Unforgettable Young Adult Fiction: Browse Completed Stories for Teens!

Eighteen days after giving up on Brendan Maynard, Jayde Rosario cut off her waist-length hair and called her father, announcing her decision to move to California and attend UC Berkeley. Her father, surprised, asked about the sudden change, reminding her how she' d always insisted on staying with Brendan. Jayde forced a laugh, revealing the painful truth: Brendan was getting married, and she, his stepsister, could no longer cling to him. That night, she tried to tell Brendan about her college acceptance, but his fiancée, Chloie Ellis, interrupted with a bubbly call, and Brendan' s tender words to Chloie twisted a knife in Jayde' s heart. She remembered how his tenderness used to be hers alone, how he had protected her, and how she had poured out her heart to him in a diary and a love letter, only for him to explode, tearing the letter and yelling, "I'm your brother!" He had stormed out, leaving her to painstakingly tape the shredded pieces back together. Her love, however, didn't die, not even when he brought Chloie home and told her to call her "sister-in-law." Now, she understood. She had to put that fire out herself. She had to dig Brendan out of her heart.

Unlike her twin brother, Jackson, Jessa struggled with her weight and very few friends. Jackson was an athlete and the epitome of popularity, while Jessa felt invisible. Noah was the quintessential "It" guy at school-charismatic, well-liked, and undeniably handsome. To make matters worse, he was Jackson's best friend and Jessa's biggest bully. During their senior year, Jessa decides it was time for her to gain some self-confidence, find her true beauty and not be the invisible twin. As Jessa transformed, she begins to catch the eye of everyone around her, especially Noah. Noah, initially blinded by his perception of Jessa as merely Jackson's sister, started to see her in a new light. How did she become the captivating woman invading his thoughts? When did she become the object of his fantasies? Join Jessa on her journey from being the class joke to a confident, desirable young woman, surprising even Noah as she reveals the incredible person she has always been inside.

The biting Detroit wind cut through my worn coat. Every day was a fight, cleaning floors, dodging debt collectors, haunted by the memory of my mother, Eleanor, walking out when I was five. Then, after two decades of silence, her sleek black SUV appeared outside my rundown apartment. Eleanor, dripping in luxury, had finally resurfaced. But her return wasn't for me; it was for my bone marrow, to save her "perfect" son, Leo, who had leukemia. She demanded my "sisterly duty," then offered a pittance for my life-saving donation. Her lawyer even tried to intimidate me, threatening to expose my difficult past if I didn't comply. It was a cold, transactional exchange for the body part she needed. My bitterness festered. Abandoned, struggled, and now, I was only valuable for my biology, a pawn in her meticulously crafted perfect life. Was this my purpose? To be a disposable resource for the woman who casually discarded me? The injustice burned. But then a mysterious informant revealed Eleanor's true secret: Leo was adopted, and her entire marriage to the tech mogul Jason was built on a web of deceit she was desperate to conceal. My bone marrow wasn't just for saving a life; it was to protect her empire of lies. This wasn't a request; it was a battle. And I knew exactly how to win.

The last thing I remembered was Chloe's voice, sharp and gleeful, slicing through the haze of my headache: "They never loved you, Ava. Not Liam, not Noah. It was always me." Her words were a hammer blow, each one a nail in the coffin of my life, a searing supernova of agony that exploded behind my eyes before everything faded to black. I gasped, sitting bolt upright in my childhood bed, my unlined hands proof of a terrifying truth: I was back, the calendar on my desk screaming September 5th, senior year, before the nightmare truly began. The reel of my first life rewound in fast-forward: Stanford, the calculated betrayals by Liam and Noah, Chloe's venomous strings, the engineered vasectomies, my promising career systematically destroyed, and the aneurysm that ended it all. This was impossible, a future I'd already lived, a death I'd already died, yet the worn duvet felt real, the scent of my mother's pancakes too vibrant—a second chance, if I dared to seize it, to change everything. My fingers flew across the keyboard, deleting Stanford from my early college applications and replacing it with MIT—my true dream, the one they had ruthlessly crushed. Just then, the doorbell rang, and through the frosted glass, I saw them: Liam Walker, Noah Chen, and Chloe Jenkins, the architects of my past ruin, their bright smiles and feigned innocence an instant surge of cold dread.

