by Missy Newcastle


Hi. My Name is Missy Newcastle.

I recently moved here .

I'm 5'7" and 98 lbs. I have blue eyes and strawberry blond hair which I usually like pulled back in a pony tail, unless I really want to dress up.

I'm an only child and my dad is a work-aholic, but so is my mom who is usually doing some type of charity work. I guess that's why my parents think I need to be involved in every group or activity.

I was just signed up with the Scouts, I take my dance class, work on the cheer squad (like they need one here at an all girls' school, but we do get out and it helps when we have a mutual dance with one of the boys' schools).  I'm in the debate club, and finally I end up helping my mom with every charity she needs work on.  Even with all my activities, I still find time for myself.

Now at school I'm getting used to my uniform, and I like testing the teachers, like when I wear pantyhose (it drives them nuts), or hem my skirt too short (thats the one my mom got involved in and I won't make that mistake again) They gave up a little because they don't complain anymore about my sheer kneesocks. I know they hate it. 

I like being a little bit of a rebel. I love dressing up when I can, but it's not as often as I like. I have a bad habit of ending up waist-deep in trouble.

Well, now that you know who I am, I'll tell you the real danger of smoking . . .

Okay . . . The other day my dad came home from another long day at work. He dropped down into his chair and I brought him a drink made by my mom.

As ususal, dad gave me the stuff from his pockets to put them in his tray. Well, someone at dad's work gave him a whole bunch of cigars. I think for something well done or something.

Now I should not have thought about them, but I could not help it. I slipped one into my pocket. Now, I could not get out to try it that night, but I hatched a plan for school.

My last class is math.  Now it may seem a little nerdy, but I am really doing well and have done all the extra credit, so I have a A+++.

Well, I went to my teacher and asked her in my sweetest voice:

"Can I go to study hall today?  I really need to catch up on my English."

"Of course Missy.  You're doing really well.  Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, I just need to finish my packet . . . thanks . . ."

Now, I needed to walk down to study hall, but I need to stop and put my books away and slip out the back door.

"Missy Newcastle!  What are you doing out of class?"

"Oh . . . I, uh, -- I'm going to study hall and needed to pick up some books . . . you see, I'm doing well in math . . . and I could use some other time . . . I just needed to get some books. . ."

"Very well . . ."

( That was close! )

Now, I watch as the hall monitor walks off.  

I'm in the clear.

I dash out the back door, across the lawn, and jump over the wall boardering the woods outside of school . . .

I've seen my dad do this before.  I bite the end and light one of the matches I brought.  The cigar lights and . . . cough . . . !  cough . . . !   Oh that's gross!  How can people stand that . . .  ?

What was that sound . . . ?

"Can you smell that?"

Oh no!  It's the Hall Monitor . . .

"Mmmmmm yes . . ."

She's with the Grounds Keeper . . .

"Maybe we should go see if someone is on the other side of the wall . . ."

Oh no, what now?   I can't leave this here . . .  Where can I

There's a stream over there . . .

I run over and throw the cigar in the stream, and run deeper into the woods.  I'll just go home . . . 

I can hear them looking around.  They found the cigar, but they can't catch me . . .

Deeper into the woods I run.  I can't hear them.  They must have given up.  I look back as I run, to see if I can see them.  I can't.  I'm home free . . . 

BLIP. . .  !  BLOOP. . . !

My feet come to a sudden halt!  .I look down to see just the
tops of my white knee socks sticking out of the mud.  The area around me is still quivering like a waterbed when you jump on it . . .

Oh no . . . 

I try to walk out, but all that does is drive my legs deeper . . .  I can't feel the bottom . . . the cold wetness crawls up my legs . . . I try pumping my legs . . . deeper I sink . . . I'm sinking . . . what did I get myself into . . .?

The mud gets deeper.  My skirt starts fanning out over the
surface . . .

No . . . it can't be!  No!  

It's quicksand!!  

Maybe the Grounds Keeper is still around . . . what will I tell them?  I can't call out . . . but I have to . . .



HELP!   Please be there . . .  HELP!!

The mud hugs my waist.  Deeper I'm sinking . . . Maybe I can swim out . . . I drive my arms into the mud . . . no good!  It forces me deeper!  The mud creeps up and over my chest . . . I paddle and kick, hoping to stay afloat . . .

My shouts become more and more shrill, but my
voice is giving out.  They must have gone back to the school.  I'm going to die in this,  and no one will find me!

I'm up to my neck . . . All that is sticking out is my head!
My arms make little hills in the mud.  

Out of the corner of my eye I see something . . . it's a root . . . maybe . . . please . . .

Slowly I draw one hand up and out of the muck.  It breaks the surface . . . reaching . . . reaching. . . reaching . . . I've  got it!  Now my other hand . . . yes . . . I have it!  It's slippery, so I have to be careful . . .

I tighten my grip on the root and pull . . .  the mud is giving me up.  I can feel my body sliding in the mud . . . the silky mud slides over my body . . .

As I pull,  my body rises to the surface . . . my skirt is still around my waist.  My bottom sticks up out of the mud like 2 hills in the mud.  I can now crawl on the surface of the mud . . . luckly my shoes stayed on.

Finally I reach solid ground.  I scoop the sticky mud off my body it drops with a plop on the ground. 

I can see where the road is and I stick to the edge as I walk so no one can see me.  

Luckly no one is home.  I am able to wash up and wash my uniform before anyone gets home.

Now don't smoke because you might almost get caught by the staff, and do get caught in quicksand while running away.