt like he was staring straight at me as he said that. but nobody could suspect me. Yet.


In seventh period, the last class of the day, people kept passing notes and whispering. I even thought I saw a few kids point at me. At first I brushed it off, thinking it was all in my head. But I could have sworn I heard someone say the word, ‘coffee’, and I started to get really nervous. Luckily, I had planned for this.


In case I suspected I had been found out, I had left a large hiking backpack filled with food, water, a tent, blankets, etc. in my locker. I figured that could last me a while until I could find a place to stay if I had to make a run for it. Just then, there was a call over the classroom intercom.


“Mr. Parkson?” a female voice said. “Yes ma’am.” replied my teacher. “We need Nicholas Name in the seventh grade office please.” Mr. Parkson glanced at me, and when our eyes met, he flinched a little. He managed to stutter an OK, and motioned for me to leave.


At this point, you can’t even imagine how I felt. I tried my hardest to look casual, and got out of my seat. On my way out the door, I passed a guy with white blond hair. He whispered, “Did you do it?” to me. I tried to give him a blank stare as I whispered back, “ Do WHAT?” But I didn’t give him a chance to reply. I just walked quickly out the door.


I knew one thing for sure. I was NOT about to go to the office. So I headed to my locker. I looked around quickly once I got there. If someone saw me leaving with a backpack, I’d be questioned. I thought that the coast was clear, but suddenly I saw a man walk around the corner. He did a double-take when he saw me.


“Where are you going with that backpack Mr. Name?” He gave me a stern look. “How do you know my name?” I asked. Suddenly I realized that he was the new vice principal. I was still shocked that he knew who I was and how to say my name, because we had never met before.


“That’s not important,” he said. “Come with me.” He turned and began walking towards the office. My first instinct was to buck out of there, but he was young, and looked pretty fast. Plus I would be handicapped with my fifteen pound bag. I decided to fight. His back was still turned, so I reached down and picked up a couple of rocks.


“I’m sorry,” I said as prepared to launch the rocks. “It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” he said as he reached for the walkie-talkie at his waist. “Actually, I mean I’m sorry for THIS!” I started chugging rocks at him. When he turned around, one smacked him right in the nose. He held his face and cried out with tears in his eyes. His nose was bleeding! He snatched up his walkie-talkie, and spoke angrily into it. “I’ve got him! He’s running towards the parking lot!”


I ducked around the corner and began running towards the ladies room. Earlier on, I had plastered an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door to keep everyone out. Now I was hoping none of the janitors had looked into it. I opened the door and dived in. But then my jaw dropped down. A girl was in here! Now I know that sounds pretty dumb, since it IS the ladies restroom, but the sign on the door should have kept everyone out!


The girl’s head shot up, and she dropped the bag of chips she had been munching on. “Nick! The guy’s room is on the other side!” That’s when I realized it was only my friend Alexandra. She had been eating a texting on her cell in here all period. She saw my backpack and grinned. “So you’re skipping class too? By why seventh period?” She gave me a confused look.


“Keep it down! They’re after me!” I panted. “My bad. Don’t worry. Nobody’s in here.” She replied. “Shh!” I said. I had heard the static from the walkie-talkies outside. “Shoot, you got the whole staff after you!”


Now I was getting angry. “Shut UP Mix!” If they heard people talking in an out of order restroom, they would get suspicious. “Ay, I ain’t the mixed one. You’re the half Asian half white boy. I’m 100% Latina!”


“Mixandra, look. The police are out there trying to arrest me! You’ve got to be quiet!” I called her Mixandra because of her dream to become a DJ. “The policia?” she whispered.


We stood in silence for a few moments until Mixandra lost her patience, which she really doesn’t have much of. She pulled out her cell phone and began furiously texting something. Then her face lit up.


“Check it Name! I’ve got something!” She shoved the Motorola in my face. The small colorful screen read:





OK. GOT A PLACE 4 U 2 STAY. SWING BY DA BASE.





She tugged excitedly on my arm. “Vamanos!” Mixandra really can’t speak much Spanish, but whenever she gets a chance, she does. “Hold up, where are we going?” I didn’t hear anyone outside, but I was still hesitant. “A friend! You’ll like him! Promise!” She smiled. “His name’s Alejandro! Come on, it’s not like you have anywhere else to go.”


She had a point. “Don’t you even want to know why the whole school’s after me?” I asked. “I’d rather not. But don’t worry about it! Alejandro doesn’t know about that. I just told him that you are running away from home…like me.”


“You’re running away?!” I was shocked! “But you always said that would ruin your chances of majoring in music!” Alexandra rolled her eyes. “Si, but that was BEFORE I met Alejandro. He’s got great music contacts. And I can trust him.”


She explained how she was planning on going over to his ‘base’ in about half an hour, but when she told him about my urgent situation, he told her to come by now. She told me how Alejandro had tons of things at the base.


“Computers, TVs, video games, you name it, that man has it!” Mix looked pleased. “All that belongs to him?” I whispered as I pushed open the bathroom door. “How old is this guy?” “Sixteen, and he just got his Driver’s.” Mixandra seemed proud as she said, “He’s a high school drop out.” “WHAT?!” I whisper-screamed, “What’s wrong with you?! For all you know, he could have STOLEN all that crap!”


“Nick, he didn’t STEAL it. His parents were rich! They left him a fortune!” “So he dropped out to take care of runaways?!” I retorted. “Come ON, Mix! I thought you were smarter than that! Or maybe your going to tell me he’s your BOYFRIEND, now? Is-” she cut me off. “Don’t talk to me about intelligence, ok? Who’s the one getting chased by the po po? Now I wanna know what you did!”


I sighed, ”You don’t wanna know.”


“Does it have anything to do with all the sirens I’ve been hearing?!”


“…Yeah…Look, Mix, I’m sorry. Maybe I CAN trust him. After all, it take a long time before YOU can trust someone…”


“That’s okay,” Mix said. “Come on before the school staff finds us…”

I started this story last year, and it seems like a lot of people liked it. How do I get it published?
phew!!! no idea...


good though...