My smile dies the second the door swings open. Gasping, I stumble back as if burned by the deep scowl aimed at me. "You!" I whisper, and at the same time, my arch-enemy's scowl morphs into a sinister smile. Tyler Brooks raises an eyebrow. "I didn't realize you've added stalking to your nerdy tendencies," he finally says, his deep voice causing me to shiver. I feel cold sweat break across my forehead, but I curl my fingers tighter around the strap of my purse. "I'm here to... for... um..." Tyler snorts, seemingly taking pleasure in my embarrassment. "What are you doing here, Garcia?" *** Lila Garcia thought her life couldn't get any worse as the infamous nerd of Princeton High, constantly bullied by the jocks. But when Tyler Brooks' parents leave town and they need someone to watch his younger siblings, Lila is roped into babysitting duty. Tyler has always been a jerk to her since day one, but now Lila's stuck in his world and seeing him as more than just an arrogant football star. In close quarters, Lila learns that Tyler has secrets, and that he isn't the guy she pegged him to be. As her feelings start to change, and the lines between love and hate blur, Lila must decide if this new version of Tyler is worth trusting, or if she's just another target in his game.

I used to think my life was a gilded cage, trapped by the family who adopted me, the Blakelys. They showered me with privilege, but it was just a facade. Then, everything changed. I' m on my knees, a throbbing pain in my cheek, accused by my adoptive mother, Elizabeth, of assaulting my "sister," Nicole. Nicole plays the perfect victim, her eyes brimming with fake tears as Elizabeth tells me, "You are not our daughter, Stella. Nicole is. You owe her everything." They stripped me of my identity, making me feel like a replacement, a charity case who had stolen another's life. In my last life, their words shattered me. I was a naive girl, easily manipulated, unknowingly prepped for sacrifice. I died at twenty-one, my "Golden Aura"-my very life force-drained to fuel their real daughter's ascent, sealing my real parents' gruesome fate. But the joke's on them. I'm back. Reborn at eighteen, with every chilling memory of my past life and the decade I spent as a wandering spirit. This time, I' ll play their twisted game, but with one crucial difference: I make the rules. And I will burn their world to the ground.

When Chloe came to Leighton High for the first time, in a small town, she didn't expect to come into a bully's radar. All her life, she had always stayed out of people's way, and was never really noticed. She had also always had to make an effort to make friends, but never enemies. Not that she didn't think she was way past getting one, but she didn't think it would be someone as Handsome as Zach was. The first time they met was a disaster, and she tried her best to stay away from him, the only problem was, he wasn't letting her, and soon, the hate he showed her, soon turned into something she had never experienced before. Would she be able to get rid of the unwanted feeling she was getting for him, or the unwanted attention he was showing her? Find out in the intriguing story.

My eyes snapped open. The dorm room ceiling, with its familiar water stain shaped like a crooked smile, loomed above. Across the room, Brianna Jones hummed softly, applying makeup. She wore a cheap copy of my cashmere sweater. My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn' t right. This was weeks ago. The memories crashed down: the Paris program acceptance, the "going away" party, the sickening taste, then absolute darkness. Brianna had poisoned me. I saw her smirk, remembered collapsing. Yet here she was, her reflection smiling sweetly in her compact mirror, her voice falsely cheerful. "Morning, sleepyhead," she chirped. This was the ambitious girl from a small town. My roommate. The one who wanted my life. I stared at her, the image of her malicious triumph at my party seared into my brain. The subtle digs, the way she' d implied I was the copycat, her constant imitation of my style, my social media. She' d meticulously cataloged me, then painstakingly isolated me, even turning away Liam, the hockey captain I genuinely liked. All my kindness burned away in the hospital bed I now only remembered. "You okay, Ava?" she asked, a tilt to her head. "You look like you've seen a ghost." My parents always told me I was too trusting, too eager to see the good in people. They were right. This inexplicable situation felt like a cruel joke, yet it was real. The date on my phone confirmed it. Several weeks before the party. Before she tried to kill me. I had a second chance. And this time, I wouldn' t be naive. I wouldn' t be kind to the snake in my room. This time, Ava Miller wouldn't be a doormat. This time, I would fight.

