Young Writers discussion
note: This topic has been closed to new comments.
Archives
>
The first chapter in the book your writing
wow! that was good! 5/5!
Plz Comment!Prologue
The man is short and pale, though his eyes are black, and his hair is blond. In fact, the closer you look at his eyes, the more it appears as though they are all pupil and no iris. This is not uncommon for a man like him.
But more on that later.
He has an unmistakable scent, one that screams “Evil!”. I turn my head to try and escape the smell, only to get another whiff as he passes behind me, pale hands clasped behind his back. I look up from the bloodstained floor and see that he’s clutching a gun in his hands. I cock my head. It’s a small gun, and he’s doing a very good job of hiding it, though it’s still visible from this angle.
“You won’t kill me,” I whisper. The words roll off my tongue like a raindrop off a leaf.
“Oh really?” he replies.
I make eye contact with him, my gaze steady. “Yes,”
He knocks me in the temple with the gun. It makes a loud popping noise when it connects with my skull.
Silence. He lets out a sigh that most people wouldn’t be able to hear.
I recover quickly, regaining eye contact. “You could’ve shot me,”
“Shut up,” he snaps.
I stare at the blood running down my arms. “Why did you do it?”
“I said shut up!” the man booms. My ears ring.
“Why did you do it?” I repeat, throwing more power into my words. The man appears shocked, like he’s just realized that I have the power to speak above a whisper.
And now it’s his turn to remain quiet. “I did it because…” he trails off. “Because I love you. Because I did love you. While you were still… you.”
He looks at me. This is not the answer I had expected, and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing despite myself.
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice shaking. I can’t make eye contact: I’m staring at my bloody arms again.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,”
“Tell me, or I’ll make you tell me,”
“No.”
When he says that, pure rage fills me inch by inch. And slowly, I feel the ropes that bind me to the chair loosen and suddenly I’m free. I don’t know how I did it.
All I know is I’m unbound and that the door is to my left.
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...I posted Chapter 1 earlier on this topic, but this is the full story. I'm working on Chapter 8 right now, and I'm planning to make this into a triology. Please comment!
(Here's the brief summary:
Things are never as they seem. When four junior high kids discover powers they never knew about and a world that only limited people can see, they find themselves in peril to save the world from unknown danger.)
Mod
Mod
The Puzzle of My Life
Chapter One: The Worst News Comes at Four in the Morning
When I was born, and throughout my life, I’ve only ever known my dad. A week after I was born my mother left us, said she couldn’t handle a child. So my dad had to act as both a father and a mother to me.
For thirteen and a half years I’ve been wondering where my mother was. I’ve looked her up on the internet, but haven’t found her. I’ve hope she would come find me someday, at least let me know who she is, her real reason for abandoning us.
She never came.
So, I was torn even more when the officer told me that I was moving in with my twenty-eight year old baby sitter. I wouldn’t exactly call her a baby sitter, though. She just sits with me and takes me where I need to while my dad’s gone for long lengths of time. I’m just glad I like her, I don’t know what would happen if I didn’t.
I had been sleeping, like I should have been. I’m also happy that I had gone to sleep early that night, instead of my usual one in the morning. My sitter, Ellen was at her boyfriend’s house for the night, so I had the house to myself.
It was almost four in the morning when I heard the doorbell ring. At first I couldn’t figure out where the ringing was coming from, then I heard it again, and quickly got up to check the door.
I was a little surprised to see a police officer there. Not wanting him to get mad at me, I opened the door, smiling. “ Hi, can I help you with anything?”
“ No, just came here to tell you something, if you are Ellen Sommers.”
I looked at him weirdly. “ I’m not Ellen. She’s my sitter, and is with her boyfriend. I’m Karina Madison.”
“ Oh, in a way even better. It might be easier to tell you now. Is it okay that I come in and sit?” He looked very sympathetic, but I couldn’t think of why.
“Sure, come in, sit down, the living room is just up the stairs, first door on the left. I’ll be right with you. Is there anything you might want to drink?”
“ Do you have any orange juice? If not I’m okay, thanks.” I nodded again and scurried into the kitchen. I needed a couple minutes to think before he told me whatever he needed to tell me. Then again I’d probably end up thinking of horrible things that could have happened to a loved one. That’s most likely what he was going to tell me.
Not wanting to let that happen, believe me when I say I have a wild imagination, I quickly poured his orange juice and almost ran out of the kitchen.
When I got into the living room, I saw him sitting on the couch. He’d taken his shoes off at the door, and I was thankful for that. I wanted to keep the house clean, and didn’t like when people dirtied it, unless it was me.
I sat on the chair by him and handed him the glass of orange juice. He took a sip, then looked at me. “ Thank you, I appreciate it. I don’t get how you are acting so mature at thirteen. Who taught you your manners? Your mom?”
I almost started crying. My mother was a very sensitive subject. “ My mom left us when I was only a week old. I’ve never seen her since. It was my dad that taught me, and it’s only common sense to treat a police officer with respect. Why did you need to talk to Ellen?”
“ Your dad said that he wants her to be your legal guardian if anything was to happen to him. You are living with her, now. Your dad was killed this morning by a fire on the plane he was taking back over here. We don’t know how it happened, though.” I could tell he was going to say more, but I didn’t let him. It was hard to. My dad dead? Why? I put my head in my hands and almost cried.
I say almost because I didn’t, but I wanted to. It’s not that I didn’t have any more tears, I’m just incredibly heartless. I’m unable to cry when other people are. You’d think that with this happening, I’d be unable to stop, but...I guess not. I was so frustrated with myself, I wanted to cry even more.
The police officer looked at me strangely. “ Why aren’t you crying? I mean, this is your father dead.”
“ I know,” I said nodding. “ My friends say that I’m heartless. It is incredibly hard for me to cry over something, even when it’s this.” I laughed humorlessly. “ I know, this is weird. Sometimes it’s just irritating.”
That’s when they just came pouring out. At first I was surprised, then I just let them come out. The officer had me sit next to him and tried to comfort me, still having a weird expression on his face.
I sat there crying for the next fifteen minutes, but suddenly I couldn’t cry anymore. I wasn’t as shocked as the officer, I wasn’t shocked at all. This was completely normal for me.
I wiped my eyes quickly, almost mad that I’d cried in front of someone. I sat back in my chair and grabbed the phone. Quickly I dialed Ellen’s cell phone number. She’d probably get mad at me for interrupting whatever her and her boyfriend were doing, but oh, well. There’s no way she can stay mad at me once I tell her the news.
“ Hi, Karina. Why are you calling me at four thirty in the morning?” She didn’t sound upset. At least like she wasn’t going to start yelling at me.
“ Something happened to Dad. While he was on his way back home him plane caught on fire. It seems like everyone, including him, was killed. They haven’t found what started it yet.” Ellen was crying before I was done talking. She acts like she’s tough, but when something like this happens, it’s hard for her to stop crying.
“ Thanks for calling me,” she said between sobs. “ I’ll be at your house soon.”
“ Bye,” I said, then hung up the phone. “ Do we know when the funeral is?” I asked. I was a little scared. What would happen to me? I mean, I know what will happen to me, I’ll be staying with Ellen. It’s just upsetting that both parents are now out of my life. First my mother abandons me, then my dad is killed. I’m just glad I have Ellen. I don’t know what I would do without her.
“ No, not the exact time. I do know where it is, the local cemetery over by the bakery. Again, I don’t know for sure, but it should be in the next few days.” I nodded. He stood and said, “ Thank you for the drink, and I’m sorry for your loss. My luck to you.”
I nodded. “ Thank you for telling me.” I smiled sincerely and walked him to the door. When he left I returned to the living room. I lay down on the couch and start to think about my dad. Then I start to panic. What will I do without him? It would probably be better if I had a mom that actually cared about me, but I don’t. Again, I’m just glad that I do have Ellen.
That’s when she arrived at the house. She was still crying, but once she saw that I was in the living room, she quickly wiped her tears and tried to act strong in front of me. “ You know what, Karina? You really are heartless. This is your dad we’re talking about, dead. Did you cry at all since the police officer told you about the accident?”
“ For a little while, but not long. I’m mad at myself for it.” I paused for a moment, thinking about what I should say. “ Though, now that Dad’s gone, what am I going to do? I mean, I know I have you, but it’s just going to be too weird not having him along, too.” I sighed and said, “ It doesn’t help that my mother abandoned me. I seriously wonder what she would say if she heard about Dad’s death. I doubt she’d care at all.”
I know Ellen agreed with me, but she wouldn’t admit it. She wasn’t at all happy that my mom did that to us, but she always tried to stop me from getting mad at her. I’d always insist that she’d laugh if one of us died, she’d probably dance on our graves, but Ellen would reply with a no. She’d care deeply about what happened to us, just wasn’t ready for a kid. I asked her why did she even bother to have one, then. Ellen would shrug and try to go back to what she had been doing. I knew that she was thinking about that, too.
“ The officer said that I’m living with you now. Would you like to live here, or do I have to move into your house?”
She shrugged and said, “ The house is really Brad’s, so I can move in with you. He’ll most likely get mad and want to move in, too. Can he?”
I looked at her, mentally saying, ‘ are you kidding me?’ She sighed again when she realized what I wasn’t saying.
“ Fine, I won’t let him. He’s kind, you’d like him.” The thing was, I’d already met him. I didn’t like him the second I saw him. After spending the evening with him and Ellen, I disliked him even more.
I rolled my eyes at her and said, “ Sure.” Then I started thinking about why I was acting so happy and goofing around when my dad had just been killed. I mentally kicked myself, then walked down stairs.
Ellen followed me and made us breakfast. We had cereal and iced tea, then I got dressed. Since I was so depressed, I wore a black tank top over a white tank top and a pair of black sweatpants. My hair was back in a messy bun; I didn’t want it in my face.
I could tell that Ellen was feeling the same way. When she was back with her things, she could barely carry them inside. Once they were inside, she ran into the guest bedroom and started crying. I went in and checked on her and she was curled up on the bed, her face covered with her hands.
