Click here to read the query.
Rick got up off of the couch and reached into the inner lining of his jacket. He pulled out a large manila envelope and tossed it on the coffee table in front of Danny.
Danny reached over and snatched the envelope off of the table. He eyed it closely and then looked up at Rick. "What's this?"
"Just open it."
Danny peeled the top of the envelope open and dumped out the contents. Photos and papers fluttered to the coffee table.
"What am I looking at?" Danny asked.
Rick bent down and began sifting through the paperwork. He pulled an old photo of a boy from the stack and held it up for Danny to see.
"Carlos Rimerez, age ten in the photo. He was number twelve in the group."
Danny studied the photo. It was an eight-by-ten snapshot of a boy with black curly hair and olive skin, standing awkwardly in front of a smooth concrete wall. His large, chocolate brown eyes stared back at Danny with fear. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and his statistics were scrawled in tiny block letters across the bottom of the photo.
Rick riffled through the rest of the paperwork until he found what he was looking for. He shoved a single page of a newspaper into Danny's hands and pointed at a circled article in the paper.
Danny leaned in close to read it, only to find the entire paper was in Spanish.
"This kid was shipped to Mexico to live with his grandparents after the program ended," Rick said. "He died two years ago. Local Federales claim he committed suicide by driving his car straight into the Rio Grande."
"So what if he did?" asked Danny.
"They located his car at the bottom of the river about two hundred miles away from Santiago, where he lived with his grandparents," Rick said, "Why would he drive almost two hundred miles away from his hometown to commit suicide?"
"Maybe the kid had some thinking to do before he died," Danny said, shrugging.
Rick nodded, "Okay, good point."
He riffled through the paperwork and pulled another photograph out of the stack. He slid it across the papers so that it came to a stop in front of Danny.
"Patricia Clark, age thirteen in the photo. She was number eleven in the group." Rick said, pointing to the photo of a dark haired, green eyed little girl standing in front of the same bland cement wall. She was also wearing a white t-shirt and the same tiny, blocked handwriting was scribbled on her photograph.
"What happened to her?" Danny asked.
"She lived in West Virginia with her aunt and uncle. Approximately twenty-two months ago she cut the padlock on her uncle's gun cabinet and blasted a hole through the back of her skull with a single-action semi-automatic pistol," Rick said, pulling a stack of photos out from underneath the pile and slapping them down in front of Danny.
Danny looked down at the photos and scowled. They were vivid pictures of Patricia sprawled out on the floor in front of an opened gun cabinet, blood splattered down the wall behind her.
"What did the police have to say about that one?"
"They ruled it a suicide. Funny thing is the uncle swears the girl never touched a gun her entire life and wouldn't know how to use one."
Danny had never fired a gun either, let alone had one in his house for Jenna to accidently stumble upon.
"So? Don't kids accidently shoot themselves all the time?" Danny asked.
Rick grimaced, "A single-action semi-automatic pistol can only be cocked by operating the slide or cocking the hammer manually if a round is already in the chamber. The uncle claims the gun was not loaded. His gun cabinet was stacked with bullets for several different types of guns. Let's say even though Patricia had an aversion to guns, never even touching one before, that she knew what ammo to load in the pistol and knew how to load it, cock it and unlock the safety on the handle. Then it would make sense that it would be pretty easy for her to take the next step and end her life."
"Okay, so what am I missing here?" Danny asked.
"Uncle claims not only was the gun not loaded, but he had taken it apart to clean it the day before and wasn't finished cleaning it when Patricia had apparently put it back together, selected the correct bullets to load into the chamber and then used it to blow her brains out." Rick said.
"So you think this Brad kid somehow drove Carlos' car into the river with him in it and then a few months after that broke into a gun cabinet in this Patricia's uncle's house, put the uncle's pistol back together and forced Patricia to shoot herself with it?" Danny asked.
Whatever Rick was trying to tell Danny didn't make sense. This Brad maybe tried killing Jenna at the facility when she was eight and eleven years later kills a couple members of this disbanded secret group of kids?
"Not convinced yet?" Rick asked. He pushed another photo of a child in front of Danny's face.
"Stephanie Haze, age ten in the photo, group member ten. Hung herself in her college dorm room in New York eighteen months ago," Rick said, replacing the photo of the little girl with one of a young woman's body hanging by a thick rope over a twin bed littered with stuffed animals.
Another photo was thrown at Danny.
"Daren Childs, age twelve here, group member nine. Mauled to death seventeen months ago by a black bear in the woods of South Dakota."
Rick slipped another photo in front of Danny with a barely recognizable body ripped to shreds, lying in a patch of grass next to some trees.
Another photo.
"Katie Benson, age nine, member eight. Slipped and fell down three flights of stairs at a hotel in Florida and broke her neck thirteen months ago."
Rick pushed more photos of the grown-up Katie Benson into Danny's hands. Her body rested at the foot of a flight of stairs, left leg curled underneath her, right arm splayed at an unnatural angle, tangled in a thick mess of dirty blonde hair. Her vacant eyes stared directly at Danny.
"Jack Fox, second oldest of the group at fifteen, seventh member. Overdosed on Vicodin twelve months ago," Rick said as he flipped two photos over to Danny—one of the fifteen year old Fox, the next of an adult male lying facedown on a dirty couch. A trail of vomit led from the edge of the couch to a small pool formed on the floor.
"Do I really need to continue or are you getting this now?" Rick asked in exasperation.
Danny sat still on the couch, surrounded by photos of young children interspersed with photos of their older, dead selves. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the pictures.
"Member six is Steve LaFonde, age ten in this photo here," Rick said, holding up the picture, "Slit his own throat on a beach right here in Washington a little over eight weeks ago."
Rick held up the other photo of a young man lying next to a smooth log on the rocky beach, blood pooled around his head.
Danny's blood ran cold as Rick threw the pictures at him. He knew the kid in this photo. It was the obituary he was reading on Jenna's last morning home before returning to college.
Showing posts with label Sample Pages. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sample Pages. Show all posts
Oct 25, 2010
Aug 15, 2010
Sample Pages- Between by Cyndi Tefft
Click here to read the query.
Ravi’s lips were soft and familiar against mine, but my mind was elsewhere, obsessing about my upcoming finals. “Lindsey, you are so beautiful,” he said, pressing me tighter against the seat of the car. His mouth trailed over my jaw to my neck, his breath warm in my ear.
“I love you”, he whispered.
That snapped me back to reality.
Damn. I liked Ravi, I really did, but not as much as he liked me. The kissing was nice, but I didn’t feel IT, the connection, the zing. The L word? Damn, damn, damn! I had to say something but I didn’t want to lose him as a friend. Truthfully, he was my best friend. He’d helped me study for my French exam, even though he couldn’t speak a word of the language. When I’d told him about my parents’ divorce, he’d held me while I cried. He made up silly songs on the piano just to make me laugh. I did love him, in a way. Just not that way.
“Ravi…”
“You know what, never mind. Just forget I said anything, okay?” His voice was tight with embarrassment.
“No, really, it’s just…”
He jerked away and turned the key in the ignition, his lips pressed in a hard line. The engine roared to life. “It’s alright,” he said finally and flicked on the high beams. “It’s no big deal. Let’s just go.”
Fat droplets of rain splattered on the windshield and built into a steady drumming on the roof. The swish of the wipers and the hum of the heater echoed in the chasm between us and I struggled to think of a way to alleviate the tension. Ravi switched on the radio to an oldies station. “You Are So Beautiful” came on and I squirmed in my seat, remembering how Ravi had just said those very words to me.
“So-” I began.
“Hey-” he said at the same time.
We both stopped and a nervous giggle escaped me. Still, it was enough to break the silence and the knot in my gut relaxed.
“I was going to tell you, Micah and I are thinking of starting a band,” Ravi continued, his voice nonchalant. “I met this guy, Todd, in my Physics class who plays drums. With Micah on the guitar, all we’d need would be a lead singer. Would you be interested?”
“Really? Me?” I asked.
“Sure, I’ve heard you sing. You have a great voice.”
“Thanks,” I replied. I loved to sing, though I’d never been in a band before. I’d been in choir all through high school, but hadn’t ever sung a solo. A thrill ran through me at the idea of being on stage with the music thumping and colored lights swirling, while a throng of fans bounced to the beat below. “It sounds fun,” I said, already starting to dance in my seat at the thought. “When should we practice? Do you have any songs picked out?”
The highway was deserted and we hadn’t seen another car pass by us for miles. Ravi turned his head and smiled at me, giving minimal attention to the familiar road. “Yeah, Micah and I have a couple of…”
“Look out!” I yelled.
His eyes snapped forward and he slammed on the brakes. The sedan in front of us was creeping along and we came screaming up behind it. I recoiled in fear as the car started to hydroplane, the tires sliding across the slick asphalt. Ravi wrenched on the steering wheel and pumped the brakes, trying to regain control. The treads suddenly found purchase and sent us careening into the other lane. The stiff seatbelt cut into my neck as I was tossed against the door.
I was vaguely aware of Joe Cocker’s raspy voice crooning as we rammed into the other vehicle. The impact reverberated through my head, and from somewhere in the distance, I heard myself screaming in terror. Panic gripped the base of my neck, every muscle pulled taut with fear. The headlights flung streaks of light like fireworks in the driving rain as we spun out of control, then the tires found something to grab onto and we went sailing off the roadway.
The car hung in mid air and bile rose in my throat, then the hood smashed into the ground. My forehead smacked against the dash and I bit my tongue hard, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. Screeching metal and breaking glass echoed in concert with sickening thuds as the Mustang tumbled down the ravine. I was whipped upside down and Ravi’s body floated over mine as the car rolled, his face contorted in fear.
I couldn’t call out to him or even will myself to move, the centrifugal force alternately keeping me pressed against the door or yanking me against the biting restraint of the seatbelt. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I was aware it was my turn for the next impact. The blood froze in my veins. The trunk of the pine tree outside my window beckoned to me with relentless persistence. The metal car door wrapped around me in an unforgiving embrace, squeezing the air from my lungs.
May 29, 2010
Query, The Spinner's Wheel,plus excerpt
Dear Super luscious Agent,
When Valerius Anaxandros time travels from his home on the Planet Elledra to Earth he is faced with espionage, intrigue and surprise attacks, as Elledra’s chosen Time Rider it’s just part of his job description. The Watchers, a group of men and women on Earth who think that time travel is an abomination, are always willing to help him into the next life, but Valerius’s most recent encounter is not with one of the Watchers, but with a scarred face man who knows what he is.
Valerius’s problems don’t end there, his niece, fifteen year old Sara Gallager, is a genetically gifted time traveler who needs to be relocated from her home in the United States to Elledra to be trained. Valerius finds himself overseeing her training while dealing with Crassius Atrapes, the man he met earlier, who turns out to be a rogue time traveler from 40 BC who wants to wrest control of Rome from Julius Caesar and rule as Emperor.
When Crassius goes back in time to recruit two of Earths great warriors, Hannibal of Carthage from 300 B.C and Cassivellaunus of Britannia from 50 B.C, Valerius must act to preserve the true history of Earth which he is sworn to protect. If he doesn’t succeed, Earth as we know it will be changed forever.
The Spinner’s Wheel, is a Fantasy/Science Fiction novel complete at 75,000 words.
