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.

My Harvard acceptance letter felt like a golden ticket, a one-way out of this dead-end town. That Friday night, after the football game, all I wanted was to help my dad close his auto shop. But then I heard a muffled sob. It was Jessica Miller, the head cheerleader, trapped by star quarterback Bryce Vanderbilt. My dad taught me: "You see something wrong, you make it right." So, I intervened. That act of courage cost me everything. Jessica pointed me out to the police: "He' s the one who attacked me." My scholarship was rescinded for "moral turpitude." My name was dragged through the mud. The stress killed my father, the only man who believed me. Months later, at a gas station, I confronted Jessica and Bryce. He shoved me into traffic. And then, nothing. I woke up expecting hell, but instead, I was back in the high school parking lot. The Friday night lights buzzed. The Harvard letter was in my pocket. And then I heard it again: Jessica's muffled cry. The trauma of my first life crashed over me. Last time, I sacrificed everything for a lie. This time, I knew what to do. I turned around, put my hands in my pockets, and walked away. My father was alive right now. And my only job was to keep him that way. This time, justice would look very different.

My name is Sarah Miller. I aced the SATs, my ticket to Stanford and a full scholarship – it should have been the greatest triumph of my life, a hard-earned escape from a mother who despised me and a twin sister who envied my every success. But my mother, Karen, decided it was Jessie' s turn to shine. With a sneer, Jessie snatched my acceptance package, revealing their sinister plot: they' d forged documents, stealing my future and handing it to her. When I tried to fight back, they launched a vicious counter-attack. Faked photos of "me" at wild parties, half-naked and drunk, flooded the internet, all blurred just enough to frame me. My best friend, Ashley, then publicly testified to my "insanity" and "promiscuity" for a bribe. The school believed them. Stanford revoked my scholarship, citing "moral turpitude." I became a pariah, whispered about, pointed at, branded the "psycho slut." The injustice was a suffocating weight. How could my own family do this? How could everyone fall for their lies? The world collapsed, and I fell into the dark, cold river. But instead of an ending, I woke up. Back in my bed, on SAT exam day. My alarm clock blared 6:00 AM. I had a second chance. And this time, they wouldn't win.

Welcome guys in 2nd part of MY STEP DADDY. if you are new you need to read first part MY STEP DADDY. Mature content 18+ "Daddy…." She moaned clenching my hair, arching her back giving me more of her nipples. I took her areola in my mouth sucking hard like a baby starving for milk. I was starving for her milk making her nipples bloody red I dragged my mouth giving her wet kisses. I make sure her whole body covered with my marks. All red and purple marks of my passionate love for her. She was moaning, Her erotic breath and my groan filled the room.I lash out my beast on her. I was rock and hard to enter inside her. "Daddy Please" She begged her face was flashed, Her cheeks were pinky like her name. "Rose promise me, you won't leave me" I asked entering inside her. "Yes daddy…I won't…" She said digging her nail in my back. "I love you princess…" I said thrusting inside her. It feel like heaven, Her pussy my heaven. "I love you daddy…." She moaned coming on me and I thrusted fastest speed like if I stopped she will vanished beneath me. "Princess where our baby…" I asked coming inside her. Her whole body frozen beneath me. I saw tear rolling down in corner of her eyes getting invisible in her hair. "Baby…" I asked and she broke into loud sob. "What happened" She cried giving me hard glare like I am the person in this world she hated most. The eyes holding so much love for me was replaced with hatred. "Baby.." I asked trying to give her hugged but she vanished beneath me before whispering " I Hate You daddy"

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?

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.

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.

Mimi at Sheridan School by Anne Pence Davis

Sunday-School Success by Amos R. Wells

The "Hard Knocks" Ralph Parlette talks about are also termed "bumps" in this collection of lessons life presents us. He says that when life bumps up against us and we learn the lesson, we do not have to endure it again. We move past it and use the experience as our teacher from which we expand our conscious appraisal of the situations we encounter. Because we are independent negotiators of the events that occur, we are often tempted by other attractive paths that lead us into ease and pleasure. If we move upwardly in our way of thinking about the future and do not succumb to instant gratification, we can change unhappiness to happiness, weakness to strength, anxiety to moral conviction, and ignorance to awareness. As we begin to understand things by our own sacrifice and travail, we discover immeasurable distances above us that we can include in our journey. We are able to rise over any obstacle or setback because we learn to truly see and hear. Parlette reminds us that it is not possible to purchase education or security. We cannot buy a prodigious intelligence. Our mind is only able to become great when it is a subordinate to more important issues in our life. As we develop more helpful attributes, our worries grow smaller. We have stationed ourselves to see from a different, more encompassing perspective. And even though we continue to do our best, out of nowhere a calamity descends upon us and breaks our heart. Our plans and schemes are ruined, and there is nothing to live for. But after this personal demolition and the psychological trash is swept away, honorable purposes are suddenly visible, and we are capable of more instruction and schooling in The University of Hard Knocks, the only college worth this excellent endorsement.

I gasped awake, my throat burning. Downstairs, Mom shrieked at Dad about 'Emily' again, their usual symphony of bitterness. I was used to it, used to being Mom' s property, something she controlled, ever since she trapped Dad with a fake pregnancy years ago. She never forgave him Emily, and she never forgave me for being his daughter. But this morning, a chilling memory, vivid as real life, clung to me: peanuts, my throat closing, Mom just watching. A taste of death. It wasn't a dream. It was a premonition, my own death at her hands, if I didn't act. The thought alone sent shivers down my spine. This wasn't just a difficult mother; I saw her clearly for the first time: a monster. My heart hammered, a desperate drumbeat, as every sugary word, every controlling glance, every public humiliation she inflicted felt like a suffocating vice. Dad, weak and defeated, could only offer whispered apologies, seeing my suffering but perpetually helpless. I wouldn't be her victim anymore. I wouldn't end up on that kitchen floor, struggling for breath while she calmly watched. Not this time. My resolve hardened into something cold and sharp, a desperate decision: I had to get out, and I had to take Dad with me.