It made me mad that I couldn’t cry. My dad was dead, my dad! Ellen, just a friend of his, was bawling so much that I was surprised she hadn’t already run out of tears. Yet here I am, his thirteen year old daughter, and I’ve barely shed a tear. It was unbelievable.
Around noon my aunt Linda called us. She said that the funeral was in three days, on a Wednesday, and started at nine. She was also crying, which made me all the more upset. She questioned me and I told that she should know me enough to not expect any more. I hung up.
I really wished I didn’t have to go to the funeral, but knew that everyone expected me to. I was after all his daughter. I guess I’ll just have to put up with people staring at me in shock.
Chapter One: The Worst News Comes at Four in the Morning
When I was born, and throughout my life, I’ve only ever known my dad. A week after I was born my mother left us, said she couldn’t handle a child. So my dad had to act as both a father and a mother to me.
For thirteen and a half years I’ve been wondering where my mother was. I’ve looked her up on the internet, but haven’t found her. I’ve hope she would come find me someday, at least let me know who she is, her real reason for abandoning us.
She never came.
So, I was torn even more when the officer told me that I was moving in with my twenty-eight year old baby sitter. I wouldn’t exactly call her a baby sitter, though. She just sits with me and takes me where I need to while my dad’s gone for long lengths of time. I’m just glad I like her, I don’t know what would happen if I didn’t.
I had been sleeping, like I should have been. I’m also happy that I had gone to sleep early that night, instead of my usual one in the morning. My sitter, Ellen was at her boyfriend’s house for the night, so I had the house to myself.
It was almost four in the morning when I heard the doorbell ring. At first I couldn’t figure out where the ringing was coming from, then I heard it again, and quickly got up to check the door.
I was a little surprised to see a police officer there. Not wanting him to get mad at me, I opened the door, smiling. “ Hi, can I help you with anything?”
“ No, just came here to tell you something, if you are Ellen Sommers.”
I looked at him weirdly. “ I’m not Ellen. She’s my sitter, and is with her boyfriend. I’m Karina Madison.”
“ Oh, in a way even better. It might be easier to tell you now. Is it okay that I come in and sit?” He looked very sympathetic, but I couldn’t think of why.
“Sure, come in, sit down, the living room is just up the stairs, first door on the left. I’ll be right with you. Is there anything you might want to drink?”
“ Do you have any orange juice? If not I’m okay, thanks.” I nodded again and scurried into the kitchen. I needed a couple minutes to think before he told me whatever he needed to tell me. Then again I’d probably end up thinking of horrible things that could have happened to a loved one. That’s most likely what he was going to tell me.
Not wanting to let that happen, believe me when I say I have a wild imagination, I quickly poured his orange juice and almost ran out of the kitchen.
When I got into the living room, I saw him sitting on the couch. He’d taken his shoes off at the door, and I was thankful for that. I wanted to keep the house clean, and didn’t like when people dirtied it, unless it was me.
I sat on the chair by him and handed him the glass of orange juice. He took a sip, then looked at me. “ Thank you, I appreciate it. I don’t get how you are acting so mature at thirteen. Who taught you your manners? Your mom?”
I almost started crying. My mother was a very sensitive subject. “ My mom left us when I was only a week old. I’ve never seen her since. It was my dad that taught me, and it’s only common sense to treat a police officer with respect. Why did you need to talk to Ellen?”
“ Your dad said that he wants her to be your legal guardian if anything was to happen to him. You are living with her, now. Your dad was killed this morning by a fire on the plane he was taking back over here. We don’t know how it happened, though.” I could tell he was going to say more, but I didn’t let him. It was hard to. My dad dead? Why? I put my head in my hands and almost cried.
I say almost because I didn’t, but I wanted to. It’s not that I didn’t have any more tears, I’m just incredibly heartless. I’m unable to cry when other people are. You’d think that with this happening, I’d be unable to stop, but...I guess not. I was so frustrated with myself, I wanted to cry even more.
The police officer looked at me strangely. “ Why aren’t you crying? I mean, this is your father dead.”
“ I know,” I said nodding. “ My friends say that I’m heartless. It is incredibly hard for me to cry over something, even when it’s this.” I laughed humorlessly. “ I know, this is weird. Sometimes it’s just irritating.”
That’s when they just came pouring out. At first I was surprised, then I just let them come out. The officer had me sit next to him and tried to comfort me, still having a weird expression on his face.
I sat there crying for the next fifteen minutes, but suddenly I couldn’t cry anymore. I wasn’t as shocked as the officer, I wasn’t shocked at all. This was completely normal for me.
I wiped my eyes quickly, almost mad that I’d cried in front of someone. I sat back in my chair and grabbed the phone. Quickly I dialed Ellen’s cell phone number. She’d probably get mad at me for interrupting whatever her and her boyfriend were doing, but oh, well. There’s no way she can stay mad at me once I tell her the news.
“ Hi, Karina. Why are you calling me at four thirty in the morning?” She didn’t sound upset. At least like she wasn’t going to start yelling at me.
“ Something happened to Dad. While he was on his way back home him plane caught on fire. It seems like everyone, including him, was killed. They haven’t found what started it yet.” Ellen was crying before I was done talking. She acts like she’s tough, but when something like this happens, it’s hard for her to stop crying.
“ Thanks for calling me,” she said between sobs. “ I’ll be at your house soon.”
“ Bye,” I said, then hung up the phone. “ Do we know when the funeral is?” I asked. I was a little scared. What would happen to me? I mean, I know what will happen to me, I’ll be staying with Ellen. It’s just upsetting that both parents are now out of my life. First my mother abandons me, then my dad is killed. I’m just glad I have Ellen. I don’t know what I would do without her.
“ No, not the exact time. I do know where it is, the local cemetery over by the bakery. Again, I don’t know for sure, but it should be in the next few days.” I nodded. He stood and said, “ Thank you for the drink, and I’m sorry for your loss. My luck to you.”
I nodded. “ Thank you for telling me.” I smiled sincerely and walked him to the door. When he left I returned to the living room. I lay down on the couch and start to think about my dad. Then I start to panic. What will I do without him? It would probably be better if I had a mom that actually cared about me, but I don’t. Again, I’m just glad that I do have Ellen.
That’s when she arrived at the house. She was still crying, but once she saw that I was in the living room, she quickly wiped her tears and tried to act strong in front of me. “ You know what, Karina? You really are heartless. This is your dad we’re talking about, dead. Did you cry at all since the police officer told you about the accident?”
“ For a little while, but not long. I’m mad at myself for it.” I paused for a moment, thinking about what I should say. “ Though, now that Dad’s gone, what am I going to do? I mean, I know I have you, but it’s just going to be too weird not having him along, too.” I sighed and said, “ It doesn’t help that my mother abandoned me. I seriously wonder what she would say if she heard about Dad’s death. I doubt she’d care at all.”
I know Ellen agreed with me, but she wouldn’t admit it. She wasn’t at all happy that my mom did that to us, but she always tried to stop me from getting mad at her. I’d always insist that she’d laugh if one of us died, she’d probably dance on our graves, but Ellen would reply with a no. She’d care deeply about what happened to us, just wasn’t ready for a kid. I asked her why did she even bother to have one, then. Ellen would shrug and try to go back to what she had been doing. I knew that she was thinking about that, too.
“ The officer said that I’m living with you now. Would you like to live here, or do I have to move into your house?”
She shrugged and said, “ The house is really Brad’s, so I can move in with you. He’ll most likely get mad and want to move in, too. Can he?”
I looked at her, mentally saying, ‘ are you kidding me?’ She sighed again when she realized what I wasn’t saying.
“ Fine, I won’t let him. He’s kind, you’d like him.” The thing was, I’d already met him. I didn’t like him the second I saw him. After spending the evening with him and Ellen, I disliked him even more.
I rolled my eyes at her and said, “ Sure.” Then I started thinking about why I was acting so happy and goofing around when my dad had just been killed. I mentally kicked myself, then walked down stairs.
Ellen followed me and made us breakfast. We had cereal and iced tea, then I got dressed. Since I was so depressed, I wore a black tank top over a white tank top and a pair of black sweatpants. My hair was back in a messy bun; I didn’t want it in my face.
I could tell that Ellen was feeling the same way. When she was back with her things, she could barely carry them inside. Once they were inside, she ran into the guest bedroom and started crying. I went in and checked on her and she was curled up on the bed, her face covered with her hands.
It made me mad that I couldn’t cry. My dad was dead, my dad! Ellen, just a friend of his, was bawling so much that I was surprised she hadn’t already run out of tears. Yet here I am, his thirteen year old daughter, and I’ve barely shed a tear. It was unbelievable.
Around noon my aunt Linda called us. She said that the funeral was in three days, on a Wednesday, and started at nine. She was also crying, which made me all the more upset. She questioned me and I told that she should know me enough to not expect any more. I hung up.
I really wished I didn’t have to go to the funeral, but knew that everyone expected me to. I was after all his daughter. I guess I’ll just have to put up with people staring at me in shock.
I'm debating on whether or not to continue writing, and I'd like to know some feedback. Comments/critiques are welcome :) I have some titles for my book, but I can't choose one. Just comment and let me know which you think fits best. Thanks!
1. Falling From Grace
2. All The Answers
3. Breaking Through
Chapter One
“We’re moving.” My parents said in unison.
The worst words anyone in their senior year of high school could possibly hear. Life finally was starting to make sense. I’d gained friendships, excelled in school, and had a feel of what I wanted to do when I graduated. But, with their impeccable timing, my parents decided to screw all of that success up.
“What?” I asked with a confused look.
“We’re moving.” My dad replied.
“No, I get that. I mean, why? Where?” I was becoming desperate for answers.
“Your dad’s been offered a job promotion. It would give us a lot more money than what he’s making now, so we’ve decided it’d be best for the whole family if he took this opportunity. Just think of how it’d help you with college!” she said, a little too enthusiastically. But then again, that’s my mother. The rock of the family. The one who, despite of her own difficulties, encouraged us to have goals and dreams. The one who was now ruining chances of mine ever coming true.
“Sweet, more dough!” my twelve-year-old brother Noah interjected. Leave it to him to care only about materialistic crap.
“Yeah, sweet.” I mocked.