I look forward to hearing from you,
Sincerely,
K.D. Vassall
The great entrance hall of Antiquitas was still and quiet, its massive columns looming high to support a domed shaped roof. On the floor in the center of the room, a large circle was cut into the pale colored stone, and at its very heart sat a milky white rock. A sudden shift in the wind had the fallen leaves resting near the circle swirling, and the stone in the core of the circle flared with light. Out of nowhere the ghostly outline of a man dressed in black, atop of an equally black horse appeared. The image wavered for a moment, and then seemed to fade. Finally there came a burst of light and the man and the horse came clearly into view.
Valerius Anaxandros instinctively glanced behind him, his jaw clenching as he surveyed the empty spot off to his right. Dismounting, he busied himself with his saddle and forced his features into more relaxed lines. He was a young man, no older than twenty one, but his lean face had a settled look to it that most typical men of his age didn’t have; a look that said that he already knew who he was. Everything about him was quick yet deliberate, his movements were economical, and his green eyes, when they settled on you were unthreatening yet penetrating. All in all he gave the impression that he was someone to be reckoned with. And he was.
His mouth was what spoiled his almost perfect control; it had a tendency to tilt this way and that, and hinted at a capacity for humor and a propensity towards mischief. Right now, however, it was on a downward descent, and plunged even further as he thought back to the encounter he had earlier today. Who was the man that had attacked him on that narrow road outside Rome? How did he know what he was? He was a threat, Valerius was sure of that, at some point in time he will have to be dealt with.
A whisper of thought, distinctly feminine, touched his mind.
It was a touch he was familiar with, a presence inside him that knew his mind as thoroughly as he himself did.
“We should speak to the Proceris about him.”
“I know, I will,” Valerius thought back.
A flash of silver caught Valerius’s eye. A Sphinx, made of beaten silver strolled into the room from the balcony off to the right. Valerius was surprised, but he held up his hand, palm up as protocol required, as it’s lion’s body stalked over to him. It surveyed Valerius dispassionately.
Its face looked like a human male’s, with high, broad cheekbones highlighted in gold. Its chin was solid and square except for the ears, which were pointed. Those ears twitched back and forth slowly as he processed Valerius’s palm print, his bone structure and his iris. He looked up at Valerius, a question in its topaz eyes.
Valerius knew what he was waiting for.
“Galatia?” said Valerius.
Immediately a golden disc melted out of his right arm. Adhagen fixed his attention on the disc, there seemed to be a moment of communication, a type of communion that Valerius didn’t fully understand. After a few moments Adhagen nodded his head, gave a slight bow before he turned and padded away.
“He’s gone” murmured Valerius. At once the disc melted back into his flesh.
“I know” said Galatia. “If Adhagan is here then the Proceris must be close by,” she added.
Valerius nodded.
It was written that the Sphinx’s job was to guard the six Travelers Circle’s, set at different points on the planet, in times of trouble. But there had been no trouble in the four thousand years that humans had inhabited Elledra. The guard had been withdrawn. The Male of the pride, Adhagan, was the only one left in service and was always with The Proceris. He would have reported to Lycurgus that he was here by now.
He decided to unstrap Sorcerers saddle while he waited, but changed his mind when he heard a familiar tapping sound. It was Lycurgus. His old, weathered face was twisted up into a scowl and his white eyebrows were furrowed down to meet in the middle. His unruly, curly white hair surrounded his face like a halo, but Valerius knew from long association, there was nothing remotely angelic about Proceris Lycurgus. The sphinx drew up beside him, swished its tail and tossed his head in Valerius’s direction as if to say, ‘there he is’.
Lycurgus nodded at the Sphinx before turning his sharp blue gaze on him.
“I was surprised when Adhagan told me you had arrived. Your assignment wasn’t supposed to end for another three days,” said Lycurgus, flicking back the collar of his gold and purple tunic and striking a dashing pose with his cane.
Valerius’s lips twitch upwards, an inevitable reaction to Lycurgus’s presence. With his flamboyant nature and unusual sense of style, many people were surprised when Lycurgus was elected to the highest position in the land, but Valerius knew that Lycurgus’s exterior hid a shrewd and clever man.
“Proceris Lycurgus” said Valerius, giving him a formal bow, “I must speak with you.”
Lygurgus nodded, his gaze skidding off to the right, before fixing itself again on Valerius’s face. Valerius pressed his lips together, making an effort to keep his expression impassive. He didn’t
think he succeeded, because Lycurgus dropped his gaze. Valerius realised that he was trying to give him some privacy.
“Its not about Sayuri…something…unexpected has happened, but since we’re on the topic, has the Knight Priests found anything…?” asked Valerius.
“No, not yet. There is no sign of her. You must know Valerius that it’s likely that she is…well, that she will not be found.”
“Yes, I know.”
Lycurgus didn’t linger on the matter, indeed he seemed anxious to change the topic. He rapped his cane twice sharply on the floor. At once a young man hurried around the corner.
“See to Lord Valerius’s horse,” he said. The young man bowed, giving Lycurgus a wide smile as he led Sorcerer away.
Lycurgus glowered after him, “no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to intimidate that one.”
Valerius lips quirked upwards, “that must disappoint you.”
“Yes. Yes it does.”
Pulling off his well worn black, leather gloves Valerius glanced around him. They were alone. “There has been an incident…”
Lycurgus held up a wrinkled hand. “Not now, we will talk in my personal chambers.”
The faint whir of a police siren interrupted their conversation. Valerius peered outside and saw a yellow Airsurfer hover car hurtling through the air with three police cars in close pursuit. The Airsurfer careened towards the hall and then pulled up suddenly, zooming over the roof. His glimpse of the driver confirmed his suspicions. A freckled teenager was manning the wheel, his blond head bobbing to the heavy beat of hip hop music.
When Valerius Anaxandros time travels from his home on the Planet Elledra to Earth he is faced with espionage, intrigue and surprise attacks, as Elledra’s chosen Time Rider it’s just part of his job description. The Watchers, a group of men and women on Earth who think that time travel is an abomination, are always willing to help him into the next life, but Valerius’s most recent encounter is not with one of the Watchers, but with a scarred face man who knows what he is.
Valerius’s problems don’t end there, his niece, fifteen year old Sara Gallager, is a genetically gifted time traveler who needs to be relocated from her home in the United States to Elledra to be trained. Valerius finds himself overseeing her training while dealing with Crassius Atrapes, the man he met earlier, who turns out to be a rogue time traveler from 40 BC who wants to wrest control of Rome from Julius Caesar and rule as Emperor.
When Crassius goes back in time to recruit two of Earths great warriors, Hannibal of Carthage from 300 B.C and Cassivellaunus of Britannia from 50 B.C, Valerius must act to preserve the true history of Earth which he is sworn to protect. If he doesn’t succeed, Earth as we know it will be changed forever.
The Spinner’s Wheel, is a Fantasy/Science Fiction novel complete at 75,000 words.
I look forward to hearing from you,
Sincerely,
K.D. Vassall
The Spinners Wheel
Chapter 1
The great entrance hall of Antiquitas was still and quiet, its massive columns looming high to support a domed shaped roof. On the floor in the center of the room, a large circle was cut into the pale colored stone, and at its very heart sat a milky white rock. A sudden shift in the wind had the fallen leaves resting near the circle swirling, and the stone in the core of the circle flared with light. Out of nowhere the ghostly outline of a man dressed in black, atop of an equally black horse appeared. The image wavered for a moment, and then seemed to fade. Finally there came a burst of light and the man and the horse came clearly into view.
Valerius Anaxandros instinctively glanced behind him, his jaw clenching as he surveyed the empty spot off to his right. Dismounting, he busied himself with his saddle and forced his features into more relaxed lines. He was a young man, no older than twenty one, but his lean face had a settled look to it that most typical men of his age didn’t have; a look that said that he already knew who he was. Everything about him was quick yet deliberate, his movements were economical, and his green eyes, when they settled on you were unthreatening yet penetrating. All in all he gave the impression that he was someone to be reckoned with. And he was.
His mouth was what spoiled his almost perfect control; it had a tendency to tilt this way and that, and hinted at a capacity for humor and a propensity towards mischief. Right now, however, it was on a downward descent, and plunged even further as he thought back to the encounter he had earlier today. Who was the man that had attacked him on that narrow road outside Rome? How did he know what he was? He was a threat, Valerius was sure of that, at some point in time he will have to be dealt with.
A whisper of thought, distinctly feminine, touched his mind.
It was a touch he was familiar with, a presence inside him that knew his mind as thoroughly as he himself did.
“We should speak to the Proceris about him.”
“I know, I will,” Valerius thought back.
A flash of silver caught Valerius’s eye. A Sphinx, made of beaten silver strolled into the room from the balcony off to the right. Valerius was surprised, but he held up his hand, palm up as protocol required, as it’s lion’s body stalked over to him. It surveyed Valerius dispassionately.
Its face looked like a human male’s, with high, broad cheekbones highlighted in gold. Its chin was solid and square except for the ears, which were pointed. Those ears twitched back and forth slowly as he processed Valerius’s palm print, his bone structure and his iris. He looked up at Valerius, a question in its topaz eyes.
Valerius knew what he was waiting for.
“Galatia?” said Valerius.
Immediately a golden disc melted out of his right arm. Adhagen fixed his attention on the disc, there seemed to be a moment of communication, a type of communion that Valerius didn’t fully understand. After a few moments Adhagen nodded his head, gave a slight bow before he turned and padded away.
“He’s gone” murmured Valerius. At once the disc melted back into his flesh.
“I know” said Galatia. “If Adhagan is here then the Proceris must be close by,” she added.
Valerius nodded.
It was written that the Sphinx’s job was to guard the six Travelers Circle’s, set at different points on the planet, in times of trouble. But there had been no trouble in the four thousand years that humans had inhabited Elledra. The guard had been withdrawn. The Male of the pride, Adhagan, was the only one left in service and was always with The Proceris. He would have reported to Lycurgus that he was here by now.
He decided to unstrap Sorcerers saddle while he waited, but changed his mind when he heard a familiar tapping sound. It was Lycurgus. His old, weathered face was twisted up into a scowl and his white eyebrows were furrowed down to meet in the middle. His unruly, curly white hair surrounded his face like a halo, but Valerius knew from long association, there was nothing remotely angelic about Proceris Lycurgus. The sphinx drew up beside him, swished its tail and tossed his head in Valerius’s direction as if to say, ‘there he is’.
Lycurgus nodded at the Sphinx before turning his sharp blue gaze on him.
“I was surprised when Adhagan told me you had arrived. Your assignment wasn’t supposed to end for another three days,” said Lycurgus, flicking back the collar of his gold and purple tunic and striking a dashing pose with his cane.
Valerius’s lips twitch upwards, an inevitable reaction to Lycurgus’s presence. With his flamboyant nature and unusual sense of style, many people were surprised when Lycurgus was elected to the highest position in the land, but Valerius knew that Lycurgus’s exterior hid a shrewd and clever man.
“Proceris Lycurgus” said Valerius, giving him a formal bow, “I must speak with you.”
Lygurgus nodded, his gaze skidding off to the right, before fixing itself again on Valerius’s face. Valerius pressed his lips together, making an effort to keep his expression impassive. He didn’t
think he succeeded, because Lycurgus dropped his gaze. Valerius realised that he was trying to give him some privacy.
