"Carla! Are you done packing yet?" Carla Parker’s mom yelled up the stairs. “Yep. I’m coming down now.” she yelled back. Actually Carla was lying on her bed, looking up at her faded white ceiling. She hadn’t event started packing yet. In fact all Carla could think about was her dad. He was in Iraq right now, fighting in the war. And Carla is staying with her grandma in some island off Florida. The island is as beautiful as a rose petal of course, but unless you are a visitor to someone living and breathing there, you’re not allowed. And to be able to live and breathe there then you have to be at least 70 or older and filthy rich. Carla’s mom’s call interrupted her thoughts. “Get down here! I have to take you to the airport!” Carla jumped up and threw all her belongings into the 3 suitcases her mom purchased for the trip. Before she left she took one last look in the mirror.
She didn’t exactly like what she saw. Too bad she couldn’t do anything about it.

Carla went downstairs to see her mom at the front door in her coat. “Come on, let’s get this over with”, Carla said relentlessly. Her mom frowned. “I’m counting on you Carla, to take care of your grandmother.” said Carla’s mom. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever,” Carla replied sourly. “Don’t be fresh.” That was probably her mom’s favorite saying. Carla ran outside to the forest green Hummer that was parked awkwardly in the rock driveway. Carla jumped into the passenger seat. When what seemed like forever, Carla’s mom finally climbed into the car. She slowly put the key into the ignition and started the car. She drove to the airport.
“Come here sweetie! Give grandma a hug. I’ve been counting the minutes until you got here.” Carla’s ancient grandmother gushed. “Hey grandma.” she replied half-heartedly. “Come, come. How was the flight?” She asked. Carla’s grandma was sort of a jabber mouth. “Well, I realize you haven’t been here for a while so I’ll give you a tour.” she said slowly. “O.K.” Carla’s grandma gave her a very boring tour and then, she made Carla get into a bathing suit and try the crystal clear window of water outside her door. The water was warm and pretty. When Carla was as wrinkled as a prune, she decided to head back inside when she saw a couple walking on the beach. But it wasn’t your usual couple. They were both about 16, Carla’s age, but the girl was wearing high heels and a suit, (not usual beach attire.) And the man was wearing a black suit, dress shoes, a white shirt, a red tie, his hair slicked back and a Bluetooth on his right ear. Carla guess they could be coming home from work, but there are two things wrong with that. One, they should have gone home to change before coming to the beach and two, they are definitely not 70 or older.
The next day Carla was back on the beach and so was the couple. Carla get up enough nerve to go over and talk to them. “Hi” she said politely. “Hello” they said simultaneously in a robotic tone. “Are you a new addition to this beautiful island?” they asked. “Ummmm, sort of…” Carla replied to the weird question. “What do you mean sort of?” the woman asked. “Well I come here sometimes but I live in San Francisco.” Carla answered. “What is San Francisco?” Ok, something must be wrong with these people. They must be living under a rock. Carla doesn’t reply because she am thinks it might be a joke. Carla changes the subject. “So what are your names?” she asks awkwardly. But before they could answer, there was a flash of light and all I could see was black.