“Grace, stop. We’re trying to have a mature conversation here. I really think you guys need a break from Lyndon. Plus, we need the money. What with college tuition and your mom’s hospital bills, we’re going broke. And besides, New Haven isn’t that far from Vermont. You could still see your friends.” My father said.
I felt the pit of my stomach fall. Just a little bit, but enough to notice. “Ok, sorry.”
“It’s ok. Now, we have to be out of here by October 15th, so I suggest you start packing now. Just grab some boxes from the garage and start labeling your stuff. I need everything valuable bubble-wrapped, and put everything else…”, my dad droned on.
I quit listening to him prattle about boxing things correctly. The control-freak, perfectionist side of him was emerging, and it wasn’t my favorite version of him. I actually preferred when he was a carefree, happy-go-lucky guy that always made me laugh. But since mom’s diagnosis last spring, and the expensive chemo that came with it, he lost that special spark of fun.
As I walked into my room, I realized how fast things were changing. Even if we weren’t moving, I would have been leaving in a few short months anyway. I hadn’t planned on going to college anywhere too far off, but lately my family had been tearing away at the patience I spent many years to build. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. When did everything suddenly get so confusing?
The next few days were a blur. Telling my friends goodbye would be the hardest part of the move for me. I’d known Alison and Danny since 4th grade, and it’s hard to find a time when we weren’t together. Birthday parties, school games, summer camps, and the list goes on.
When I walked through the door to my homeroom class, like every other day, Danny and Alison were waiting for me.
“Hey, there you are! Why are you so late?” Alison said with her eyes, covered in eyeliner, bulging from impatience.
“I’m not that late. It’s like, 3 minutes later than normal.” I replied.
Danny leaned in, “Well, it’s weird, especially coming from Ms. Valedictorian.”
I glared at him. “Stop calling me that, you don’t even know for sure. Not until next week anyways.”
He gave me this look of disbelief. “Mmhmm, sure. Like you wouldn’t be a shoo-in for it. You have, like a 5.0, and you’re student body president.”
A wave of self-accomplishment rolled over me. It hadn’t been easy, but all of those things were true. Well, except for the 5.0 part, but it was pretty darn close.
“Like that’s even possible.” I whispered as Mr. Greenberg walked in the room. A sudden hush fell over the students. No one liked Mr. Greenberg, and I completely understood why. With his bad comb-over, 80’s era glasses, and nasally voice, who could stand to be around him? Of course, of all the teachers at Lyndon High, I got stuck with him for homeroom. Being the top student of my grade, naturally, he loved me. He’d always pull me aside after class and give me “pointers” on how to write well-thought out college application essays. I never really listened to any of them.
“Ok, class. Settle down. I have a few announcements regarding the seniors. ‘All seniors are to report to the auditorium today after school for a very important meeting concerning graduation.’” He read from the paper.
Danny groaned. “Lovely, I have practice right after school.” Danny was on the varsity football team, quarterback. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Why in the world would a quarterback hang around a nerd and a semi-gothic art freak? Who knows? We all just sort of clicked in elementary school, and once high school came around and we found our true selves, we’d been through too much together to just ditch each other.
“Guess you’ll just have to miss it. I, on the other hand, have a very important student council meeting that is mandatory. So, you guys are just going to have to tell me what goes on later.” I said proudly.
“Umm, I don’t think so. If Danny has to miss football and I have to miss the art show, then you’re missing your precious student council.” Alison replied.
I looked at both of them. They looked pretty determined to take me on this one. “Fine, you’re going to have to tell Mrs. James why I couldn’t make it to the meeting. I’m not dealing with her when she’s angry.”
Danny raised an eyebrow. “And in return?”
“Yeah, what do we get out of it?” Alison asked.
“The satisfaction of winning?” I said, hopeful.
Alison gave me one of her famous glares.
“Ok, fine. I’ll finish both of your essays for English. How’s that?” I bargained.
“Done. I hate writing.” Danny responded.
Alison’s armor faded. “Ok, fine. It’ll give me more time for my sculpture.”
The bell rang, sharp and shrill. “Ok, I’ll see you guys later.”
As I was walking to my first class of the day, math, I noticed my father in the hallway by the main office. My brother was with him, crying. The look on his face said it all. Something happened. Something bad, and I really didn’t want to know about it. Not right now.
I walked up to them. That’s when I noticed my father’s tears. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“It’s mom, Gracie. There was an accident.” My dad said softly.
message 59:
by
Maria [the clockwork creeps on useless lives], Butts butts
(new)
![Maria [the clockwork creeps on useless lives] (mariachhile) | 8772 comments](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1322709957p1/2412416.jpg)
Mod
WRITE MORE. there's no question about it, this is awesome I got hooked right away and couldn't stop. I winded how she'll cope with moving, and what's wrong with her mom. I absolutely live the characters, they're round and full already, and as friends aren't all perfect with each other, just like in real life. The only thing that was a little cliche was the goth-nerd-football guy thingy. Anyway, I repeat myself: I'm attached and I need to read more.
Oh crap that all got messed up.
Maria-Me Myself and My Writing wrote: "more! My epic review really just didn't save? Anyway, here's a muchshorter version, because I don't have the patience to redo it:WRITE MORE. there's no question about it, this is awesome I got ho..."
aww thanks! i really appreciate it :) but i do plan to write more so i'll keep you posted on this story haha and it sucks that your longer post didnt get saved! lol
message 61:
by
Maria [the clockwork creeps on useless lives], Butts butts
(new)
Mod
Maria-Me Myself and My Writing wrote: "I'm 'sleep drunk' I write the best story reviews at this time ( oh my I just realized it's already two in the morning) :)"haha it's 3 where i'm at right now, and i have to wake up at 9 so i think i've got it worse hahaha
message 63:
by
Maria [the clockwork creeps on useless lives], Butts butts
(new)
Mod
Okay. So. New project until I can get more reviews on the unfinished one. yay.Disclaimer: Based off of the song Beautiful Thieves by AFI. blah blah blah.
My dear there is no danger,
Can’t you see they turn blind eyes,
To we swift and spotlight strangers?
Before the rush is over,
We will be revered again,
While the victims still recover,
This is the prologue to a rather depressing path of events. A path in which I warn you of them. If you, reader, do not wish to hear such events, leave now, and never return. You have been warned.
You must be wondering what—or rather, who—I am rambling on about, and all shall be made clear in due time.
I shall start with my name. I am Madeline Clark. I am completely average. I have sandy-colored hair, simple green eyes, and slightly pale skin. My grades are straight ‘B’s’. There is nothing “different” or “abnormal” about me, except that I don’t usually speak to others unless I need to. My “predicament” isn’t unheard of; it runs in my family, to be exact.
Now that you know that much, I will begin.
He fooled me from the moment he spoke to me. “I can help you,” he had told me one day. Of course, being the fool that I am, I was drawn in at the thought of someone even thinking of me. And he planned it so well. I got a D- on a test. He peeked and saw the red ‘D’ on my paper. His placid, ice blue eyes bore into my simple green, and I was fascinated by them. Perhaps I was a bit too fascinated. They blinded me from the danger.
Oh, I apologize. I haven’t given you his name. His name was Connor. Connor Smith. Seemingly average. Seemingly innocent. Seemingly caring.
Connor shared with me his history (or at least, the history that I had fallen for). He told me about how he was the least noticed of his brothers. He, being the youngest of four, had gotten straight A’s in an attempt to obtain the slightest bit of respect. As he went on, I felt myself attracted to him. I also felt pity for him at the time. Who wouldn’t?
“I respect you,” I had murmured. “You helped me, after all.”
“Oh that? It was nothing.” Connor laughed. Such a sweet sound, especially from such a monster.
You may think me of such a fool. I have stated it already. You would have been swayed too, if you had been in my place. I should have been wary, especially after hearing what I heard. But I didn’t want to believe what was happening. He still amazes me. I still love him.
“…Shame she has to go,” Connor was saying.
“Shame?” another scoffed. “Connor, how many times has this happened?”
“True.”
Mod
The last thing I want is your pity, Emily. I don't want you to feel sorry for me.
Don't expect me to fall down on my knees and cry. I'm not going to barf out all my feelings and leave them in an enormous heap in front of you. And you know why? Because I know you'd love that. You'd love to think that you made me who I am. You'd just glow with pride, if I told you the truth.
Because the truth is, Emily, you made me like this.
You're the reason I hate myself. You're the reason why my life is so damn screwed up. You're the reason for the scars, all the damage both inside and out. You're the one who chipped away at me, piece by piece, until you sculpted me into what you wanted me to be, until you left me the ruin that I've become.
But you? Your perfect little world is still intact. All the blame fell on me, and you remained the angel, the martyr, the saint – even though everything was your fault.
No. Don't be sorry. I'm not trying to squeeze an apology out of you. I sure as hell am never going to forgive you, so don't even try.
But I know you won't try. For once, you're going to be quiet, and I'm going to do all the talking. I'm going to tell you the truth. I'm going to tell you that I know every last thing about you, probably more than you know about yourself.
… That is, I'm going to tell you as soon as I find you.
You know, I haven't seen your face in over a year. It's been that long, since my mom decided it was time to pack up everything we owned and move to the city. I always thought it was the other way around, that people leave the crowded streets to live in the quiet suburbia. But, no. We moved from our nice little house to a crappy and puny apartment.
I've always thought that my mom did it on purpose. I think she was trying to hide me, and we both know who she was trying to hide me from. My mom was hoping that she and I would get lost in the crowds, in the towering buildings, in the smoky air, in the thousands of blurry faces.
I never went back. I never even called you or anything, not even once. But of course, you know that, Emily. And you know why. You know why I couldn't face you again, why I couldn't face anyone.
But that's about to change. I've been itching to go back, ever since I got the phone call a month ago. I knew, from that day, that I'd have to go back – to home, to everyone I ever knew, to you. The need has been hovering over my thoughts like a storm cloud. I'm not going to rest until I face my fears again.
So this morning – first day of summer vacation, the limbo between junior and senior year – I got up and got dressed at dawn. I moved through the house with calculated footsteps, making no sound. I took all the money from the shoebox under my bed. I left a note for my mom, even though I didn't need to write one. She would have been able to guess where I had gone, easily enough.