“Its not about Sayuri…something…unexpected has happened, but since we’re on the topic, has the Knight Priests found anything…?” asked Valerius.
“No, not yet. There is no sign of her. You must know Valerius that it’s likely that she is…well, that she will not be found.”
“Yes, I know.”
Lycurgus didn’t linger on the matter, indeed he seemed anxious to change the topic. He rapped his cane twice sharply on the floor. At once a young man hurried around the corner.
“See to Lord Valerius’s horse,” he said. The young man bowed, giving Lycurgus a wide smile as he led Sorcerer away.
Lycurgus glowered after him, “no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to intimidate that one.”
Valerius lips quirked upwards, “that must disappoint you.”
“Yes. Yes it does.”
Pulling off his well worn black, leather gloves Valerius glanced around him. They were alone. “There has been an incident…”
Lycurgus held up a wrinkled hand. “Not now, we will talk in my personal chambers.”
The faint whir of a police siren interrupted their conversation. Valerius peered outside and saw a yellow Airsurfer hover car hurtling through the air with three police cars in close pursuit. The Airsurfer careened towards the hall and then pulled up suddenly, zooming over the roof. His glimpse of the driver confirmed his suspicions. A freckled teenager was manning the wheel, his blond head bobbing to the heavy beat of hip hop music.
Mar 26, 2010
sample pages -DIARY OF A HOT PINK PARTY GIRL
I should have known Drew Strunkler, Skunkler, would morph into a big, giant douche bag the second school started. Like I was just some fly he could flick right off his shoulder. I mean, seriously, the guy wasn’t even capable of intelligent thought.
As if to prove my point, he was trying to kick a football over the roof of the school building with his other brainless jock friends.
I tugged at the collar of my shirt, feeling the heat creep all the way up to my face. Ugh! Did my eyes actually light up when I saw him? It didn’t matter because Drew Strunkler was too busy winning a bet. I wonder which pinhead will have to moon poor Mrs. Elkin, the librarian.
“The book lady’s gonna get another piece of ass today, huh?”
Alex Stoner slid into the bench beside me and I turned to him and laughed. “You would think she’d wear a blindfold by now, with all the butt cracks she’s had flashed in front of her.”
We watched Drew back up, his face tight with concentration. The broad and brawny William Peckman (aka – Pecker), with his tiny head and giant body held the football upright in the grass by his fingertips. A guy that huge had to be covering some other insecurity, like a small penis.
With a graceful swing of his leg, Drew’s foot made perfect contact with the ball and it sailed over the roof.
“Damn,” Pecker muttered.
Drew punched him in the arm, laughing like the stupid-ass idiot he was. “Somebody’s dropping his pants today.”
And just like that, his eyes turned in my direction and paused.
“Tawny,” Alex whispered. “Did Strunkler just look at you?”
I shrugged, but my heart was pounding. “Yeah, for about a quarter of a second.”
Alex flipped back the mop of dark, curly hair falling in his eyes. “Looked like he was checking you out.”
“Like I care. Let’s go inside, its five minutes till homeroom.” I was nearly twenty feet away before I realized Alex wasn’t following. He stood in the middle of the grass gaping at me like an imbecile. “What?”
He shook his head and grinned. “Sorry, I’m still not used to the good Tawny. The one who actually cares about being on time.”
“I’ve been here all summer. Caring about school has become an annoying habit.” I reached for the door, but another hand beat me to it. Both Alex and I jumped back as Drew Strunkler flung the door open. His gaze went straight over my head and then he turned quickly and raced into the school building before us.
“So rude,” Alex said.
I sucked in a breath wishing I was less observant. The way his eyes conveniently traveled over my head when we should have been face-to-face. It was intentional. He planned to ignore me on the first day of school.
I groaned. It sucks to care.
Alex and I headed to my locker when Mr. Feldman the vice principal jumped in front of us, blocking my way. “Miss Childers, I see an entire summer hasn’t knocked some sense into you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I responded.
Alex snorted back laughter and I jabbed my elbow into his side.
Mr. Feldman shoved his glasses further up his nose and returned to crossing his arms. “I’m referring to your blatant disregard for school dress code.”
He picked up a lock of my blonde hair, the chunk with the pink streak and tugged on it. I jerked away from his touch. “Actually, I decided to make it permanent over the summer.”
“Detention, today after school,” he growled.
“I’d die before I missed spending an afternoon with you.” We ran around him and blended in with the mob of students, all dressed in navy and khaki, flooding the halls.
***
By the time I collapsed into my seat for study hall it was apparent that junior year was going to be a much bigger pill to swallow than last year. And to top it off, Drew Strunkler and Pecker sat right behind me.
Damn!
I pulled out a magazine and lifted my black boots onto the table, relieved to have forty minutes of peace before yet another mind-numbing class.
“Hey Strunk, listen to this,” Pecker said to Drew from behind me.
I glanced under my arm and saw his cell phone lay on his lap.
“Hey everyone and happy first day of school,” Pecker read aloud. “Hot Pink Party girl has had one busy summer. Do you realize how many guys are willing to get to second base while completely loaded? Yeah, pretty much all of them. Okay, so one turned me down and I had to listen to him yap and quote biblical scripture for twenty tortuous minutes. If that doesn’t put out your fire, I don’t know what does. My summer total was over fifty guys and let me tell you I’ve seen more little firemen (some smaller than others) in three months than I thought possible-”
“Quiet Mr. Peckman! This is study hall!” the teacher shouted from the front of the large lecture hall.
“Dude, this chick sounds so hot. I’d love to nail her,” Pecker whispered to Drew.
They both chuckled and I turned a little, lowering my copy of National Geographic just enough to lift one eyebrow in Drew’s direction.
A silent warning.
His smile faded and he dropped his gaze to the Algebra book in front of him. I stifled a laugh. That’s right, be afraid, be very afraid ‘cause I know all your secrets Drew Strunkler. All your virgin secrets.
***
“You do realize I won’t budge on school dress code,” Mr. Feldman said to me as I walked into detention.
“She knows,” Alex said.
I grinned at him. “How did you end up in here?”
“What are friends for? Couldn’t leave you all by yourself.”
In other words, he wasn’t going to tell me in front of Mr. Feldman. We moved to the back of the room and scooted our desks closer together.
“Okay, so I was in the locker room changing after gym class.” Alex made a face. Hand eye coordination was not something he’d been blessed with so gym was torture for a kid like him. “Anyway, Strunkler and what’s that dude’s name? The one that hikes the ball to the thrower guy?”
I laughed. Alex had only been at West Montgomery High for a year and didn’t know everyone’s name like I did. Nor did he have any knowledge of football. “You’re talking about the center and his name is Patrick Johnson.”
“Right, Strunkler and Johnson were tossing towels over the lockers and they still hadn’t changed yet out of their gym clothes. Johnson was being an ass, shoving all the freshman midgets out of his way and so I just snatched his clothes off the bench when he wasn’t looking and tossed them in an open locker.”
“You didn’t!”
He nodded proudly. “It was an unassigned locker and since we’ve got those built in locks, he had to go out of the changing room in a towel to Coach Strunkler’s office to have him look up the combination.”
I busted out laughing and Mr. Feldman glared in our direction. “Alex, you are far braver than I ever gave you credit for.”
He beamed. “It was a shining moment.”
“Yeah, just like winning an Olympic medal.” I lowered my voice. “So you have Coach Strunkler for P.E.?”
“Yeah, why?”
“So Drew’s in his dad’s class?”
“Hey, if it isn’t the legend, Tawny Childers.”
I spun in my chair to face the wild haired boy. “Lenny, I thought you were dropping out.”
“My parents say they’ll keep making my car payments if I pass most of my classes.”
“Cool,” I said.
“You missed an awesome party last night,” Lenny said.
“Why don’t you fill me in,” I said.
His face broke into vacant, “I’m drunk off my ass,” stupid grin that hadn’t changed in two years. Mostly because Lenny hadn’t changed. “Well, my brother pulled through and got us a keg. Razor’s band played and they were so on fire. This chick they’ve got singing for them is like . . . mega hot.”
I listened intently for at least ten minutes, absorbing every detail of that party. The old Tawny’s life. The one I still struggled to shed.
“It was a damn good party,” Alex said. “A lot of people asked about you.”
Lenny leaned his head closer to me and Alex. “I’ve got a massive bottle of Jack Daniels in the back of my car. You guys want to drive out to the lake after this school shit is over?”
Alex looked at me and shrugged, but I shook my head. “I’ve got a meeting.”
“Bummer. Sucks to be you, all academic and committed. How do you survive?” Lenny asked.
I rolled my eyes. “People survive one school day without getting loaded. I’m not a freakin’ saint or anything.”
Lenny put a hand over his heart. “You’re my hero, Tawny.”
Feldman was glaring again so Lenny turned back to the open text book on his desk. He raised it up a little and slipped a copy of Hustler inside. So predictable.
Alex nudged me in the shoulder. “You’re still doing that group thing?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“All summer, while I was gone?”
“Yes.” I blew the hair off my face, trying to give off the leave-me-alone-vibe.
“Don’t they have bring a friend day or something?”
“Why would they have that? And why are you so curious all of a sudden?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like this big part of your life and you could be at a strip club for all I know.”
“Why would I be at a strip club?”
“Quit answering my questions with a question. At least tell me where it is.”
This was a joke to him. It was last year and it still is. “You know I can’t do that.”
“What if I needed to join? Is anybody I know in your group?”
I turned my eyes away from him and pulled out one of the many thick textbooks taking up space in my bag. “You don’t need to go. And there’s no one you know.”
“Whatever,” he said.
He was pissed. But even if I wanted to tell him, I couldn’t.
As if to prove my point, he was trying to kick a football over the roof of the school building with his other brainless jock friends.
I tugged at the collar of my shirt, feeling the heat creep all the way up to my face. Ugh! Did my eyes actually light up when I saw him? It didn’t matter because Drew Strunkler was too busy winning a bet. I wonder which pinhead will have to moon poor Mrs. Elkin, the librarian.
“The book lady’s gonna get another piece of ass today, huh?”
Alex Stoner slid into the bench beside me and I turned to him and laughed. “You would think she’d wear a blindfold by now, with all the butt cracks she’s had flashed in front of her.”
We watched Drew back up, his face tight with concentration. The broad and brawny William Peckman (aka – Pecker), with his tiny head and giant body held the football upright in the grass by his fingertips. A guy that huge had to be covering some other insecurity, like a small penis.
With a graceful swing of his leg, Drew’s foot made perfect contact with the ball and it sailed over the roof.
“Damn,” Pecker muttered.
Drew punched him in the arm, laughing like the stupid-ass idiot he was. “Somebody’s dropping his pants today.”
And just like that, his eyes turned in my direction and paused.
“Tawny,” Alex whispered. “Did Strunkler just look at you?”
I shrugged, but my heart was pounding. “Yeah, for about a quarter of a second.”
Alex flipped back the mop of dark, curly hair falling in his eyes. “Looked like he was checking you out.”
“Like I care. Let’s go inside, its five minutes till homeroom.” I was nearly twenty feet away before I realized Alex wasn’t following. He stood in the middle of the grass gaping at me like an imbecile. “What?”