It is not to be understood that all statements here made are either ascertained facts or universally admitted conjectures. The introduction is intended merely to put those who are not scholars, and probably have not books of reference at hand, in a position to approach the translation at as little disadvantage as may be. Accordingly, we give the account that commends itself to us, without discussion or reference to authorities. Those who would like a more complete idea of Lucian should read Croiset's Essai sur la vie et les oeuvres de Lucien, on which the first two sections of this introduction are very largely based. The only objections to the book (if they are objections) are that it is in French, and of 400 octavo pages. It is eminently readable. With the exception of a very small number of statements, of which the truth is by no means certain, all that we know of Lucian is derived from his own writings. And any reader who prefers to have his facts at first rather than at second hand can consequently get them by reading certain of his pieces, and making the natural deductions from them. Those that contain biographical matter are, in the order corresponding to the periods of his life on which they throw light, The Vision, Demosthenes, Nigrinus, The Portrait-study and Defence (in which Lucian is Lycinus), The Way to write History, The double ndictment (in which he is The Syrian), The Fisher (Parrhesiades), Swans and Amber, Alexander, Hermotimus_ (Lycinus), Menippus and Icaromenippus (in which Menippus represents him), A literary Prometheus, Herodotus, Zeuxis, Harmonides, The Scythian, The Death of Peregrine, The Book-fancier, Demonax, The Rhetorician's Vade mecum, Dionysus, Heracles, A Slip of the Tongue, Apology for 'The dependent Scholar.'_ Of these The Vision is a direct piece of autobiography; there is intentional but veiled autobiography in several of the other pieces; in others again conclusions can be drawn from comparison of his statements with facts known from external sources. Lucian lived from about 125 to about 200 A.D., under the Roman Emperors Antoninus Pius, M. Aurelius and Lucius Verus, Commodus, and perhaps Pertinax. He was a Syrian, born at Samosata on the Euphrates, of parents to whom it was of importance that he should earn his living without spending much time or money on education. His maternal uncle being a statuary, he was apprenticed to him, having shown an aptitude for modelling in the wax that he surreptitiously scraped from his school writing-tablets. The apprenticeship lasted one day. It is clear that he was impulsive all through life; and when his uncle corrected him with a stick for breaking a piece of marble, he ran off home, disposed already to think he had had enough of statuary. His mother took his part, and he made up his mind by the aid of a vision that came to him the same night.

Kaida thought forever was the deal with her boyfriend, Liam, the captain of the Runners Hockey Team, until he broke up with her and reunited with his childhood lover, who had returned after several years of being away. Heartbroken and angry, Kaida decided to make her ex-boyfriend jealous by kissing her best friend's older brother, Maverick. Unfortunately, she reignited the flame he'd been trying to quench for years. Now, there was no turning back and no quenching the obsessive flame burning inside Maverick for her. After some time, Liam realized he truly loved Kaida and wanted her back, but Maverick wasn't letting her go. Kaida was his now, and he would go to the end of the earth for her sake. What began as revenge against her ex turned into something twisted and dark: something beyond words and certainly beyond obsession.

Thanksgiving weekend was just around the corner, and as an intern ranger, I was preparing for what my supervisor, Mark Thorne, called a "mandatory exploratory survey" to Devil's Gulch. But this seemingly routine assignment was a meticulously planned death trap, set by the man I worked for and the sister I loved. The rock bit into my back, a sharp pain, then nothing as my climbing rope went slack, sabotaged, as I plummeted into the cold darkness of the crevasse. Mark's chilling, empty smile was the last thing I saw above me on the narrow ledge, my sister Emily looking away, silent, complicit, as I fought for air. Killed. By my own supervisor and the only family I had left, betrayed for reasons I couldn't comprehend as my life vanished in an instant. Then I jolted awake, not in a freezing abyss, but in my familiar bunk, the comforting scent of pine from my cheap park-issued mattress filling the air. My heart hammered against my ribs as I touched my face, my arms, realizing there were no broken bones, no blood. The calendar on the wall screamed at me: three days before that fateful Thanksgiving trip to Devil's Gulch. I was alive. It was a memory, vivid, terrifying, but now it was also a warning. A second chance. This time, I wouldn't be the naive one; I would protect myself first, and if I could, protect my sister from him and from herself. I could still stop this. And I would.