Now I'm standing in the subway, wondering what I look like to the people around me. I guess I just look like another teenage girl waiting for the train. I probably look like I'm trying to hide from someone, the way I have my hands stuffed into the front pocket of my sweatshirt and my hood pulled almost over my eyes. Why else would I be wearing so much in the summer heat?
I guess I am trying to hide, in a way. I can't risk that anyone will recognize me, back at home.
You know, I've been trying to push away the memories for what feels like forever. Now that I'm allowing them to come back, it doesn't feel like it's been that long. It feels like yesterday, we were that invincible pair of friends: Emily and Mia. We had everything under control. We were up in the clouds, looking down at the pitiful world beneath us. Everyone worshipped us.
… Then it all exploded in our faces.
Everyone turned against me, because of you. You, who claimed to be my best friend, did nothing to stop it. And I covered for you. I didn't tell them the truth.
Oh, don't worry. I'm still not going to tell anyone. You get to stay up there on your shining pedestal of immortality forever.
So you'd better be happy, Emily. God, I hope you're happy.
((Here's a linky if you wish to read/comment more: http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/5...))
message 66:
by
Maria [the clockwork creeps on useless lives], Butts butts
(new)
Mod
Jordan wrote: "This is the first chapter of The Long Way(working title)June 15, 2020
Ring! My alarm clock rang through my little flat. I groaned and slapped the snooze button. I sat up and looked at the ..."
Like your fist chapter its really great.
I'm pretty nervous 'cause this it the first thing i've posted on Goodreads so... *gulp* It's the first chapter in what i hope will be a full length novel called Soul Searching.It's about a secret organization, located underground,
that cares for all of the souls in the world, basically just getting them from one life to the next.
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...
Go read, please!
♥ Brigid ♥ wrote: "Here is the first chapter of the story I'm (mostly) working on, Unraveling. Yaaay. :)The last thing I want is your pity, Emily. I don't want you to feel sorry for me.
Don't expect me to fall dow..."
I kept thinking you were talking to me. XD
This is from one of my novels Forever Young-Chapter One
I lied on my bed pretending to sleep staring at my alarm clock. The green digits 3:56 a.m. mocked me. Finally I heard the door at the far end of the hallway slam closed. I was up instantly.
I grabbed my prepacked black backpack from my closet and peeked out the crack of my doorway to make sure everyone was in their rooms. All the doors were shut so I slowly crept my way to my brother Jimmy's room.
I slowly opened the door avoiding stepping on the floorboard that always squeaked. Sure enough Jimmy was passed out drunk on his bed. I considered taking the Sharpie from his nihgtstand and drawing on his face, but decided against it. I needed to focus. No longer needing to keep quiet since a full blown marching band could come in here and still wouldn't wake Jimmy up, I opened his bedroom window and climbed out.
The black metal staircase that led from Jimmy's window to the front porch was flimsy so I threw my backpack to the ground while I carefully maneuvered myself down. I grabbed my backpack off the ground and cut through my backyard. I've been on this route many times before.
Through my backyard, throught he forest, through the back streets of the Harbor, and soon enough I'll come across my hideaway. It's a kind of place you'd have to know about to get there; you don't just come across it. I heard about the place at one of the meetings. That was back when I actually still went to the meetings. We lost that peice of land long before Paul was in leadership. The people who remember it still haven't forgotten about it. And I can see why.
It's basically a park, but more than that. It stretches for about 3 miles and it's full of forgotten ponds surrounded by weeping willow trees, small stone bridges, and you can tell by the look of it, that it's full of old secrets. The first time I came here was about 2 years ago. I've wanted to escape from my household for awhile, for years actually. The only thing was I've never had anywhere to go. Everyone in town knows my family, therefor are always on me sucking up. I never have time to myself.
I can't go hangout on the Harbor side since that part of land is owned by the Siorraidh, and them finding me walking their streets would be very bad for me and my family. I can't go to the downtown part of the city since the Demarcos own that. The territorial wars give me very few options for hangout spots away from my family. The park is the only place where no one goes to, which is why it's perfect for me to escape to. The only problem is I have to go through the Harbor to get there, but cutting through the back alleys isn't that bad as long as I keep in the shadows and bring an extra pair of clothes.
I finally arrived. I passed by the first stone bridge, but then I stopped. Something was off. The normally peaceful getaway was now filled with splashes and laughter. I paused to look out at one of the nearby ponds. My body froze when I saw Nolan O' Cleiregh. This was not good. Finnegan Rue's second in command has a reputation well known in my community and crossing paths with him gets you killed. What caused me to move and go against my bunny instincts was that Keagan Page was next to him laughing.
Unfortunately, Nolan caught sight of my movement and was up on his feet immediately, and coming towards me.
Mod
Chapter One
I lied on my bed pretending to sleep staring at my alarm clock. The green digits 3:56 a.m. mocked me. Finally I heard the door at..."
It was pretty good, but you confused me. You did a lot of explaining, but the storyline still wasn't very clear to me. I knew what you were getting at, but I had to piece together stuff in my mind, not understand from what you wrote. If that makes any sense?
yeah it makes a lot of sense, thank you!
Yeah, my feelings were similar. A little more direction would be helpful. The writing is good, though I feel like there should be a bit more detail so the mood for the story is founded within the first chapter solidly. I guess what Lav said, I get where your going kind of but it's slightly disconected. A little polishing would do the trick.
Well, my book starts with the prologue, so I'll just give you both :3Prologue
Exiled
From the day I was born, I was considered a demon sent from the Spirits as a punishment for a horrible thing done years ago. I lived in the Talon Pride, one of the 10 Prides of stray cats that roamed the city: Skull, Alley, Brick, Beach, Heart, Blood, Dump, Claw, Tooth and of course Talon.
The reasons I was considered a demon was the human-like black hair that started at my forehead and ran down to my shoulders (like the half cat, half human hair of the Demons), my ability to stand and walk on my hind legs easily, the fact that I can handle things (sort of) with my front paws, the fact that I was born with no right eye, and also that I can see horrible things happen to other cats. The pictures just flash through my mind. Like if the Alley Pride fatally injured a member of the Dump Pride, I would know.
Oh yeah, in case you’re wondering, I have beautiful dark gray fur, a white belly, ears, paws and tail tip, and my eye is green as grass. Of course, nobody cares about my beauty or smarts, just the fact that I’m “a bad omen.”
Well, I wasn’t in that Pride for long.
• • •
“I will not tolerate it soiling and polluting my Pride!”
“She’s only three months, Sir Talon!”
“Its age has nothing to do with it, Puddle!”
“Just wait until she’s six months! Please!”
I opened my eye and saw my mother, Puddle, a beautiful calico with the same bright eyes as me, arguing with an amber-eyed orange tabby tom. Sir Talon. The Captain of the Talon Pride. “Oh, Ice,” Mom said softly, burrowing her nose into my fur. I understood what was going on right away. “Mom, it’s okay,” I said. Sir Talon looked at me as if appalled that I could speak. “I don’t want to cause our deaths. I’ll go.” I finished. Sir Talon grinned, his yellow teeth gleaming in the moonlight. With that, I was unceremoniously booted out of the den, literally. Then Bite, a gigantic gray 6-month-old, batted me into the air. I heard cheers. I smashed against a garage door and landed on the gritty asphalt of the alley. I couldn’t breathe. My whole body hurt. They closed in on me. I knew this was the end. I was finished, barley even scratched the surface of life, and it was ending on me already. I sat up blearily. “W-wait!” I yowled. “I thought you were just gonna chase me out! I’ll go!” Sir Talon sneered. “We can’t have you running around and soiling other Prides, can we?” he asked, running a claw down my throat. “I’d love to do this now, but watching Demons get tortured is much, much more fun.” I swore and tried to fight my way out of the group, but Sir Talon screamed and they all leaped on me. I yowled and fought and kicked and scratched. I tried everything. I bit. I even slit a throat. But it wasn’t enough. A claw had scratched my eye so I was blinded with blood. They had scratched where my eye should have been. I was too weakened. They were eating my tail. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t save myself. I was just about to give up when there was a roar like the wind in my ears. Screeches. Yowls. Then I felt something pulling at my scruff. I remembered the rocking feeling of being held by a running cat lulling me into sleep…
Chapter One
Nine Months Later
I am the last of the demons… Maybe.
Those were the last words Twitch, a golden tabby, said. My mentor, who had saved me from the Talon Pride (who looked up to road kill), who had provided me with a pink and black fedora, two hand warmers, one black and blue and one purple and black, a small dog harness with two bags for holding things like herbs and medicines, a black and red scarf, and a mysterious pouch full of yew berries, who had disguised the fact that my tail had been gnawed to the bone by a bandage, who had carefully arranged my bangs over my nonexistant eye, and who had cared for me since she had saved me. I trudged back to the burrow where we lived. Twitch had apprenticed me in medicine. If anyone was hurt, sick, or anything else, they came to us. Right now, the den was empty. I sat down in my nest and jammed my fedora even more tightly on my head. Thinking time. I am the last of the demons… I am the last of the demons… I am the last of the demons… The sentence played over and over in my head until I fell asleep.
• • •
I looked over my shoulder. The blue cat was still there, stalking me, stalking me… He pounced and misjudged my a few feet, landing in front of me. But this was not the blue tom that had been hunting me, but a white cat with blue eyes. She struck me and sent me spinning. When I got up the cat had changed again. An angry-looking black tom was glaring at me. He charged, aiming at my right side, my left, my head, my belly, my back, my tail, he was everywhere. He delivered a blow to my neck and I fell and blood spattered the sky. Then he bit me. I knew I had just been killed. I heard a scream. I was 99% sure it was mine. I opened my eyes and a gray cat with black eyes was gathering useful berries. I blinked and then she was gone and there was a black tom with white eyes chasing vultures away from a horse carcass. I was hungry so I got up and began dragging myself to the carcass. Then the vultures were back and the air was full of shrieks and feathers. Then all traces of birds disappeared. I heard singing. I turned around and saw a beautiful white cat singing and dancing. She spun so much that fur filled the air and when it cleared she was gone. In her place was a brown tom. HE was running, running, running… The ground disappeared and I was in a cave. There was a cat, ten feet tall in front of me. Not kidding. She was humongous. She hissed and clouds filled the cave. I was in the sky. Standing on a cloud. There was a brown tom there too, but he died. He was standing there, absolutely fine, and then he began to choke. He shook and fell onto the ground, gagging. After a few minutes it was over. He was dead. Suddenly he stood up and grinned. An actor, of course, I should have known. Then they all appeared and surrounded me, glowing. I blinked and woke up.