He shook his head and grinned. “Sorry, I’m still not used to the good Tawny. The one who actually cares about being on time.”
“I’ve been here all summer. Caring about school has become an annoying habit.” I reached for the door, but another hand beat me to it. Both Alex and I jumped back as Drew Strunkler flung the door open. His gaze went straight over my head and then he turned quickly and raced into the school building before us.
“So rude,” Alex said.
I sucked in a breath wishing I was less observant. The way his eyes conveniently traveled over my head when we should have been face-to-face. It was intentional. He planned to ignore me on the first day of school.
I groaned. It sucks to care.
Alex and I headed to my locker when Mr. Feldman the vice principal jumped in front of us, blocking my way. “Miss Childers, I see an entire summer hasn’t knocked some sense into you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I responded.
Alex snorted back laughter and I jabbed my elbow into his side.
Mr. Feldman shoved his glasses further up his nose and returned to crossing his arms. “I’m referring to your blatant disregard for school dress code.”
He picked up a lock of my blonde hair, the chunk with the pink streak and tugged on it. I jerked away from his touch. “Actually, I decided to make it permanent over the summer.”
“Detention, today after school,” he growled.
“I’d die before I missed spending an afternoon with you.” We ran around him and blended in with the mob of students, all dressed in navy and khaki, flooding the halls.
***
By the time I collapsed into my seat for study hall it was apparent that junior year was going to be a much bigger pill to swallow than last year. And to top it off, Drew Strunkler and Pecker sat right behind me.
Damn!
I pulled out a magazine and lifted my black boots onto the table, relieved to have forty minutes of peace before yet another mind-numbing class.
“Hey Strunk, listen to this,” Pecker said to Drew from behind me.
I glanced under my arm and saw his cell phone lay on his lap.
“Hey everyone and happy first day of school,” Pecker read aloud. “Hot Pink Party girl has had one busy summer. Do you realize how many guys are willing to get to second base while completely loaded? Yeah, pretty much all of them. Okay, so one turned me down and I had to listen to him yap and quote biblical scripture for twenty tortuous minutes. If that doesn’t put out your fire, I don’t know what does. My summer total was over fifty guys and let me tell you I’ve seen more little firemen (some smaller than others) in three months than I thought possible-”
“Quiet Mr. Peckman! This is study hall!” the teacher shouted from the front of the large lecture hall.
“Dude, this chick sounds so hot. I’d love to nail her,” Pecker whispered to Drew.
They both chuckled and I turned a little, lowering my copy of National Geographic just enough to lift one eyebrow in Drew’s direction.
A silent warning.
His smile faded and he dropped his gaze to the Algebra book in front of him. I stifled a laugh. That’s right, be afraid, be very afraid ‘cause I know all your secrets Drew Strunkler. All your virgin secrets.
***
“You do realize I won’t budge on school dress code,” Mr. Feldman said to me as I walked into detention.
“She knows,” Alex said.
I grinned at him. “How did you end up in here?”
“What are friends for? Couldn’t leave you all by yourself.”
In other words, he wasn’t going to tell me in front of Mr. Feldman. We moved to the back of the room and scooted our desks closer together.
“Okay, so I was in the locker room changing after gym class.” Alex made a face. Hand eye coordination was not something he’d been blessed with so gym was torture for a kid like him. “Anyway, Strunkler and what’s that dude’s name? The one that hikes the ball to the thrower guy?”
I laughed. Alex had only been at West Montgomery High for a year and didn’t know everyone’s name like I did. Nor did he have any knowledge of football. “You’re talking about the center and his name is Patrick Johnson.”
“Right, Strunkler and Johnson were tossing towels over the lockers and they still hadn’t changed yet out of their gym clothes. Johnson was being an ass, shoving all the freshman midgets out of his way and so I just snatched his clothes off the bench when he wasn’t looking and tossed them in an open locker.”
“You didn’t!”
He nodded proudly. “It was an unassigned locker and since we’ve got those built in locks, he had to go out of the changing room in a towel to Coach Strunkler’s office to have him look up the combination.”
I busted out laughing and Mr. Feldman glared in our direction. “Alex, you are far braver than I ever gave you credit for.”
He beamed. “It was a shining moment.”
“Yeah, just like winning an Olympic medal.” I lowered my voice. “So you have Coach Strunkler for P.E.?”
“Yeah, why?”
“So Drew’s in his dad’s class?”
“Hey, if it isn’t the legend, Tawny Childers.”
I spun in my chair to face the wild haired boy. “Lenny, I thought you were dropping out.”
“My parents say they’ll keep making my car payments if I pass most of my classes.”
“Cool,” I said.
“You missed an awesome party last night,” Lenny said.
“Why don’t you fill me in,” I said.
His face broke into vacant, “I’m drunk off my ass,” stupid grin that hadn’t changed in two years. Mostly because Lenny hadn’t changed. “Well, my brother pulled through and got us a keg. Razor’s band played and they were so on fire. This chick they’ve got singing for them is like . . . mega hot.”
I listened intently for at least ten minutes, absorbing every detail of that party. The old Tawny’s life. The one I still struggled to shed.
“It was a damn good party,” Alex said. “A lot of people asked about you.”
Lenny leaned his head closer to me and Alex. “I’ve got a massive bottle of Jack Daniels in the back of my car. You guys want to drive out to the lake after this school shit is over?”
Alex looked at me and shrugged, but I shook my head. “I’ve got a meeting.”
“Bummer. Sucks to be you, all academic and committed. How do you survive?” Lenny asked.
I rolled my eyes. “People survive one school day without getting loaded. I’m not a freakin’ saint or anything.”
Lenny put a hand over his heart. “You’re my hero, Tawny.”
Feldman was glaring again so Lenny turned back to the open text book on his desk. He raised it up a little and slipped a copy of Hustler inside. So predictable.
Alex nudged me in the shoulder. “You’re still doing that group thing?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“All summer, while I was gone?”
“Yes.” I blew the hair off my face, trying to give off the leave-me-alone-vibe.
“Don’t they have bring a friend day or something?”
“Why would they have that? And why are you so curious all of a sudden?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s like this big part of your life and you could be at a strip club for all I know.”
“Why would I be at a strip club?”
“Quit answering my questions with a question. At least tell me where it is.”
This was a joke to him. It was last year and it still is. “You know I can’t do that.”
“What if I needed to join? Is anybody I know in your group?”
I turned my eyes away from him and pulled out one of the many thick textbooks taking up space in my bag. “You don’t need to go. And there’s no one you know.”
“Whatever,” he said.
He was pissed. But even if I wanted to tell him, I couldn’t.
Feb 7, 2010
Sample Pages- AM I WORTH IT?
Click here to read the first sample page submission.
Click here to read the second sample page submission.
Click here to read the most recent query.
*** Just a side note - its been a few months since I posted a revision of this story because I got really frustrated trying to revise what already existed. Finally I decided to tone down the MC and give him a little more mystery in the first chapter. I still don't know if its the right place to start but at least I'm no longer stuck.
I attempted suicide exactly once a day. Twice would be excessive. It would lose its value. I was starting to think it already had and I was starting to like it here.
Enjoying a blistering cold November in Chicago after spending my entire seventeen years in California was not part of my plan. I should hate my life right now, but I didn’t.
And it was so wrong for me to be happy.
I made my usual climb up the rocky wall. My hands numb from the cold wind, but the feeling was exhilarating. I couldn’t deny that. San Jose had such mild weather compared to this. The way the bitter cold steals your breathe, stings the tips of your fingers and toe. It was fascinating.
When I reached the top of the mound of giant rocks, I looked out at Lake Michigan spread before my eyes. It wasn’t California, but damn, it was beautiful. Even with the bite of a cold winter.
I closed my eyes and I was there again, with her. The girl I was sentenced to spend a lifetime with.
“Every weekend it’s the same fucking thing, get drunk and party, maybe hook up with some random girl. Don’t you ever get tired of it?” I glanced over at my friend, he wasn’t even listening. He was watching a group of girls dancing.
“Hey Dan, someone’s checking you out,” Trenton sang.
He handed me another shot glass of whiskey and pointed at a short girl with dark hair across the room.
“What’s her name, Hailey or something?”I asked.
Trenton laughed and shook his head.”How many shots have you had? You never forget anyone’s name.”
“Six shots . . .Hannah,” I remembered.
He moved beside me leaning against the counter. “What do you say? I don’t think you’d have any trouble getting in that girls’ pants. She totally wants you.”
I laughed and my head spun even more. “You’re such an ass, Trent. If I were a chick there would be a warning label tattooed across your forehead, I’d make sure of that.”
“We can’t all be as God damn charming as you,” he said.
I rested my head in my hands massaging my temples, wishing I hadn’t drank so much. Exactly thirty seconds later, I got a whiff of perfume.
“Hannah Fuentes,” I said, without lifting my head.
“Dan Anderson,” she answered, giggling.
One strike against her already. Giggling girls were a little bit of a turn off for me, or maybe they just seemed fake, rehearsed.
“So you remember me?” she asked.
I lifted my head meeting her brown eyes. “Yes, we had Biology Freshman year. You sat in the third table on the window side of the room next to Byron Silverman.”
Her face lit up with a look of excitement- possibilities.
I cursed myself silently. Now she was going to think I spent the past two years dreaming about watching her bend over to pull a pencil out of her bag or something.
“See what I mean? God damn charming,” Trent muttered, as he walked away.
“You want to dance?” she asked.
Damn! Why didn’t I go home early like a good little Senator’s son? “Okay.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the middle of the giant living room with the rest of the drunken upper classman. The music was fast and loud, the beat, the lights, my spinning head, none of it allowed me to think clearly and I knew this wouldn’t end well.
Then she was kissing me, her tongue dancing around in my mouth. It wasn’t a bad kiss, but it wasn’t love.
And it should be.
The vibration coming from my pocket shook me out of this morning ritual. My pounding heart slowed just a little before I flipped open the phone.
“Hi Steve.”
“Dan, where are you? I got up at five thirty and you were gone. Did you go out last night?” he asked, putting on his concerned uncle hat.
“Do I ever go out?”
“No . . .well anyway, I have a favor to ask.”
I groaned more out of habit than real distress.
“It’ll get you out of first period,” he taunted.
“Alright.”
I sighed and start to climb down.
Not today. I was still a fucking coward. Again.
***
I walked in to the audio visual room a few minutes late. A blond haired woman stood in front of the T.V. with a notebook and a pen. She was the only one in the room.
“Are you Christian?” I asked.
She continued to stare at the T.V. “No, I’m atheist. My parents are Catholic.”
I laughed. “Okay, and you don’t have a French accent either.”
“Nope sorry, but I could give it a shot.”
I walked over and stood beside her, looking at the T.V.
“Damn, I thought we had it locked up.” She shook her head at the giant robot still intact and gloating after demolishing the other one in the ring.
I examined the screen a little more closely. “What materials are you using on the outside?”
She didn’t get to answer because a girl came skidding in the room, flustered and pink in the face. “Are you Christian?”
The woman next to me laughed. “This is still the audio visual room, isn’t it?”
The frantic girl put her hands in her face and moaned. “Oh God! He’s probably wandering around the school without a clue where to go.”
“You must be Claire Ramsey. The girl who’s battery died,” I said.
