I Am Twelve Novels & Stories

“What is it?” “There’s this little girl, Caitlyn. She’s twelve and she’s dying. There’s nothing more the doctors can do. I…” she stopped and dropped her head. He thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes. “I just want to make whatever time she has left as fun and special as possible.”

Caleb asked, a huge grin on his face. “Yes,” I admitted. “I thought you were hot.” Caleb’s smirk was annoying me. “I was twelve,” I protested. “Do you still think we’re hot?” Reese asked, his face in the same grin as his brother. “Kind of,” I said, smirking.

I turn, with tears in my eyes, towards the dark forest. I sit up in my bed, sweat dripping from my forehead. I scan the room to find everyone else is still asleep. I rub my eyes as I sigh and grab a drink of water in the glass next to me. The same dream has plagued me for almost six years. I was twelve years old when the wild rogues attacked my home, ruining my chance of a happy life with my parents.

The same day as my twelfth birthday. {Six years ago} "Honey, come on. Get out of the car." Mum said. "I don't wanna be late for my flight to the Philippines. Come on." "But mum. I want to spend my birthday with you and dad. Why can't you just take your leave at work for once?" I insisted. That same day has also been marked as my twelfth birthday. And mum bribed me with a gift-giving activity for all the students in our school for my schedule to be hectic. Their manservants have prepared thousands of gifts last night in the mansion. Toys and other school stuff are inside those gifts.

It wаѕ rіdісulоuѕ, аnd I quickly brushed іt аwау. I wаѕ just ѕоmе twеlvе-уеаr-оld nеrd thаt he happened to feel ѕоrrу fоr. Hе wаѕ just раѕѕіng bу іn my hоur оf nееd, оnlу dоіng hіѕ gеntlеmаnlу duty іn helping mе hоmе. Nоthіng mоrе.

A little girl carrying a hockey stick. Me arguing with my father. Rory stared and then laughed out loud. "No." "Yes." "I would've remembered you." The confidence in her voice was insulting. Understandable but still insulting. I folded my arms. "I was twelve." "So?" "So I had braces." Her eyes widened and I hated how much satisfaction that gave me. "Oh my God." I exclaimed as the memory returned fully now. It was now sharp and complete in my head. I could see it. Feel it even

"I'm Tina, Ma'am. Nice to meet you." "How old are you, Tina?" she asks, and I get the feeling she's expecting me to hold up my fingers to show her like I'm a small child. "I'm twelve. How about you?" "Tina!" Dad snaps. "What?" I ask, even though I know it's rude.

I finally broke, my eyes fixed on my plate. Twelve didn’t respond for a moment, and I almost thought she was ignoring me till she spoke again, her voice soft. “For what?” I didn’t look up. “For being weird,” my voice—traitorous—wavered slightly. I was always weird, always the odd one, the one who pushed everyone away. Twelve had stuck by me because she was quiet, and afraid to explore. And fifty nine—it was unclear why she remained friends with me. “I don’t think you’re weird, five.”

Sophia's POV In the office, my head grew heavy until it sank onto the desk. My bones ached with tiredness. I had barely closed my eyes when the nightmare returned – stronger and more real than ever. The stifling heat came in through the broken window of our living room. Me, at twelve years old and scrawny, sitting on the cement floor with my rag dolls. The blonde doll in a blue dress was the "mommy." The one with brown hair in a patched-up dress was "me."

Duh! "Are you what? Twelve?" I asked amid my laughter, glancing around, noticing that some of the people at the bar had their gazes directed at us, at her, mostly. How the tables had turned. With one hand, she did an indifferent toss of her hair, pouting, as the other still held onto the plate of ice cream overbher head protectively. "If that would mean I get to have this saliva-inducing plate of ice cream, then yeah, I'm twelve." She finished with a playful glee.