I puzzled about the dream for the longest time. What did it mean? Why were they there? What was so important about a bunch of cats? Then it hit me. They were all talented in something, just as I was talented in medicine. They had walked on their hind legs with ease if they had to. The one that was chasing the vultures encircled his paw around a vulture’s legs as easily as if he were human. That very cat had been BLIND. I knew because his eyes were gray and he didn’t look like he was watching anything, yet he fought off the vultures perfectly and neatly. And all of them had “hair” like mine: A shade darker than their pelt, starting at the shoulders and running up the neck and ending on the forehead, resulting in long bangs. It was a sign from the spirits: I had to find the other nine demons.
This is the main character
That is picture 1/1,000,000,000,000 that I have of her.
Thanks. I'm kind of mad at myself over that picture because I forgot her scar, though.
ALPHA Chapter 1
Skye looked through the window at the pre-dawn light. She wouldn’t have normally looked out of the window at 4:00 in the morning, but she had been so excited and impatient for the day to arrive that she couldn’t sleep for the whole night, as she was anxiously tossing, turning, anticipating, and thinking.
The morning had finally come. Skye brushed a lock of brown hair with golden streaks away from her face and batted her long golden eye lashes, which protected her sky-blue eyes from any kind of danger.
Somehow 7:00 finally arrived, and when the “it’s breakfast time, honey!” call came from downstairs, she tried to wrap up her phone call with her best friend from school, Briar.
“Hey, so listen....I’ll miss you, girl,” Briar said solemnly. She was usually a kind of cheerful person, but today she was all grim and distorted. Skye hated that it was because of her, but she had no choice. Her family was moving to New York City, the ‘Big Apple’ because her dad had found new job opportunities there. She had gotten into an elite boarding school called The Waverly School, which was so different from the city-school that she had been going to in a small city called Flampshire in M***achusetts.
“I’ll miss you too,” she replied. “Text and email me every day, ‘kay?”
“’Kay!” squealed Briar, a little too excitedly.
“I gotta go now, but I’ll call you later. Bye!”
“Chao! Don’t forget me!”
Skye sighed as she snapped her pearl-black Motorola Razr phone shut. It had been a gift from her parents at Christmas. The chao which had been Briar’s parting words to her BFF (Best Friend Forever) reminded Skye of Briar’s Italian descent. Her parents were Italian, and so were her grandparents, and her grandparent’s grandparents, and her great grandparent’s grandparents...Briar always used to say that her grandma never remembered a time when the family hadn’t been Italian. “We were one of the first Italians around,” she would croak when Skye visited her house which was just outside of Flampshire.
Skye longed to stay in Flampshire and not move to New York City, even though she was going to go to a great school. But she had no choice. Oh, how she would miss Briar!
As she ate breakfast in her kitchen for the last time, Skye wondered what it would be like at Waverly. What would the girls be like? Somehow she had a feeling that they would be spoilt-rich, which is why she packed all the designer clothing she had. She aspired to take her best cell phone, the Motorola Razr with her and leave her favourite blue Nokia phone at home, where it belonged.
“Sweetie? Is everything okay?” Her mother asked kindly.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“Alright then.” Her mother looked unconvinced, but she didn’t prompt for answers. It’s much better that way, Skye thought.
Waving goodbye to her father and to her home for one year, Skye scrambled into the family’s silver Nissan SUV with her two large pink Gucci bags.
“Are you sure you have enough things?” Her mother teased as they set off towards the airport.
“Very funny, mom,” replied Skye, sulking in the back. She flipped open her Motorola Razr and flicked through her message inbox. She had one new message. Hastily, Skye clicked ‘Open.’
From: Gabriella.monahan@waverly.edu
To: Skyethedramaqueen@hotmail.com
Subject: Hey, Welcome!
hey Skye!
You don’t know me, but I would like to be the first to welcome you to Waverly! My name is Gabriella and I will b ur room mate. u will b staying @ Cedar dorm with lots of other gals. It’s right next to the Fir dorm, which is where the boys r staying Anyways, I’ll see u at Cedar!!
Luv Gabriella
P.S. Don’t ask how I know ur email. here at waverly you can’t hold any secrets. Word travels fast.
Skye involuntarily gasped at the message when she’d finished reading it. It didn’t make any sense. Who was this Gabriella and how did she know her email address? She seemed too mysterious for Skye’s liking.
Skye stepped out of the John F Kennedy Airport in New York City only to find herself in another world full of flashing lights, Broadway musicals, and yellow taxi cabs. She could already feel the wave of nostalgia of good times at school and of her mother kissing her goodbye back at the airport in Flampshire. This is silly. I haven’t even gotten to Waverly yet! Skye pleaded her 15-year old self not to start bawling into tears in the middle of the Big Apple. Have some dignity! With bridled movements, Skye pulled her two designer pink bags and hauled a taxi cab.
“Where to, miss?” The taxi driver said in heavily accented Spanish as she climbed into the cab.
“Waverly School,” she said, hoping he would know where that was.
“Ah, the Waverly School!” he exclaimed. “You are lucky to go there.”
Wow, it must be a really good school then! Skye could feel her heart swell with pride as she replied, “Yes, I guess I’m a lucky girl.” She wished Briar had been there to see her hawt comeback. They would’ve high-fived each other and giggled in that BFF way of theirs. But she was in Flampshire and Skye was in New York City, miles away.
Sighing, Skye flipped open her Motorola Razr only to find another message from Gabriella waiting in her inbox.
From: Gabriella.monahan@waverly.edu
To: Skyethedramaqueen@hotmail.com
Subject: Reply!
I know that u have opened this message. i know everything. why haven’t u replied?
-Gabriella
Who does she think she is? Skye thought with irritation. She needed to text Briar about that. She composed two new messages, the first addressed to Briar (who she knew would be checking her phone since it was lunch time back in Flampshire).
From: Skyethedramaqueen@hotmail.com
To: blackcatbriar@gmail.com
Subject: Hey, guess what?
Hey,
just arrived at JFK airport in the big apple!! in a cab right now. omg, i wish you were here, there’s so much to see and it’s amazing already!! guess what? back in Flampshire i got a txt from this girl called Gabriella at waverly! she somehow knows my email and she txted me saying welcome e.t.c, but she sounds really mysterious. she said “don’t ask how i know ur email. here at waverly u can’t hold any secrets. word travels fast.” isn’t that sooo mysterious? and she’s going 2 b my ROOMATE!! at this dorm called cedar. anyways that’s not the point, she txted me AGAIN saying that she knew i’d read the message and she asked me why i hadn’t replied. isn’t that sooo lame? she’s such an ***hole. anyways, ttyl. hope ur having fun @ skl. meet any cute boys yet?
-Skye
From: Skyethedramaqueen@hotmail.com
To: Gabriella.monahan@waverly.edu
Subject: The reply u’ve been waiting 4
Hello Gabriella,
Nice to meet u.
I just have 1 question 4 u: who do u think u r and why do u think that u can boss me around like that??
Satisfied with her messages, Skye hit ‘Send.’ She was especially satisfied with the cool and collected manner that she’d texted Gabriella. Serves her right for acting like an ***hole.
“That’ll be $34.60, miss,” stated the taxi driver.
Skye’s hands shook as she opened her pearl-white Fendi wallet and pulled out $35. “Tip,” she said, winking gaily at the driver.
For there, in front of her was the imposing old-fashioned brown brick building that was Waverly. The letters THE WAVERLY SCHOOL were inscribed in gold at the top of the façade. The first building was like a church only with brown bricks, and the rest were plain brown-bricked buildings (most likely the dorms) except for one, which was a long rectangular brown-bricked building that Skye ***umed was the school itself. There were impressive gardens filled with lush flowers and greenery, and a giant field that was great for playing sports on. There was only one sport Skye was actually good at, and that was soccer. She couldn’t wait to join the soccer team. She was sure she’d get in.
Pulling her Gucci bags, Skye followed the signs that read NEW STUDENTS? GO THIS WAY until she finally reached a building that was small and roomy, but like the others in exterior. She opened the golden handle door and walked inside.
PurpleMouse wrote: "ALPHA Chapter 1
Skye looked through the window at the pre-dawn light. She wouldn’t have normally looked out of the window at 4:00 in the morning, but she had been so excited and impatient fo..."
Why did you put "M***achutes"? It's not a cuss word just because there's an "a" and two "s"'s next to each other. Same for "***umed*. It's "Massachutes" and "assumed".
PurpleMouse wrote: "ALPHA Chapter 1
Skye looked through the window at the pre-dawn light. She wouldn’t have normally looked out of the window at 4:00 in the morning, but she had been so excited and impatient fo..."
It's ok to put cursing in your writing and not censor it, just put a note above your story.
Whoops.....my mistake. Sorries. Ok I'll do that next time, thanks Emily :)
Welcome, and don't mind Emily ZSM, you might not have read her introduction, but once you do, she'll make more sense.
Mod
Hmm... so this chapter looks really long, but it's not, because Taylor likes to use spaces too much -_-
And it contains swearing. Just so you know.
April 2, 2010
Dear Brooke,
You have no idea how much I miss you right now. I mean, this is the first year that we didn’t get to pull our annual April Fools Day prank. People kept on eyeing me in the hallway yesterday, like they were expecting me to either break down into hysterics in the middle of the hall or announce that I put the principal’s car on the roof (no, his car did not end up on the roof, although I’m sure you would have loved that).
Junior year is turning out to be a total bummer.