She looked up at me and I found myself staring a little too long at her green eyes. The genetic improbability of green eyes was so fascinating. Plus, she was gorgeous and something about her was different . . . honest maybe.
A virgin. She had to be a virgin.
“How did you know my name?” she asked.
“I was supposed to be your replacement, but if you’re here then my work is done.” I started to walk toward the door and she grabbed my arm.
"Wait, I’m not sure I can do this?” She bit her lower lip nervously.
“Do what?” I asked smiling because it wasn’t surgery or anything life or death.
“Translate.” She shook her head. “What if he uses slang or something not in my third year text book?”
The honest concern that filled her voice was so endearing. “Okay, I’ll stick around.”
This is bad Dan, resist the guilty pleasure. You’re already living with a girl. When I looked at Claire’s face again, I knew I couldn’t be an ass and leave her hanging, but I wouldn’t get personal either. Ever again. I committed myself for life to someone else. It was marriage in the worst sense.
Click here to read the second sample page submission.
Click here to read the most recent query.
*** Just a side note - its been a few months since I posted a revision of this story because I got really frustrated trying to revise what already existed. Finally I decided to tone down the MC and give him a little more mystery in the first chapter. I still don't know if its the right place to start but at least I'm no longer stuck.
I attempted suicide exactly once a day. Twice would be excessive. It would lose its value. I was starting to think it already had and I was starting to like it here.
Enjoying a blistering cold November in Chicago after spending my entire seventeen years in California was not part of my plan. I should hate my life right now, but I didn’t.
And it was so wrong for me to be happy.
I made my usual climb up the rocky wall. My hands numb from the cold wind, but the feeling was exhilarating. I couldn’t deny that. San Jose had such mild weather compared to this. The way the bitter cold steals your breathe, stings the tips of your fingers and toe. It was fascinating.
When I reached the top of the mound of giant rocks, I looked out at Lake Michigan spread before my eyes. It wasn’t California, but damn, it was beautiful. Even with the bite of a cold winter.
I closed my eyes and I was there again, with her. The girl I was sentenced to spend a lifetime with.
“Every weekend it’s the same fucking thing, get drunk and party, maybe hook up with some random girl. Don’t you ever get tired of it?” I glanced over at my friend, he wasn’t even listening. He was watching a group of girls dancing.
“Hey Dan, someone’s checking you out,” Trenton sang.
He handed me another shot glass of whiskey and pointed at a short girl with dark hair across the room.
“What’s her name, Hailey or something?”I asked.
Trenton laughed and shook his head.”How many shots have you had? You never forget anyone’s name.”
“Six shots . . .Hannah,” I remembered.
He moved beside me leaning against the counter. “What do you say? I don’t think you’d have any trouble getting in that girls’ pants. She totally wants you.”
I laughed and my head spun even more. “You’re such an ass, Trent. If I were a chick there would be a warning label tattooed across your forehead, I’d make sure of that.”
“We can’t all be as God damn charming as you,” he said.
I rested my head in my hands massaging my temples, wishing I hadn’t drank so much. Exactly thirty seconds later, I got a whiff of perfume.
“Hannah Fuentes,” I said, without lifting my head.
“Dan Anderson,” she answered, giggling.
One strike against her already. Giggling girls were a little bit of a turn off for me, or maybe they just seemed fake, rehearsed.
“So you remember me?” she asked.
I lifted my head meeting her brown eyes. “Yes, we had Biology Freshman year. You sat in the third table on the window side of the room next to Byron Silverman.”
Her face lit up with a look of excitement- possibilities.
I cursed myself silently. Now she was going to think I spent the past two years dreaming about watching her bend over to pull a pencil out of her bag or something.
“See what I mean? God damn charming,” Trent muttered, as he walked away.
“You want to dance?” she asked.
Damn! Why didn’t I go home early like a good little Senator’s son? “Okay.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the middle of the giant living room with the rest of the drunken upper classman. The music was fast and loud, the beat, the lights, my spinning head, none of it allowed me to think clearly and I knew this wouldn’t end well.
Then she was kissing me, her tongue dancing around in my mouth. It wasn’t a bad kiss, but it wasn’t love.
And it should be.
The vibration coming from my pocket shook me out of this morning ritual. My pounding heart slowed just a little before I flipped open the phone.
“Hi Steve.”
“Dan, where are you? I got up at five thirty and you were gone. Did you go out last night?” he asked, putting on his concerned uncle hat.
“Do I ever go out?”
“No . . .well anyway, I have a favor to ask.”
I groaned more out of habit than real distress.
“It’ll get you out of first period,” he taunted.
“Alright.”
I sighed and start to climb down.
Not today. I was still a fucking coward. Again.
***
I walked in to the audio visual room a few minutes late. A blond haired woman stood in front of the T.V. with a notebook and a pen. She was the only one in the room.
“Are you Christian?” I asked.
She continued to stare at the T.V. “No, I’m atheist. My parents are Catholic.”
I laughed. “Okay, and you don’t have a French accent either.”
“Nope sorry, but I could give it a shot.”
I walked over and stood beside her, looking at the T.V.
“Damn, I thought we had it locked up.” She shook her head at the giant robot still intact and gloating after demolishing the other one in the ring.
I examined the screen a little more closely. “What materials are you using on the outside?”
She didn’t get to answer because a girl came skidding in the room, flustered and pink in the face. “Are you Christian?”
The woman next to me laughed. “This is still the audio visual room, isn’t it?”
The frantic girl put her hands in her face and moaned. “Oh God! He’s probably wandering around the school without a clue where to go.”
“You must be Claire Ramsey. The girl who’s battery died,” I said.
She looked up at me and I found myself staring a little too long at her green eyes. The genetic improbability of green eyes was so fascinating. Plus, she was gorgeous and something about her was different . . . honest maybe.
A virgin. She had to be a virgin.
“How did you know my name?” she asked.
“I was supposed to be your replacement, but if you’re here then my work is done.” I started to walk toward the door and she grabbed my arm.
"Wait, I’m not sure I can do this?” She bit her lower lip nervously.
“Do what?” I asked smiling because it wasn’t surgery or anything life or death.
“Translate.” She shook her head. “What if he uses slang or something not in my third year text book?”
The honest concern that filled her voice was so endearing. “Okay, I’ll stick around.”
This is bad Dan, resist the guilty pleasure. You’re already living with a girl. When I looked at Claire’s face again, I knew I couldn’t be an ass and leave her hanging, but I wouldn’t get personal either. Ever again. I committed myself for life to someone else. It was marriage in the worst sense.
Feb 2, 2010
Sample Pages- THE ELEANOR STORY (revision 1)
Click here to read the query.
Click here to read the original sample pages.
Chapter 1
Memories can stick like a tongue to a frosty pole in the middle of winter. Pulling and tugging to break free will only dismember the delicate skin leaving it raw and exposed.
I remember the exact day the spot light turned on me. And by spot-light, I don’t mean me slipping on a pair of tap shoes and performing an excerpt from a Broadway musical. More like I was standing naked with my classmates staring me down, memorizing every detail.
Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but seriously, it was bad.
Sister Clarisse calls it adolescence or puberty, but I call it exposure. The time when every girl’s self-esteem is mutilated, dismembered. For me, my moment of exposure happened at the beginning of eighth grade.
“What do you think we’ll have to do?” Alison whispered to me that morning in homeroom.
I opened my bag and started pulling out books, throwing them on top of the desk. “I don’t know. Sister Clarisse didn’t give us any details.”
My nervous tone reflected the buzz of voices drifting through the classroom. Everyone was feeling it. Today was different. Of course when you’re my age, you can’t let anyone but your very best friends know the idea of watching The Movie was freakin’ scary. Yes, that’s right, Ellie Cummings was petrified of this official rite of passage into the teenage world, but never in a million years would I have guessed how much was about to change after watching The Movie. If I had known I probably would have faked an illness this morning and never left my house.
I hung my bag on the back of my chair and tugged at my green and navy pleated skirt. It was identical to the one Alison wore, but on her the required uniform was a fashion statement. Alison was already five foot five and growing constantly. Not in the gangly awkward way, but in the I’m-thirteen-but-the-ninth-grade-boys-all-snap-their-heads-in-my-direction way. Mostly because this summer she started growing things I didn’t have yet.
Don’t think I spend all my time obsessing over the bra size of my classmates, but it was the first week of school and everyone changed over the summer. Alison changed the most of all the girls and, of course, it didn’t go unnoticed. Me, well let’s just say I have the flattest chest in my entire class. This is not opinion based. It’s a fact. Even Freddie Livingston has bigger boobs than me. Seriously, he does. I cringe every time Freddie is on the “skins” team when the boys play basketball in the gym.
I was beginning to realize everything is more complicated in eighth grade. For starters, we moved to the high school wing with the ninth graders and switched classrooms every hour, bumping into them in the hallway. And if you’re unlucky like me, and scored high on your standardized testing you might even end up in a few classes with them. Talk about feeling like a puny little girl.
My other best friend Hailey leaned in close to me and Alison and whispered, “My sister told me they make everyone put condoms on oranges.”
Hailey’s sister is in tenth grade this year and entertains herself by giving Hailey a load of crap to see if she’ll believe it.
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t put condoms on oranges. Bananas maybe?”
Alison giggled beside me then put her hand over her mouth when Sister Janet glared in our direction. The nun always did this if anyone appeared to be enjoying homeroom.
Hailey’s forehead wrinkled, and I could tell she was going to give herself a head ache thinking this hard.
I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her down before whispering as quietly as possible, “Hailey we’re not going to put condoms on anything . This isn’t public school. Catholics stress abstinence, not birth control, meaning don’t do it, so there’s no reason to know how to use a condom.”
Her face relaxed.
Alison shook her head, eyes glued to the folder in her hands. “Ellie’s right.”
TJ, the cutest boy in our grade, strolled past us and we immediately jumped apart from our huddled girl talk.
TJ’s eyes fell on Alison. His cheeks blushed a little, and he hurried over to his desk.
“Did you see that,” Hailey squealed.
I clapped my hand over her mouth to shut her up. Alison threw me a grateful look. Last year we made a pact to never be those girls. The squealing ones who pretend they’re idiots and refuse to eat in front of boys. Hailey can’t help herself. She’s naturally ditzy and forgetful. It has nothing to do with male presence, so we still love her.
“My house after school,” Alison reminded us of our Friday tradition.
It was nothing more than hanging out, pigging out, making fun of the popular girls (the Pact to stay “squeal free” evolved from one of these sessions), and occasionally inventing stories about what the nuns really do after school (my personal favorite).
“Sarah’s coming. I called her last night,” Hailey said, referring to our other best friend in a different homeroom this year.
“Alright, everyone get your Math books out and start with the problems on page ten,” Sister Janet said. She narrowed her eyes at me, pointing one hand toward the door. Freddie and Dara zipped past, books tucked under their arms. I swallowed hard and threw Alison and Hailey a desperate look. Alison bit her lower lip and Hailey chewed on her thumb nail. They were the most supportive friends a girl could have, but they didn’t have to leave. I did. Day five of Algebra with the ninth graders had officially begun.
I grabbed my book and hurried after Freddie and Dara. My stomach did flip-flops while I made the long walk down the hall. But the pukey feeling was completely unrelated to the impending movie and everything to with the older kids (I’d start worrying about the movie again after Algebra). Being forced into their world, even if only for academic reasons would frightened the coolest of eighth graders (which I wasn’t). They didn’t want me there anymore than I wanted to be there.