My deskmate, Elara Vance, was a walking contradiction: weaving grand tales of designer clothes and exotic family trips to Zurich, yet she dressed in rags and carried the undeniable scent of neglect. I' d silently endured her outlandish fantasies and the awkward pity they stirred, until one tension-filled day, my patience completely snapped, and I brutally screamed across the crowded school hallway, "What is it, Elara? Are your parents dead or something?" The raw grief that instantly crumpled her face, followed by the shock of her fist connecting with my jaw, silenced the entire room, but the real storm was yet to come. Weeks later, news tore through our high school: Elara Vance, the girl everyone mocked, had mysteriously secured a full-ride scholarship to Yale, a feat that struck everyone, especially the popular clique, as utterly impossible. The internet exploded, fueled by vicious social media posts from school bullies, rapidly branding her a "Yale Scammer" and launching a horrifying campaign of doxxing and vile harassment that escalated far beyond high school cruelty, becoming a public digital execution. But as the online mob screamed for her digital demise, I was haunted by the memory of her tear-streaked face and that primal, anguished cry that day in the hallway: "They're heroes!" That desperate, defiant plea didn't fit the narrative of the pathetic liar I believed her to be, leaving me with a chilling, unsettling confusion. A sickening wave of guilt began to consume me, the realization hitting hard that I had played a part in unleashing this brutal, unprovoked attack on her. I knew then, with a desperate urgency that superseded everything else, that I had to find Elara Vance and finally unearth the true, devastating story behind her lies and the mysterious heroism of her parents.

Katherine Tynan was born on January 23rd 1859 into a large farming family in Clondalkin, County Dublin, and educated at a convent school in Drogheda. In her early years she suffered from eye ulcers, which left her somewhat myopic. She first began to have her poems published in 1878. A great friend to Gerard Manley Hopkins and to WB Yeats (who it is rumoured proposed marriage but was rejected). With Yeats to encourage her, her poetry blossomed and she was equally supportive of his. She married fellow writer and barrister Henry Albert Hinkson in 1898. They moved to England where she bore and began to raise 5 children although two were to tragically die in infancy. In 1912 they returned to Claremorris, County Mayo when her husband was appointed magistrate there from 1912 until 1919. Sadly her husband died that year but Katherine continued to write. Her output was prolific, some sources have her as the author of almost a 100 novels, many volumes of poetry, short stories, biography and many volumes which she edited. Katherine died on April 2nd 1931 and she is buried at Kensal Green Cemetery in London.

A young and innocent girl, bullied and shamed for her complexion, fell in love with a newly admitted classmate in high school. A twist- she had a best friend since kindergarten who always had her back and stood for her against all odds until his feelings grew stronger than friendship. She got close to her crush and they became tight friends than ever, causing jealousy among the girls, especially the most popular ones. It finally reached the night before prom when she found out she was being played by the new student. He always led her on since he was dared. Her best friend saw the signs and warned her before then but she turned a blind eye. Shattered and heartbroken, she needed a shoulder to rest on and her best friend came through still something usual happened. What could it be?

Entering a one-sided love isn't easy, especially if the relationship you have is only for a business. "Why do you have to be alive?" My lips loosened up as I sensed the bitterness in his voice. It is as if he hates my existence so much that he has to do something for me to be gone already. "Why do you even need to be existed in this fucking world if you're just going to ruin my life!" Ciara Hilvano is an innocent and martyr wife who always gets violated by her husband and makes her feel that she's an unwanted wife. This guy really doesn't have any idea that the girl he was hurting and almost killed everyday was secretly suffering from the cancer in heart. The time came when Ciara's life was in big trouble. She almost died because someone tried to threaten her life. What if Ciara can no longer cope with the challenges and trials of her life? What if she just let her own death fetch her? Will Tyron regret all the things he did to Ciara? What if Ciara dies? Will he cry?

My phone glowed in the dark, showing the smiling face of Ethan Reed, the man I' d loved for years. Next to him, Tiffany Chen leaned close, radiating triumph. The caption below demanded "100 likes and we' re done!" The count was stuck at 99. My thumb hovered, then pressed. 99 became 100. It was over, just like he wanted. But then, Mark, his best friend and messenger, called. "Sarah? What the hell did you just do? Ethan is just messing around, he doesn' t mean it." I told him I was busy, packing for college abroad on a scholarship. He muffled a curse, and I hung up. The fight that led to this was orchestrated by Tiffany. She had "accidentally" ruined my university application designs, then cried to Ethan, who, of course, believed her. He accused me of jealousy, of being "needy." And then, his favorite threat: "Maybe we should just break up." I was silent, not with weakness, but with a leaden weight in my chest. He stormed out, slamming the door. That night, alone, I found his tablet. A voice memo to Mark played his casual, cruel voice: "Sarah is getting on my last nerve...I'm gonna have to put her back in her place. Maybe another public breakup threat? That always gets her crying and begging." I had been a fool, shrinking myself to fit his world. But hearing his utter contempt, it wasn't just pain-it was clarity. The fight was over. I had lost. But in that loss, I found myself.