Remember how we used to imagine finally getting out of horrors of freshmen year? You dubbed junior year the perfect year, because we wouldn’t be fresh-meat anymore, but we wouldn’t be going off to college just yet. And the cars, you can’t forget the cars. We might have been fresh meat then, but junior year turned me into one of those pieces of meat that your dad always dropped in the grill at your Fourth of July barbeque. Charred, falling apart, totally burned inside and out, that’s me. Me with a yellow slug-bug that is :)
I can’t make this too long because I’m supposed to be copying down a bunch of equations (yeah, pre-calc sucks as much as you thought it would), and my dad’s been bugging me for having a low A in the class (hear that? that’s the sound of my eyes rolling out of my head). Oops. I’ve been getting so distracted lately that I might as well change my name to Brooke… which reminds me of this brook I went to as a kid to skip rocks, but I accidentally hit Jess, who I have stopped denying being my little sister because she’s over the whole I’m-going-to-be-a-famous-actress-one-day-so-I-need-to-be-a-drama-queen-all-the-time-to-practice phase, in the back of the head with a rock and never went there again.
Wait! Equations!
I hate you for rubbing off on me like this.
Love,
Taylor
April 3, 2010
Dear Brooke,
Today was pretty much uneventful. It’s been the story of my life 6/7 days since you left. This is what I do almost every day:
I wake up. I eat something that isn’t your awesome French Toast. I go to school and I feel my IQ level drop, even though I’m taking all honors/AP classes. I edit and write stories for the school newspaper. I go home and my parents treat me like this baby made of glass that needs to be handled with care and given what they want no matter what (how do you think I got the slug-bug?). I admit, I take advantage of them, but it gets them off of my back for a few weeks and it’s so worth it. After I deal with my parents, I eat again (while my mom still tries to make me eat meat), and then I do homework while Pumpkin (yep, that loveable fat lard of a cat is still alive somehow) sleeps on my keyboard and I try to sleep for seven to eight hours, but that never happens because of the homework, so I sleep until three on the weekends to make up for it.
As for my social life, I hang out with Cassie and Meredith most often, and on most weekends she’ll try to make me go some party that her boyfriend Dustin throws (they got together around two months after you left. They’re actually really cute. He’s a huge jock still, but he can be really nice and funny and he makes Cassie happy). At the party, I’ll talk with Cassie and Dustin and Meredith (while Cassie and Meredith are pointing out potential boyfriends for me) and try not to throw up from the smell of alcohol, sweat, and throw up.
Repeat.
Then repeat again.
And again, and again.
Life is so boring now. I hope that life is a little more eventful where you are.
Love,
Taylor
April 4, 2010
Dear Brooke,
I take back everything I have ever said about school. Sundays suck more.
Love,
Taylor
April 5, 2010
Dear Brooke,
Hmm, so I guess something interesting did happen in my life.
So, today during school the fire alarm went off. I was in the bathroom, and I left my sweatshirt in pre-calc so I figured why the hell should I go outside and freeze my ass off if it’s just going to be another drill? I was doing my hair to pass the time, when suddenly Bri, Laura, and Maddy walk in (they’re that popular group of girls that we decided to avoid freshmen year, remember?).
To this day, we don’t talk. Bri is in probably half my classes, Maddy is in 2, and Laura would never be able to get into AP (that sounds really mean, doesn’t it? Not what I was going for, but it’s just the truth). It’s not like we hate each other or anything. They have their social group, and I’m not apart of it. So we don’t talk. But they walked in and I was looking like an idiot because I somehow managed to hair tangled in my headband, and they were really nice to me.
...Well at first they laughed, and I just kind of laughed back awkwardly. Then, Bri offered to help me. She did my hair in this cute, yet very complicated bun, and put this spray stuff that made my dull brown hair look really shiny. The entire time Maddy and Laura were talking with Bri and me, like I had always been apart of their group. Ten minutes later we figured that it was safe to go, but of course we (I) walked right into a teacher (which hurt, because he was running) and he started shouting at us about how the food lab was on fire, and what on earth are we doing in here still the school was evacuated, and how he was going to have to give us all a detention if we made it out of the school alive. We made it out alive, obviously (he was being a little dramatic, the fire wasn't even that big) but we did end up getting detention. For two hours *insert me groaning here*.
It was just us four, and we painted nails and gossiped and I acted like I was up to date with all the school drama. It was really interesting; I never knew that there was so much going on within the social groups of this school.
How much of a loser do I sound like when I say that? I give myself at least a 7 on the loser scale.
Anyways, we’re all going to the mall on Friday. My parents were really mad about the detention and the fact that I forgot to tell them that I had the detention (oops) so I would have been grounded for at least a week if they weren’t so happy that I had plans with someone other than Cassie and Dustin. Not that they would ever say that, but I can just tell.
Maybe things are looking up after all.
Love,
Taylor
April 6, 2010
Dear Brooke,
Woah. I just had an epiphany (ha ha it’s the one vocab word I remembered from ninth grade honors English because of that picture you drew, which I still have.) So, today I was picking up Jess from school because she missed the bus. When I showed up, she was flirting with this group of guys. When she finally saw me (well, heard me because I sort of had to beep my horn) she walked towards the car doing this weird super-model-strut. She was flipping her hair, shaking her hips. It was disgusting.
And of course, she was wearing my clothes. She was wearing my favorite purple slouchy-shoulder shirt that I wear to parties, my jean skirt (except somehow much shorter and skankier looking) and my brown knee high boots. The worst part about it was that she looked better in it, with her long legs, wavy caramel hair, and zit-free face. We look nothing alike now. You wouldn’t even recognize her anymore. She turned into this pretty, outgoing, and really bratty teenager.
In short, my sister has turned into one of those nasty bitches we used to hate.
Of course, the first thing she said to me was “What the hell was that for?”
“You’re welcome for picking you up,” I replied.
Jess crossed her arms and sighed, and then she said, in this bratty/whiny voice, “God, you’re so embarrassing to me. You, like, show up here looking like you just rolled out of bed, and then you honk the horn super loud, which makes me look really bad when I have to walk into your car, which I hate by the way.”
“Hey hey hey, no insulting The Beetle while I’m driving. And I’m sorry for not being as damn perfect as you. It’s also you’re fault about my hair. The majority of the world doesn’t take a 40 minute shower.”
She rolled her eyes at me then said, “I don’t know why I even bother explaining this kind of stuff to you, Miss I-have-no-social-life-anymore. I actually care about having friends. You’re just like this weird loner indie kid who doesn’t like music.”
I answered back, “Should I take that as a compliment? And I do like music… just very select types.”
She just huffed and crossed her arms and didn’t talk for the rest of the ride. So I turned the radio up and sang obnoxiously and loudly just to bug her. It was pretty fun.
Jess practically jumped out of the car as soon as we touched the driveway. Then, she turned around and hissed, “God Taylor, I hate you. Ever since Brooke left you’ve like turned into this like blob that sits around and does nothing all day. Why don’t you go play soccer again? God, why can’t you just go get a life? You’re not the only one who lost someone.” And then she slammed the door, which she knows I despise.
For a while, I just sat in the car and listened to the radio, because in a way, she was right. I don’t do nothing all day, I just do nothing that’s worth anything (which also includes school).
I guess I just forget how to have a life that actually has a meaning.
Wow, I’ve never seen a sentence with more teen angst in it.
Oh well, I’ll be out of here in a year and a half anyway.
Love,
Taylor
April 7, 2010
Dear Brooke,
I really should stop writing letters to you during class, but I’m really, really bored (stupid English class). So I will anyways. Nothing has really happened since yesterday, so I just thought I’d share a weird conversation we had at lunch today:
*Me, Cassie, Dustin, Meredith, and five other guys are crowded around one of those stupid too small lunch tables*
Cassie (who is still the same red-headed freckled klutzy air brain we both love): Dustin, if you were a pigeon, what would you poop on first?
*everyone at table breaks down laughing except Cassie*
Cassie: Whaaaaat? You guys weren’t talking, like at all.
Dustin: *laughs more* I dunno, my boss’s car.
Cassie: I would poop on the president, so then I could be on the news probably.
Meredith (who is also still the same super-athlete-pretty-blonde-hair-always-gets-the-guys-slightly-physco girl everyone loves): Um, definitely my dad-for being such and asshole and leaving my mom.
Me: *thinks a little* If they exist, I’d poop on whoever is controlling fate, because they’re doing a shitty job.
Whole table: *laughs because I unintentionally made a really funny pun, and then the other guys say who/what they’d poop on*
…Just thought I’d share that with you, because it made my day, and maybe it will make yours too.
Happy 17th Birthday Brooke. Hope it’s as amazing as you are, and I totally didn’t get that from a Hallmark card.
Love,
Taylor
And it contains swearing. Just so you know.
April 2, 2010
Dear Brooke,
You have no idea how much I miss you right now. I mean, this is the first year that we didn’t get to pull our annual April Fools Day prank. People kept on eyeing me in the hallway yesterday, like they were expecting me to either break down into hysterics in the middle of the hall or announce that I put the principal’s car on the roof (no, his car did not end up on the roof, although I’m sure you would have loved that).
Junior year is turning out to be a total bummer.
Remember how we used to imagine finally getting out of horrors of freshmen year? You dubbed junior year the perfect year, because we wouldn’t be fresh-meat anymore, but we wouldn’t be going off to college just yet. And the cars, you can’t forget the cars. We might have been fresh meat then, but junior year turned me into one of those pieces of meat that your dad always dropped in the grill at your Fourth of July barbeque. Charred, falling apart, totally burned inside and out, that’s me. Me with a yellow slug-bug that is :)
I can’t make this too long because I’m supposed to be copying down a bunch of equations (yeah, pre-calc sucks as much as you thought it would), and my dad’s been bugging me for having a low A in the class (hear that? that’s the sound of my eyes rolling out of my head). Oops. I’ve been getting so distracted lately that I might as well change my name to Brooke… which reminds me of this brook I went to as a kid to skip rocks, but I accidentally hit Jess, who I have stopped denying being my little sister because she’s over the whole I’m-going-to-be-a-famous-actress-one-day-so-I-need-to-be-a-drama-queen-all-the-time-to-practice phase, in the back of the head with a rock and never went there again.