Sister Janet says there’s always something to be grateful for- someone who was worse off. Whenever I sit in class behind the most popular ninth grade girl, April Jenson, it’s difficult to be grateful for anything God has blessed me with. But then I look over at Jenny Ludwig and give thanks that my mother doesn’t make me wear the little girl jumpers instead of the skirts. Seriously, she’s fourteen with a plaid jumper, white button down Peter Pan collar shirt, knee socks and black Mary Jane’s.
I. Kid. You. Not.
After glancing at Jenny the first day of school, I forced myself to look down at my socially acceptable skirt, navy school polo and Nike’s then I said: Yes, there is a God. I may not be April Jenson, but Sister Janet is right. It could be worse.
I took in a deep breath before entering the classroom, letting my eyes drop to stare at my shoes like I was examining them for dog crap stuck to the bottom. It’s an unspoken rule not to make eye contact with the ninth graders while on their turf (which I was). I slid into my seat and noticed Mrs. Halloway wasn’t in the room yet.
Frightening.
I was writing the date on the top of my notebook page when someone tapped me on the shoulder. My heart started pounding in my chest. It must be a trick. I wasn’t turning around just to have someone shove my finger up my nose and ask me if I’m digging for gold (this happened to Freddie yesterday, I felt terrible for him).
“Ellie, are you ignoring me?” a voice whispered in my ear.
A familiar voice. But it couldn’t be. I turned quickly in my seat and stared right into Justin’s green eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help asking.
He smiled. “It’s not an all girl’s school.”
I rolled my eyes. “You wish. But I thought you were going to George Washington?”
“My parents had me on the waiting list all summer. A spot opened up at the last minute.” He frowned and reached his hand toward my shirt and pulled off a cat hair. “Albert Einstein’s been rolling in your laundry basket again, hasn’t he?”
I laughed and pushed his hand away. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t know you were here. Plus I’m an eighth grader. I’ll probably get hung or lynched just for this little chat.”
I turned around then because Mrs. Halloway walked in to the room and I realized immediately several pairs of eyes were on me.
Spotlight number one. I wished more than anything this was the only one. It wasn’t.
My cheeks burned and I slid down in my seat hoping Mrs. Halloway would jump right in to complex equations. She did jump into the lesson but not the long boring lecture I hoped for. No, that would be lucky (which I wasn’t). And that would be reserved for traditional teachers (which Mrs. Halloway wasn’t).
Today we were doing a hands-on project- calculating angles of large objects outside using Algebraic and geometric formulas. So when she started to partner us up I glanced hopefully at Dara, even Freddie would do. Eighth graders needed to stick together, but instead I get-
“April Jenson,” Mrs. Halloway said.
April stood and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder.
Mrs. Halloway looked down at her clip board. “April your partner will be, Eleanor Cummings.”
My face turned even redder and I ducked down pretending to pick up something from the floor.
“Eleanor Cummings,” Mrs. Halloway spoke with such authority I jerked up quickly banging my head on the desk, hard.
I stood feeling the burn of everyone’s eyes.
Spotlight number two.
Mrs. Halloway was new and didn’t know name’s yet. She was just reading off the roster and the damage she caused was completely unintentional.
I heard Justin laugh a little under his breath and mutter, “Eleanor.”
I had been Ellie Cummings since preschool. Like every other day, I walked in as Ellie. But today, I left as Eleanor and today of all days Eleanor was the absolute worst name to have.
Click here to read the original sample pages.
Chapter 1
Memories can stick like a tongue to a frosty pole in the middle of winter. Pulling and tugging to break free will only dismember the delicate skin leaving it raw and exposed.
I remember the exact day the spot light turned on me. And by spot-light, I don’t mean me slipping on a pair of tap shoes and performing an excerpt from a Broadway musical. More like I was standing naked with my classmates staring me down, memorizing every detail.
Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but seriously, it was bad.
Sister Clarisse calls it adolescence or puberty, but I call it exposure. The time when every girl’s self-esteem is mutilated, dismembered. For me, my moment of exposure happened at the beginning of eighth grade.
“What do you think we’ll have to do?” Alison whispered to me that morning in homeroom.
I opened my bag and started pulling out books, throwing them on top of the desk. “I don’t know. Sister Clarisse didn’t give us any details.”
My nervous tone reflected the buzz of voices drifting through the classroom. Everyone was feeling it. Today was different. Of course when you’re my age, you can’t let anyone but your very best friends know the idea of watching The Movie was freakin’ scary. Yes, that’s right, Ellie Cummings was petrified of this official rite of passage into the teenage world, but never in a million years would I have guessed how much was about to change after watching The Movie. If I had known I probably would have faked an illness this morning and never left my house.
I hung my bag on the back of my chair and tugged at my green and navy pleated skirt. It was identical to the one Alison wore, but on her the required uniform was a fashion statement. Alison was already five foot five and growing constantly. Not in the gangly awkward way, but in the I’m-thirteen-but-the-ninth-grade-boys-all-snap-their-heads-in-my-direction way. Mostly because this summer she started growing things I didn’t have yet.
Don’t think I spend all my time obsessing over the bra size of my classmates, but it was the first week of school and everyone changed over the summer. Alison changed the most of all the girls and, of course, it didn’t go unnoticed. Me, well let’s just say I have the flattest chest in my entire class. This is not opinion based. It’s a fact. Even Freddie Livingston has bigger boobs than me. Seriously, he does. I cringe every time Freddie is on the “skins” team when the boys play basketball in the gym.
I was beginning to realize everything is more complicated in eighth grade. For starters, we moved to the high school wing with the ninth graders and switched classrooms every hour, bumping into them in the hallway. And if you’re unlucky like me, and scored high on your standardized testing you might even end up in a few classes with them. Talk about feeling like a puny little girl.
My other best friend Hailey leaned in close to me and Alison and whispered, “My sister told me they make everyone put condoms on oranges.”
Hailey’s sister is in tenth grade this year and entertains herself by giving Hailey a load of crap to see if she’ll believe it.
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t put condoms on oranges. Bananas maybe?”
Alison giggled beside me then put her hand over her mouth when Sister Janet glared in our direction. The nun always did this if anyone appeared to be enjoying homeroom.
Hailey’s forehead wrinkled, and I could tell she was going to give herself a head ache thinking this hard.
I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her down before whispering as quietly as possible, “Hailey we’re not going to put condoms on anything . This isn’t public school. Catholics stress abstinence, not birth control, meaning don’t do it, so there’s no reason to know how to use a condom.”
Her face relaxed.
Alison shook her head, eyes glued to the folder in her hands. “Ellie’s right.”
TJ, the cutest boy in our grade, strolled past us and we immediately jumped apart from our huddled girl talk.
TJ’s eyes fell on Alison. His cheeks blushed a little, and he hurried over to his desk.
“Did you see that,” Hailey squealed.
I clapped my hand over her mouth to shut her up. Alison threw me a grateful look. Last year we made a pact to never be those girls. The squealing ones who pretend they’re idiots and refuse to eat in front of boys. Hailey can’t help herself. She’s naturally ditzy and forgetful. It has nothing to do with male presence, so we still love her.
“My house after school,” Alison reminded us of our Friday tradition.
It was nothing more than hanging out, pigging out, making fun of the popular girls (the Pact to stay “squeal free” evolved from one of these sessions), and occasionally inventing stories about what the nuns really do after school (my personal favorite).
“Sarah’s coming. I called her last night,” Hailey said, referring to our other best friend in a different homeroom this year.
“Alright, everyone get your Math books out and start with the problems on page ten,” Sister Janet said. She narrowed her eyes at me, pointing one hand toward the door. Freddie and Dara zipped past, books tucked under their arms. I swallowed hard and threw Alison and Hailey a desperate look. Alison bit her lower lip and Hailey chewed on her thumb nail. They were the most supportive friends a girl could have, but they didn’t have to leave. I did. Day five of Algebra with the ninth graders had officially begun.
I grabbed my book and hurried after Freddie and Dara. My stomach did flip-flops while I made the long walk down the hall. But the pukey feeling was completely unrelated to the impending movie and everything to with the older kids (I’d start worrying about the movie again after Algebra). Being forced into their world, even if only for academic reasons would frightened the coolest of eighth graders (which I wasn’t). They didn’t want me there anymore than I wanted to be there.
Sister Janet says there’s always something to be grateful for- someone who was worse off. Whenever I sit in class behind the most popular ninth grade girl, April Jenson, it’s difficult to be grateful for anything God has blessed me with. But then I look over at Jenny Ludwig and give thanks that my mother doesn’t make me wear the little girl jumpers instead of the skirts. Seriously, she’s fourteen with a plaid jumper, white button down Peter Pan collar shirt, knee socks and black Mary Jane’s.
I. Kid. You. Not.
After glancing at Jenny the first day of school, I forced myself to look down at my socially acceptable skirt, navy school polo and Nike’s then I said: Yes, there is a God. I may not be April Jenson, but Sister Janet is right. It could be worse.
I took in a deep breath before entering the classroom, letting my eyes drop to stare at my shoes like I was examining them for dog crap stuck to the bottom. It’s an unspoken rule not to make eye contact with the ninth graders while on their turf (which I was). I slid into my seat and noticed Mrs. Halloway wasn’t in the room yet.
Frightening.
I was writing the date on the top of my notebook page when someone tapped me on the shoulder. My heart started pounding in my chest. It must be a trick. I wasn’t turning around just to have someone shove my finger up my nose and ask me if I’m digging for gold (this happened to Freddie yesterday, I felt terrible for him).
“Ellie, are you ignoring me?” a voice whispered in my ear.
A familiar voice. But it couldn’t be. I turned quickly in my seat and stared right into Justin’s green eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help asking.
He smiled. “It’s not an all girl’s school.”
I rolled my eyes. “You wish. But I thought you were going to George Washington?”
“My parents had me on the waiting list all summer. A spot opened up at the last minute.” He frowned and reached his hand toward my shirt and pulled off a cat hair. “Albert Einstein’s been rolling in your laundry basket again, hasn’t he?”
I laughed and pushed his hand away. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t know you were here. Plus I’m an eighth grader. I’ll probably get hung or lynched just for this little chat.”
I turned around then because Mrs. Halloway walked in to the room and I realized immediately several pairs of eyes were on me.
Spotlight number one. I wished more than anything this was the only one. It wasn’t.
My cheeks burned and I slid down in my seat hoping Mrs. Halloway would jump right in to complex equations. She did jump into the lesson but not the long boring lecture I hoped for. No, that would be lucky (which I wasn’t). And that would be reserved for traditional teachers (which Mrs. Halloway wasn’t).
Today we were doing a hands-on project- calculating angles of large objects outside using Algebraic and geometric formulas. So when she started to partner us up I glanced hopefully at Dara, even Freddie would do. Eighth graders needed to stick together, but instead I get-
“April Jenson,” Mrs. Halloway said.
April stood and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder.
Mrs. Halloway looked down at her clip board. “April your partner will be, Eleanor Cummings.”
My face turned even redder and I ducked down pretending to pick up something from the floor.