She was hopeful that her life would change. There would be a new start after she graduated from high school. She was ready to fly in the sky, and rise towards her dream. Little did she know that her life would turn upside down on returning home. The biggest life-changing event was waiting for her. She was hardly aware that the bracelet she had been wearing since her birth was a token. The token of her marriage to a man she had never met. She could do nothing but follow the arrangement, for life wasn't willing to spare her. Her helplessness left her no choice. Finally, she decided to give up everything and run away! And again, destiny made fun of her. Unexpected and unknowingly, he stepped into her life again. What was in store for her in the future and where was life leading her?

The screech of tires was the last thing I heard. Then, a crushing weight, a flash of white, and a final, searing thought: Chloe. I woke up with a gasp, my heart hammering. I was in my dorm room, the morning sun slanting through the blinds. The date was March 15th. The day it all began. The day I died. The day I was reborn. The door creaked open. Chloe, my gymnastics teammate, poked her head in, her smile a mask of sweet innocence. "Ava, you up? Big news!" I didn't say anything. I just stared at her. The memory of her shoving me into traffic burned behind my eyes. In my first life, I saw her as a struggling friend. Now, I saw a predator. She bounced into the room, her cheap perfume filling the air. "So, for Spring Break, I'm treating the whole team! A VIP shopping spree on Rodeo Drive!" This was the lie that launched my ruin. "They need everyone's ID for the list," she said. "Can I just get a quick pic of your driver's license?" In my first life, I handed it over without a second thought, eager for approval. That simple act had allowed her to steal my identity, my future. My credit ruined, my career ended. All while my boyfriend, Liam, had stood by her side. Even helped her. This time, my voice was ice. "No." Chloe' s smile faltered. Liam walked in, wrapping his arms around her. "What's going on, ladies?" Chloe' s eyes welled up instantly. "Ava's being so weird! She won't even let me see her ID." Liam looked at me, his handsome face clouded with disappointment. "Ava, come on. Don't be selfish." He hadn't defended me as I lay dying in the street. He chose her. Always her. Rage simmered, cold and potent. I wasn't that naive girl anymore. They wanted my ID? They wanted my life? This time, they would pay. And it would be glorious.

Julie Greene hadn't had a boyfriend since she started college. The last time she was in a relationship, her heart was broken and it was hard to trust again. Having a best friend since childhood was a big advantage, she never really felt lonely. Kelsey had always been like a sister, they were almost always together. They were always there for each other, even when Julie had a bit of a fall out with Preston, her "other" best friend. That is until Kelsey had a new boyfriend that she met on her summer vacation.

After considering the historic page, and viewing the living world with anxious solicitude, the most melancholy emotions of sorrowful indignation have depressed my spirits, and I have sighed when obliged to confess, that either nature has made a great difference between man and man, or that the civilization, which has hitherto taken place in the world, has been very partial. I have turned over various books written on the subject of education, and patiently observed the conduct of parents and the management of schools; but what has been the result? a profound conviction, that the neglected education of my fellow creatures is the grand source of the misery I deplore; and that women in particular, are rendered weak and wretched by a variety of concurring causes, originating from one hasty conclusion. The conduct and manners of women, in fact, evidently prove, that their minds are not in a healthy state; for, like the flowers that are planted in too rich a soil, strength and usefulness are sacrificed to beauty; and the flaunting leaves, after having pleased a fastidious eye, fade, disregarded on the stalk, long before the season when they ought to have arrived at maturity. One cause of this barren blooming I attribute to a false system of education, gathered from the books written on this subject by men, who, considering females rather as women than human creatures, have been more anxious to make them alluring mistresses than rational wives; and the understanding of the sex has been so bubbled by this specious homage, that the civilized women of the present century, with a few exceptions, are only anxious to inspire love, when they ought to cherish a nobler ambition, and by their abilities and virtues exact respect.