Wait! Equations!
I hate you for rubbing off on me like this.
Love,
Taylor
April 3, 2010
Dear Brooke,
Today was pretty much uneventful. It’s been the story of my life 6/7 days since you left. This is what I do almost every day:
I wake up. I eat something that isn’t your awesome French Toast. I go to school and I feel my IQ level drop, even though I’m taking all honors/AP classes. I edit and write stories for the school newspaper. I go home and my parents treat me like this baby made of glass that needs to be handled with care and given what they want no matter what (how do you think I got the slug-bug?). I admit, I take advantage of them, but it gets them off of my back for a few weeks and it’s so worth it. After I deal with my parents, I eat again (while my mom still tries to make me eat meat), and then I do homework while Pumpkin (yep, that loveable fat lard of a cat is still alive somehow) sleeps on my keyboard and I try to sleep for seven to eight hours, but that never happens because of the homework, so I sleep until three on the weekends to make up for it.
As for my social life, I hang out with Cassie and Meredith most often, and on most weekends she’ll try to make me go some party that her boyfriend Dustin throws (they got together around two months after you left. They’re actually really cute. He’s a huge jock still, but he can be really nice and funny and he makes Cassie happy). At the party, I’ll talk with Cassie and Dustin and Meredith (while Cassie and Meredith are pointing out potential boyfriends for me) and try not to throw up from the smell of alcohol, sweat, and throw up.
Repeat.
Then repeat again.
And again, and again.
Life is so boring now. I hope that life is a little more eventful where you are.
Love,
Taylor
April 4, 2010
Dear Brooke,
I take back everything I have ever said about school. Sundays suck more.
Love,
Taylor
April 5, 2010
Dear Brooke,
Hmm, so I guess something interesting did happen in my life.
So, today during school the fire alarm went off. I was in the bathroom, and I left my sweatshirt in pre-calc so I figured why the hell should I go outside and freeze my ass off if it’s just going to be another drill? I was doing my hair to pass the time, when suddenly Bri, Laura, and Maddy walk in (they’re that popular group of girls that we decided to avoid freshmen year, remember?).
To this day, we don’t talk. Bri is in probably half my classes, Maddy is in 2, and Laura would never be able to get into AP (that sounds really mean, doesn’t it? Not what I was going for, but it’s just the truth). It’s not like we hate each other or anything. They have their social group, and I’m not apart of it. So we don’t talk. But they walked in and I was looking like an idiot because I somehow managed to hair tangled in my headband, and they were really nice to me.
...Well at first they laughed, and I just kind of laughed back awkwardly. Then, Bri offered to help me. She did my hair in this cute, yet very complicated bun, and put this spray stuff that made my dull brown hair look really shiny. The entire time Maddy and Laura were talking with Bri and me, like I had always been apart of their group. Ten minutes later we figured that it was safe to go, but of course we (I) walked right into a teacher (which hurt, because he was running) and he started shouting at us about how the food lab was on fire, and what on earth are we doing in here still the school was evacuated, and how he was going to have to give us all a detention if we made it out of the school alive. We made it out alive, obviously (he was being a little dramatic, the fire wasn't even that big) but we did end up getting detention. For two hours *insert me groaning here*.
It was just us four, and we painted nails and gossiped and I acted like I was up to date with all the school drama. It was really interesting; I never knew that there was so much going on within the social groups of this school.
How much of a loser do I sound like when I say that? I give myself at least a 7 on the loser scale.
Anyways, we’re all going to the mall on Friday. My parents were really mad about the detention and the fact that I forgot to tell them that I had the detention (oops) so I would have been grounded for at least a week if they weren’t so happy that I had plans with someone other than Cassie and Dustin. Not that they would ever say that, but I can just tell.
Maybe things are looking up after all.
Love,
Taylor
April 6, 2010
Dear Brooke,
Woah. I just had an epiphany (ha ha it’s the one vocab word I remembered from ninth grade honors English because of that picture you drew, which I still have.) So, today I was picking up Jess from school because she missed the bus. When I showed up, she was flirting with this group of guys. When she finally saw me (well, heard me because I sort of had to beep my horn) she walked towards the car doing this weird super-model-strut. She was flipping her hair, shaking her hips. It was disgusting.
And of course, she was wearing my clothes. She was wearing my favorite purple slouchy-shoulder shirt that I wear to parties, my jean skirt (except somehow much shorter and skankier looking) and my brown knee high boots. The worst part about it was that she looked better in it, with her long legs, wavy caramel hair, and zit-free face. We look nothing alike now. You wouldn’t even recognize her anymore. She turned into this pretty, outgoing, and really bratty teenager.
In short, my sister has turned into one of those nasty bitches we used to hate.
Of course, the first thing she said to me was “What the hell was that for?”
“You’re welcome for picking you up,” I replied.
Jess crossed her arms and sighed, and then she said, in this bratty/whiny voice, “God, you’re so embarrassing to me. You, like, show up here looking like you just rolled out of bed, and then you honk the horn super loud, which makes me look really bad when I have to walk into your car, which I hate by the way.”
“Hey hey hey, no insulting The Beetle while I’m driving. And I’m sorry for not being as damn perfect as you. It’s also you’re fault about my hair. The majority of the world doesn’t take a 40 minute shower.”
She rolled her eyes at me then said, “I don’t know why I even bother explaining this kind of stuff to you, Miss I-have-no-social-life-anymore. I actually care about having friends. You’re just like this weird loner indie kid who doesn’t like music.”
I answered back, “Should I take that as a compliment? And I do like music… just very select types.”
She just huffed and crossed her arms and didn’t talk for the rest of the ride. So I turned the radio up and sang obnoxiously and loudly just to bug her. It was pretty fun.
Jess practically jumped out of the car as soon as we touched the driveway. Then, she turned around and hissed, “God Taylor, I hate you. Ever since Brooke left you’ve like turned into this like blob that sits around and does nothing all day. Why don’t you go play soccer again? God, why can’t you just go get a life? You’re not the only one who lost someone.” And then she slammed the door, which she knows I despise.
For a while, I just sat in the car and listened to the radio, because in a way, she was right. I don’t do nothing all day, I just do nothing that’s worth anything (which also includes school).
I guess I just forget how to have a life that actually has a meaning.
Wow, I’ve never seen a sentence with more teen angst in it.
Oh well, I’ll be out of here in a year and a half anyway.
Love,
Taylor
April 7, 2010
Dear Brooke,
I really should stop writing letters to you during class, but I’m really, really bored (stupid English class). So I will anyways. Nothing has really happened since yesterday, so I just thought I’d share a weird conversation we had at lunch today:
*Me, Cassie, Dustin, Meredith, and five other guys are crowded around one of those stupid too small lunch tables*
Cassie (who is still the same red-headed freckled klutzy air brain we both love): Dustin, if you were a pigeon, what would you poop on first?
*everyone at table breaks down laughing except Cassie*
Cassie: Whaaaaat? You guys weren’t talking, like at all.
Dustin: *laughs more* I dunno, my boss’s car.
Cassie: I would poop on the president, so then I could be on the news probably.
Meredith (who is also still the same super-athlete-pretty-blonde-hair-always-gets-the-guys-slightly-physco girl everyone loves): Um, definitely my dad-for being such and asshole and leaving my mom.
Me: *thinks a little* If they exist, I’d poop on whoever is controlling fate, because they’re doing a shitty job.
Whole table: *laughs because I unintentionally made a really funny pun, and then the other guys say who/what they’d poop on*
…Just thought I’d share that with you, because it made my day, and maybe it will make yours too.
Happy 17th Birthday Brooke. Hope it’s as amazing as you are, and I totally didn’t get that from a Hallmark card.
Love,
Taylor
you guys are awesome writers! if any of you are interested in joining my new group-it's called Stories of the Strange-I'd be incredibly lucky to have ya guys!here's the link: http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/3...
![Spazzy Maz Brit [the insane one] (cally215)](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1298943660p1/4094585.jpg)
***Directed at Maxy***I liked it :) It's different
Brittin wrote: "***Directed at Maxy***
I liked it :) It's different"
Thank you!
I liked it :) It's different"
Thank you!
HOW COULD I FORGET VIGIL? This is the prologue for Vigil--it's short, but I like it because Fate is one of my favorite characters.
One of the hardest things about pain is admitting that you're not alone. Some part of you, no matter how small, wants to feel unique, as if no one can possibly understand what you're going through. That's just the way it works.
For me, it doesn't matter whether my pain is special or not. No one is around to care.
You probably think I'm some melodramatic teenager, don't you? See, there are two flaws in that logic: 1) I am far, and I mean far, past my teenage years, and 2) I'm not being melodramatic. No one cares, because literally no one sees me. I'm not using the word literally wrong either.
I am Fate, or one of many Fates, really. I watch over about a hundredth of the world's population. I am responsible for deciding that hundredth's destiny, their life story, checking up on them to make sure everything goes as planned; all that jazz. Odds are that I'm at fault if your life isn't fantastic. Don't blame me, though, because frankly, you couldn't do much better. You gripe about your own paying jobs all the time and go on strikes when you don't get what you want. You even get to stop working once you reach a certain age. I can't actually remember my age, yet here I am - and I don't think I'll be stopping anytime soon.
That was one fascinating tangent, wasn't it?
Anyways, back to pain. I definitely know what it is. I realize that I haven't experienced all kinds of pain - I've never had a family member pass away, I've never cracked my head open. However, I think it's safe to say my pain is a matter entirely separate from others'. Why?
Because I have an eternity to remember it.
One of the hardest things about pain is admitting that you're not alone. Some part of you, no matter how small, wants to feel unique, as if no one can possibly understand what you're going through. That's just the way it works.
For me, it doesn't matter whether my pain is special or not. No one is around to care.
You probably think I'm some melodramatic teenager, don't you? See, there are two flaws in that logic: 1) I am far, and I mean far, past my teenage years, and 2) I'm not being melodramatic. No one cares, because literally no one sees me. I'm not using the word literally wrong either.