“Eleanor Cummings,” Mrs. Halloway spoke with such authority I jerked up quickly banging my head on the desk, hard.
I stood feeling the burn of everyone’s eyes.
Spotlight number two.
Mrs. Halloway was new and didn’t know name’s yet. She was just reading off the roster and the damage she caused was completely unintentional.
I heard Justin laugh a little under his breath and mutter, “Eleanor.”
I had been Ellie Cummings since preschool. Like every other day, I walked in as Ellie. But today, I left as Eleanor and today of all days Eleanor was the absolute worst name to have.
Dec 15, 2009
Sample Pages - THE ELEANOR STORY - young adult
Memories can stick like a tongue to a frosty pole in the middle of winter. Pulling and tugging to break free will only dismember the delicate skin leaving it raw and exposed.
Exposed.
I remember the exact day the spot light turned on me and everyone noticed the quiet girl who barely ever spoke. And by spotlight, I don't mean me slipping on a pair of tap shoes and performing an excerpt from a Broadway musical. More like I was standing naked with my classmates running at me, a magnifying glass pressed to their eye. Okay, that's a bit dramatic, but seriously it was bad.
Sister Clarisse calls it adolescence or puberty, but I call it exposure and the time when every girl's self-esteem is mutilated, dismembered. For me, my moment of exposure happened at the
beginning of eighth grade.
"What do you think we'll have to do?" Alison whispered to me that morning before school.
I opened my bag and started pulling out books, throwing them on top of the desk. "I don't know. Sister Clarisse didn't give us any details."
My nervous tone reflected the buzz of voices drifting through the classroom. Everyone was feeling it. Today was different. Of course when you're my age, you can't let anyone but your very best friends know the idea of watching The Movie was freakin' scary. Yes, that's right, Ellie Cummings was petrified of this official rite of passage into the teenage world, but never in a million years would I have guessed how much was about to change from The Movie. If I had
known I probably would have faked an illness this morning and never left my house.
I hung my bag on the back of my chair and tugged at my green and navy pleated skirt. It was identical to the one Alison wore, but on her the required uniform was a fashion statement. Alison was already five foot five and growing constantly and not in the gangly awkward way, but in the
I'm-thirteen-but-the-ninth-grade-boys-all-snap-their-heads-in-my-direction way. Mostly because this summer she started growing things I didn't have yet. Well not a b-cup anyway.
Don't think I spend all my time obsessing over the bra size of my classmates, but it was the first week of school and everyone changed over the summer. Alison changed the most of all the
girls and of course it didn't go unnoticed. Me, well let's just say I have the flattest chest in my entire class. This is not opinion based. It's a fact. Even Freddie Livingston has bigger boobs than me. Seriously, he does. I cringe every time Freddie is on the "skins" team when the boys play basketball in the gym.
In just a few days of school I was beginning to realize everything is more complicated in eighth grade. For starters, we moved to the high school wing with the ninth graders and switched classrooms every hour, bumping into them in the hallway. My school messes with the entire genetics of high school by making ninth graders the dominating force and then moving them on to a new school as sophomores.
It's just wrong.
Of course I won't be complaining next year when I'm one of those ninth graders.
But if you're unlucky like me, and scored high on your standardized testing you might even end up in a few classes with them. Talk about feeling like a puny little girl.
My other best friend Hailey leaned in close to Alison and I before whispering, "My sister told me they make everyone put condoms on oranges."
Hailey's sister is in tenth grade this year and entertains herself by giving Hailey a load of crap to see if she'll believe it.
I rolled my eyes. "You don't put condoms on oranges, bananas maybe?"
Alison giggled beside me then put her hand over her mouth when Sister Janet glared in our direction. Hailey's forehead wrinkled and I could tell she was going to give herself a head ache thinking this hard.
I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her down before whispering as quietly as possible, "Hailey we're not going to put condoms on anything . This isn't public school. Catholics stress
abstinence, not birth control."
Her face relaxed.
Alison shook her head, eyes glued to the folder in her hands. "Ellie's right."
TJ the cutest boy in our grade strolled past us and we all three immediately jumped apart from our huddled girl talk.
TJ's eyes fell on Alison. His cheeks blushed a little, then he hurried over to his desk.
"Did you see that," Hailey squealed.
I clapped my hand over her mouth to shut her up. Alison threw me a grateful look. Last year we made a pact to never be those girls. The squealing ones who pretend their idiots and refuse to eat in front of boys. Hailey can't help herself. She's naturally ditzy and forgetful. It has nothing to do with male presence, so we still love her.
"My house after school," Alison reminded us of our Friday tradition which was nothing more than hanging out, pigging out, making fun of the popular girls (the Pact to stay 'squeal free' evolved from one of these sessions), and occasionally inventing stories about what the nuns really do after school (my personal favorite).
"Sarah and Claire are coming. I called them last night," Hailey said, referring to our other two best friends. They were in a different class this year.
"Alright everyone get your Math books out and start with the problems on page ten," Sister Janet said. She narrowed her eyes at me, inclining one hand toward the door. Freddie and Dara zipped past, books tucked under their arms.
I swallowed hard and threw Alison and Hailey a desperate look. Alison bit her lower lip and Hailey chewed on her thumb nail. They were the most supportive friends a girl could have, but they didn't have to leave. I did.
Day five of Algebra with the ninth graders had officially begun.
I grabbed my book and hurried after Freddie and Dara. My stomach did flip-flops while I made the long walk down the hall. But the barfy feeling was completely unrelated to the impending movie and everything to with the older kids. Being forced into their world, even if only for academic reasons would frightened the coolest of eighth graders (which I wasn't). They didn't want me there anymore than I wanted to be there. It was such a fun hour. Let me tell you.
Sister Janet says there's always something to be grateful for- someone who was worse off. Whenever I sit in class behind the most popular ninth grade girl April Jenson, it's difficult to be grateful for anything God has blessed me with. But then I look over at Jenny Ludwig and give thanks that my mother doesn't make me wear the little girl jumpers instead of the skirts. Seriously, she's fourteen with a plaid jumper, white button down Peter Pan collar shirt, knee socks and black Mary Jane's.
I. Kid. You. Not.
After glancing at Jenny the first day of school, I forced myself to look down at my socially acceptable skirt, navy school polo and Nike's then I said: Yes, there is a God! I may not be April Jenson, but Sister Janet is right. It could be worse.
I took in a deep breath before entering the classroom, letting my eyes drop to stare at my shoes like I was examining them for dog crap stuck to the bottom. It's an unspoken rule not to make eye contact with the ninth graders while on their turf (which I was). I slid into my seat and noticed Mrs. Halloway wasn't in the in the room yet. Frightening. I was writing the date on the top of my notebook page when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
My heart started pounding in my chest. It must be a trick. I wasn't turning around just to have someone shove my finger up my nose and ask me if I'm digging for gold (this happened to Freddie yesterday, I felt terrible for him).
"Ellie, are you ignoring me?" a voice whispered in my ear.
A familiar voice. But it couldn't be. I turned quickly in my seat and stared right into Justin's green eyes.
"What are you doing here?" I couldn't help asking.
He smiled. "It's not an all girl's school."
I rolled my eyes. "You wish. But I thought you were going to George Washington?"
"My parents had me on the waiting list all summer. A spot opened up at the last minute. I've been here for a week waiting for you to talk to me." He frowned and reached his hand toward my shirt and pulled off a cat hair. "Albert Einstein's been rolling in your laundry basket again, hasn't he?"
I laughed and pushed his hand away. "I wasn't ignoring you. I didn't know you were here. Plus I'm an eighth grader. I'll probably get hung or lynched just for this little chat."
I turned around then because Mrs. Halloway walked in to the room and I realized immediately several pairs of eyes were on me.
Spotlight number one. I wished more than anything this was the only one. It wasn't.
My cheeks burned and I slid down in my seat hoping Mrs. Halloway would jump right in to complex equations. She did jump into the lesson but not the long boring lecture I hoped for. No, that would be lucky (which I wasn't). And that would be reserved for traditional teachers
(which Mrs. Halloway wasn't).
Today we were doing a hands-on project- calculating angles of large objects outside using Algebraic and geometric formulas. So when she started to partner us up I glanced hopefully at Dara, even Freddie would do. Eighth graders needed to stick together, but instead I get-
"April Jenson," Mrs. Halloway said.
April stood and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder.
Mrs. Halloway looked down at her clip board. "April your partner will be, Eleanor Cummings."
My face turned even redder and I ducked down pretending to pick up something from the floor.
"Eleanor Cummings," Mrs. Halloway spoke with such authority I jerked up quickly banging my head on the desk, hard.
I stood feeling the burn of everyone's eyes.
Spotlight number two.
Mrs. Halloway was new and didn't know name's yet. She was just reading off the roster and the damage she caused was completely unintentional.
I heard Justin laugh a little under his breath and mutter, "Eleanor."
I had been Ellie Cummings since preschool. Like every other day, I walked in as Ellie. But today, I left as Eleanor and today of all days Eleanor was the absolute worst name to have.
Dec 1, 2009
Sample Pages - IN THE CLOUDS - Revisions 1
Click here to read the query.
I'm a fifteen year-old girl being followed everywhere by a forty-year old Algebra teacher. Sounds creepy, right? But not insane. At least that's the line I've been feeding myself over and over since last ight. I'm not crazy. Despite the fact that I can't stop glancing over my shoulder- checking if he's still there. It's like I have Tourette's or something.
But I have a real good excuse. Even better than teenage-girl-being-stalked-by-middle-age-male-teacher. The man walking two steps behind me right now, died yesterday morning. It fact, I witnessed his death.
And Mr. Schuster and I aren't exactly BFF's. He hates me. Or hated me. Not sure which to use. That's right, Alan Schuster is dead. He croaked. Bit the bullet. And yet I don't find any pleasure in his absence. BECAUSE HE'S STILL HERE! Only I can see him.
I must be special or cursed. I promise I'm not normally this insensitive. I even cried yesterday, but the guy is driving me nuts. He won't shut up. What does a girl like me do when her dead teacher is tailing her and giving long lectures on why she should shut off the TV and get some homework done? As if that were possible in my current mental state (aka – completely freaked!).
Here's what I did. I walked to school this morning and headed straight to the guidance counselor's office, where sanity has some kind of tangible measurement. In other words, he can tell me if I'm nuts. It was the only plan I could come up with after zero hours sleep and
several minutes spent googling the phrase, I see dead people.
The second I entered the school building, I turned and headed up the empty staircase leading to the third floor. I hadn't ever talked to Dr. Cooper, but I'd seen him in the halls and knew where his office was.
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Schuster asked in that sneering tone of his.
The sound made the already churning acid in my stomach move like the washer's spin cycle. This was much worse than our usual bonding time of forty-five minutes a day. It was twenty-four seven with that teacher. You know the one I'm talking about. Mine has geeky black
glasses, blonde hair combed to the side like a preschooler on the first day, he's about six foot four and a scowl is permanently embedded to his face. It travels all the way to his eyes.
Everybody who's been to high school can name the teacher they dreaded most. The one that caused them to slide down in their chair as low as possible praying they could go one day without being noticed. Now imagine taking that teacher home with you, and everywhere else.
After only twelve hours, I was nearly ready to check myself in to the psyche ward. Instead of heading to the nearest ER I opened my mouth. Not usually a good thing given my tendency to speak, then think. Normally, the outbursts of profanities were directed at rude boys in
gym class, never a teacher.