I am Fate, or one of many Fates, really. I watch over about a hundredth of the world's population. I am responsible for deciding that hundredth's destiny, their life story, checking up on them to make sure everything goes as planned; all that jazz. Odds are that I'm at fault if your life isn't fantastic. Don't blame me, though, because frankly, you couldn't do much better. You gripe about your own paying jobs all the time and go on strikes when you don't get what you want. You even get to stop working once you reach a certain age. I can't actually remember my age, yet here I am - and I don't think I'll be stopping anytime soon.
That was one fascinating tangent, wasn't it?
Anyways, back to pain. I definitely know what it is. I realize that I haven't experienced all kinds of pain - I've never had a family member pass away, I've never cracked my head open. However, I think it's safe to say my pain is a matter entirely separate from others'. Why?
Because I have an eternity to remember it.
I like this story Maxy. Do you have more posted?
That's good!
The preface for my Death by Roses novel. I sit in the defendants’ chair with a straight spine. My nails dig into the palm of my hand, tight enough to draw blood. The air of the court room is hot and stuffy and my sweat creates a thin line down the middle of my back soaking through my blue blouse. I lean forward a little and flap the edges of my shirt out, swallowing in cooler air.
The judge walks in to the room and we all stand with her and sit down accordingly. I remember reading To Kill a Mockingbird in school once, and I thought the only interesting part was the court scene; but I never fully understood the weight one word could hold on you. But as I await my fate I can feel the pressure Tom Robinson must have felt. To feel those hungry eyes punching holes into your back; to wonder how long you’ll have before being contained in a cell; to know that it was you who killed a man for your own life, though Tom didn't murder anybody. He hadn’t raped anybody, either.
The human species is selfish. That is something I have always known. A life for a life is what they say.
The judge sighs and I can see the beads of sweat underneath his white wig. I always wonder why they wore them. They never looked good on anybody except in movies.
The judge speaks but I cannot hear him. My mind is blank and I think I’m going to be committed of murder. Twenty years is how long I’ll be in a damp, cold, stale, grey cell for. Twenty years of my life will be gone.
I’ll be thirty seven by the time I get out.
I glance over my shoulder and catch his eye. His face is impassive but I see the pain, worry, and regret written over his face. It was his life he thought I saved. I hadn’t. I saved my family’s life and my life as well as his. I don’t regret it. I stare at him a little longer before my eyes draw their way back to the judge’s seat as if we both have magnets attached to us.
“The jury has come to an agreement.” The judge stares at me and for a moment my world is suspended in air with nothing to anchor it down. His black gaze burns a hole in me that I will never forget. One does not forget these kinds of things.
“Miss Aimee Reeve’s, I must admit you have an unlikely case that I have not heard before,” he murmured in a low voice that. He spoke in a louder voice to the court. “The jury has read over the case files, both present and the January twenty-ten court case involving Brian Knight where you acted as a witness.” I have no need to nod my head. He knows that I know.
The judge looks weary as he gazes over the jury before he turns back to me. “The jury has come to the conclusion that you are not guilty of murder or manslaughter.”
Wow that sounds really interesting!
Too... many... stories....*runs out of the room screaming in peril*
This topic has been frozen by the moderator. No new comments can be posted.
“I want that tattoo.” Lex pointed to the one of the mostly naked woman holding a machine gun.
I raised my eyebrows in momentary disbelief. “Seriously, Lex?”
“You don’t like it, Ivy?” She said in a half sarcastic voice.
“I’m just failing to understand why you want a tattoo of a naked woman on your back.”
“She’s not completely naked, don’t be a prude. And besides, all the guys will love it.” She winked at me. “Hey, maybe you should get one too, it might boost your sex life.”
“What the hell, Lex? In case you’re forgetting, I’m sixteen. So, last time I checked I don’t have a sex life!” I whispered the last words, afraid someone might hear.
“Psh! You know I lost my virginity when I was-”
I cut her off, “We’re in public, not a place to be talking about details of your personal life.”
She just turned around, and started mumbling something probably about how much of a “prude” I am. I sighed.
The tattoo shop we were in was actually pretty nice. It was set up so that from the outside it looked like just another dingy joint, but inside it was all newly furnished and pretty to look at. The room Lex and I were in was the one for selecting what tattoo you wanted. All over the wall were different drawings of anything from a deck of cards to a walrus. Then, if the walls weren’t enough there were also tables set up with whole albums of designs.
This wasn’t the great part. The best thing was that in the corner they had a well resourced coffee bar. Which was great, because Lex had dragged me out of bed at eight in the morning to come here.
There wasn’t many other people in the room, just a frantic French woman and her not so frantic husband, and a very attractive young couple not much older then me. I walked over to the coffee bar and pour myself a cup of coffee. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a guy walk to the bar too.
Mid-sip of my coffee, Lex ran up to be and shouted, “I’m not freaking pregnant!”
So I did of course, the cliche thing to do. As Lex announced this, I spat my coffee all over the male counterpart of the attractive couple.
My cheeks flamed from embarrassment and I took some paper towels from the table and started handing them to the man. He had gotten a pretty healthy dose of my coffee/saliva on his shirt. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean too.”
He looked at me for the first time, his eyes were very blue. “That’s good, it would have been pretty mean if you meant to spit coffee at me on purpose.” He had a slight trace of an Australian accent.
I found myself giggling. God, what was this? I was so not the type of girl to giggle.
Lex stepped in front of the man, who was still busy cleaning up his shirt. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m not pregnant. Wahoo!”
“I didn’t even know you thought you were.”
“Why do think I was getting a tattoo? You know that’s what I do when I think I’m pregnant, I flip out, do irrational, painful things.” She nudged me. “Remember the bungee jump incident?”
How could I not? Last year, when Lex thought she was knocked up, she kidnapped m. Then took me on a road trip to New York State to go jump off bridges. Not a fun expirence.
“So, how do you suddenly know you’re not pregnant?” It was attractive boy who spoke. Yesh, someone is nosey.
Lex turned to him, gave him a once over. She smiled, “and you are...?”
“Turner.” He held out his hand, “nice to meet you? I don‘t believe I‘ve gotten your name either.”
She smiled again “It’s Lex. And to answer your question, how do I suddenly know I’m not pregnant? Well, once a month women have this wondrous, and beautiful thing, called their Menstrual Cycle. It is where a women starts to bl-”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” Turner said, slightly embarrassed.
“Get what?” The attractive female counterpart had arrived.
Lex looked at the girl. She scrunched her brows ever so slightly, so I was the only one who noticed. Lex did not like her. Although their was no prize(yet), Lex had obviously decided that with one twitch of the brow, this girl was her competition. And it was obvious why she would have this girl against her. They were opposites.
While Lex had creamy Asian skin, this girl was tan in a nice sun-kissed way. The girl had short spiky blond hair that complimented her strong cheekbones and interesting face. Lex had long dark, shimmery hair they fell down to her back. Lex’s clothes were cheap and rocker-esq that would be just plain grungy on anyone else. The girl was the picture of elegance in her flowery skirt and pressed white top. Perfectly manicured nails didn’t hurt also.
Looking at these two very beautiful people, I started to feel inadequate just standing next to them. Sometimes Lex was enough to make me feel sort of bad, but with both of them, I just wanted to sink into the floor.
Unlike Lex, I wasn’t exotic, I had plain European features that didn’t really stand out anywhere. My eyes were brown and my shoulders a bit too wide for my meager height of only five feet. My hair was a mixture between blonde and brown, as if it couldn’t decide which way to go. Freckles sprinkled my nose and cheeks.
The shocking thing, Lex and I were sisters. Not full sisters, of course, but step sisters. When she was eight and I was two, my mom and her dad married. The age difference never really mattered. She has always been a bit young for her age, and I, a bit old. So it worked.
It wasn’t just our very different appearances that made people think we were not related, it was also our personalities. You would think we would not get along, but we did. Sort of.
“And this is Ivy.” I was woken from my thoughts by Lex gesturing towards me. I think she expected me to talk, but instead I just nodded my head.
The attractive girl held her hand out to me, “I’m Alyssa. Lex say’s we’re going to be going to the same school.”
Whoa. Wait. What?
This girl who looked almost thirty was my age? No way.
“Alyssa and Turner are brother and sister, Ivy. Turner’s my age, he goes to Columbia.” Lex said, and talked to me slow, like I have a mental problem.
Finally words formed in my mouth, “Wow, what a confidence, Alyssa. That you’re going to be going to be going to the same school as me. Out of all the high schools In New York City.”
She give me a not very convincing smile. “Yeah, weird. I just moved here, from Seattle.” She did not have an Australian accent.
“Right, Seattle has the coffee.”
She laughed. Her laugh was like a flute that was horribly out of tune. “I actually don’t like coffee very much. Turner does, though.”
Turner hadn’t seemed to be listening until now, “Turner does what?”
“Loves coffee.” Alyssa says. “Probably not on your shirt though?” She laughs her obnoxious laugh again.
Alyssa knew about that? Ugh. They must have been talking about that while I was zoned out thinking about Lex’s and Alyssa‘s prettiness. God, I was creepy. I try not to blush. “Sorry, again about that, Turner.”
“Naw. It’s no big deal.”
Lex jumps in, “Are you getting a tattoo, Turner?”
“I’m not sure. I’m just looking for now. You?”
“Not anymore, I’m not pregnant, remember?”
“Lex, we should go.” I looked at one of the clocks on the wall, “It’s almost ten-thirty. You told your dad you would go out with him at eleven, didn’t you?”
Lex groans and I know I’m right. “I really should go....” He face lights up with an idea, “but I could always cancel. Maybe instead we could all go out to breakfast?”
Alyssa speaks up first, “I um... I don’t know. I mean we just met and-”
“That mean, ‘sure we loved to.’” Turner said enthusiastically.
“Awesome. It’s all set then.” Lex smiled.
“Wait a sec.” I said, kind of pissed off. “You’re just going to blow off your dad, so we can go out with some people we barely know?”
“Pretty much.”
I don’t say anything. What she’s doing is too inconsiderate.
Lex knows I’m pissed. “Oh, come off it, Ivy. It’s not that bad. I can just reschedule.”
“Whatever. I’m going home.”
“Fine. Be that way.”
I walked out of the shop without saying bye to Turner or Alyssa.