"Can't you just shut-up for five minutes?" I snapped. "It's bad enough I had to listen to you all night. I haven't slept more than a few hours in two days."
I couldn't look at him, but I'm sure his face had that twisted, angry, purple look to it.
Well, maybe not purple anymore.
I shook my head trying to focus on sanity. I needed sanity to get my questions answered. Otherwise who knows where I might end up? I knocked on the door of room 312 then I saw the note next to the door.
"In Meetings this morning. Will return after 10:00am."
My panic level rose quickly. This had been my only plan and nothing was solved. Going to class like everything was normal and ghosts weren't talking to me seemed like an impossible task. I headed quickly down the steps and crawled underneath the stair case on the second floor before the halls became too crowded. Before anyone saw me. It was my favorite hiding place and I couldn't go home to my big empty house with Schuster in tow. It was less eerie being surrounded
by people, even in hiding at least I knew they were there.
"Cutting class is against school policy," Schuster ranted on. His giant feet paced back and forth in front of the staircase. "You would never listen to a teacher would you Miss Rollings? Of course not. With that thick skull of yours I'm surprised you can make it through an entire school day without a handful of detentions."
I couldn't.
Maybe this was my punishment for being such an academic loser. The past two days my life had taken a small turn for the positive. I got a taste of success, but it was wrong to claim honesty when several incidents of lying and cheating were involved. Maybe it was karma.
Was this really what I deserved? Watching a man die right in front of my eyes, and being condemned to have that man's voice ringing in my ears.
I was there when it happened, the only one in the room. I shouldn't have been there. If I just let things go like usual and not allowed Matt to help, I wouldn't have been there that morning. Three days ago I dreaded walking in to this school building and facing Schuster alive, but now I would take that day over this one in a heartbeat. Everything started Monday morning. The root of my bad Karma.
I'm a fifteen year-old girl being followed everywhere by a forty-year old Algebra teacher. Sounds creepy, right? But not insane. At least that's the line I've been feeding myself over and over since last ight. I'm not crazy. Despite the fact that I can't stop glancing over my shoulder- checking if he's still there. It's like I have Tourette's or something.
But I have a real good excuse. Even better than teenage-girl-being-stalked-by-middle-age-male-teacher. The man walking two steps behind me right now, died yesterday morning. It fact, I witnessed his death.
And Mr. Schuster and I aren't exactly BFF's. He hates me. Or hated me. Not sure which to use. That's right, Alan Schuster is dead. He croaked. Bit the bullet. And yet I don't find any pleasure in his absence. BECAUSE HE'S STILL HERE! Only I can see him.
I must be special or cursed. I promise I'm not normally this insensitive. I even cried yesterday, but the guy is driving me nuts. He won't shut up. What does a girl like me do when her dead teacher is tailing her and giving long lectures on why she should shut off the TV and get some homework done? As if that were possible in my current mental state (aka – completely freaked!).
Here's what I did. I walked to school this morning and headed straight to the guidance counselor's office, where sanity has some kind of tangible measurement. In other words, he can tell me if I'm nuts. It was the only plan I could come up with after zero hours sleep and
several minutes spent googling the phrase, I see dead people.
The second I entered the school building, I turned and headed up the empty staircase leading to the third floor. I hadn't ever talked to Dr. Cooper, but I'd seen him in the halls and knew where his office was.
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Schuster asked in that sneering tone of his.
The sound made the already churning acid in my stomach move like the washer's spin cycle. This was much worse than our usual bonding time of forty-five minutes a day. It was twenty-four seven with that teacher. You know the one I'm talking about. Mine has geeky black
glasses, blonde hair combed to the side like a preschooler on the first day, he's about six foot four and a scowl is permanently embedded to his face. It travels all the way to his eyes.
Everybody who's been to high school can name the teacher they dreaded most. The one that caused them to slide down in their chair as low as possible praying they could go one day without being noticed. Now imagine taking that teacher home with you, and everywhere else.
After only twelve hours, I was nearly ready to check myself in to the psyche ward. Instead of heading to the nearest ER I opened my mouth. Not usually a good thing given my tendency to speak, then think. Normally, the outbursts of profanities were directed at rude boys in
gym class, never a teacher.
"Can't you just shut-up for five minutes?" I snapped. "It's bad enough I had to listen to you all night. I haven't slept more than a few hours in two days."
I couldn't look at him, but I'm sure his face had that twisted, angry, purple look to it.
Well, maybe not purple anymore.
I shook my head trying to focus on sanity. I needed sanity to get my questions answered. Otherwise who knows where I might end up? I knocked on the door of room 312 then I saw the note next to the door.
"In Meetings this morning. Will return after 10:00am."
My panic level rose quickly. This had been my only plan and nothing was solved. Going to class like everything was normal and ghosts weren't talking to me seemed like an impossible task. I headed quickly down the steps and crawled underneath the stair case on the second floor before the halls became too crowded. Before anyone saw me. It was my favorite hiding place and I couldn't go home to my big empty house with Schuster in tow. It was less eerie being surrounded
by people, even in hiding at least I knew they were there.
"Cutting class is against school policy," Schuster ranted on. His giant feet paced back and forth in front of the staircase. "You would never listen to a teacher would you Miss Rollings? Of course not. With that thick skull of yours I'm surprised you can make it through an entire school day without a handful of detentions."
I couldn't.
Maybe this was my punishment for being such an academic loser. The past two days my life had taken a small turn for the positive. I got a taste of success, but it was wrong to claim honesty when several incidents of lying and cheating were involved. Maybe it was karma.
Was this really what I deserved? Watching a man die right in front of my eyes, and being condemned to have that man's voice ringing in my ears.
I was there when it happened, the only one in the room. I shouldn't have been there. If I just let things go like usual and not allowed Matt to help, I wouldn't have been there that morning. Three days ago I dreaded walking in to this school building and facing Schuster alive, but now I would take that day over this one in a heartbeat. Everything started Monday morning. The root of my bad Karma.
Nov 15, 2009
Sample pages - In The Clouds - young adult
Sanity is overrated, and being followed everywhere by a forty-year old Algebra teacher surely wouldn't diminish my credibility as a member of the 'mentally stable,' except for the fact that I witnessed his death twenty-four hours ago.
"Mrs. Hendrix," I called to the dean. She was shuffling at top speed down the deserted hallway when I caught a glimpse of the back of her head. She turned quickly, her eyes darting around for the source beckoning her.
I ran past the long row of gray lockers.
"Miss Rollings, what are you going to tell her?" Schuster asked, his long legs easily keeping stride beside me.
I needed him to shut up before I went crazy. I screeched to a halt in front of the dean and she jumped when her eyes dropped down to see me standing right in front of her.
Her face relaxed into a small frown and she put a hand on my shoulder, "Jaycie, how are feeling today?"
The concern in her voice was the complete opposite of the sharp tone she had a couple days ago when I sat in her office accepting a handful of pink detention slips.
"Actually I wanted to ask you something." I had to catch my breath and force out a more casual tone, "I heard you tell Mrs. Lancer that I might be able to talk to someone about everything that happened."
She patted my shoulder and nodded her head, sympathetically, "The grief counselor."
"Yes." My eyes dropped to the floor.
"Of course, Jaycie. His name is Dr. Cooper and he's in room 312. You can go on up and I'll give him a call to let him know you're coming."
"Thanks." I finally lifted my eyes to meet hers.
She stepped closer and pulled me into a tight hug, my cheek pressed against her white blouse. She did this yesterday too. "Let me know if you need anything else Jaycie."
"Thanks, Mrs. Hendrix." She released me and I turned and headed up the empty staircase leading to the third floor.
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Schuster asked in that sneering tone of his. The sound made the already churning acid in my stomach move like the washer's spin cycle.
"It's bad enough I had to listen to you all night. I haven't slept more than a few hours in two days. Can't you just shut up for five minutes?" I snapped. I couldn't look at him but I'm sure his face had that twisted angry, purple look to it.
Well, maybe not purple anymore.
I shook my head trying to focus on sanity. I needed sanity to get my questions answered. Otherwise who knows where I might end up? I knocked on the door of room 312.
"Come in," a man's voice called.
I opened the door and saw Dr. Cooper hanging up his phone. I stepped inside the small office. Too bad I couldn't slam the door in Schuster's face.
It wouldn't do any good.
"Have a seat Jaycie." Dr. Cooper pointed a hand at the empty chair across from his desk.
I didn't slam the door, but I did make sure it was securely closed before I sat down. The last thing I needed was to have an eye witness account of me being in this office. I'm sure there were already hundreds of rumors flying around after yesterday's big event.
"How are you feeling, Jaycie?"
Dr. Cooper looked pretty young, maybe thirty something. Younger people are usually more open-minded. Maybe he could handle something far-fetched.
More like something crazy.
"I'm okay, well actually I'm a little freaked."
He nodded like Hendrix did, the sympathy filling his eyes, "I can imagine. What was your relationship with Mr. Schuster?"
"He's been my Algebra teacher this year and I was supposed to serve detention with him before school for the next two weeks."
My eyes darted to Schuster. He was scanning the row of books on the shelf against the wall.
"So what did you want to talk about, Jacycie?"
I took a deep breath. I needed to start with something normal, "I feel terrible about what happened to him and he was angry with me and I . . ."
"You feel guilty, responsible," he guessed.
"Signs of schizophrenia usually manifest in the teen years. Why don't you go ahead and tell him everything." Schuster gave me his Doctor Evil smile, "This man is a waste of tax dollars."
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to react, "Yeah I feel really guilty."
He reached across the desk and patted my hand, "It's survivors guilt. You did everything you could to help him."
"But going to his class today, it'll be so weird."
"Is that what's bothering you?" he asked.
I shook my head, dropping my eyes to my hands, "I keep thinking I'll see him again when I walk in the classroom. Does that ever happen?"
He released my hand and sat back in his chair, "Everyone who experiences death has that feeling of seeing the lost person again. Images or memories flood back."
"Like hearing them talk?" Uh oh, bad choice of words. I might as well have just admitted to hearing voices.
"Maybe, the full weight of death takes time to sink in. Part of your mind wants to put things back the way they were."
"What if I'm grieving so much that I can actually see Mr. Schuster, like in my bed room yelling at me to stop kicking the soccer ball against the wall?"
Verbal diarrhea rears its ugly head, and at the worst moment possible. Damn sleep deprivation!
He sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes, "Have you been sleeping much?"
"Actually I couldn't sleep at all last night," I admitted.
"Are you familiar with the word hallucination?" Dr. Cooper asked.
"You just earned yourself a ticket to the school psychologist, Miss Rollings. Can't say I didn't warn you," Schuster laughed and the sound echoed off the walls.
I wanted to scream loud enough to drown him out. I must be crazy, "Yes, I am."
"There are a number of reasons people see or hear things that aren't really there, lack of sleep being one of those. I'd like to set you up with an appointment with Mrs. Freeman. She's our school psychologist."
I groaned, but didn't protest. Maybe it was a good idea.
"Getting help during a difficult time is nothing to be ashamed of, Jaycie. I'll talk to Mrs. Freeman and see what she has available."
"Do you think I could go home and get some sleep maybe and try and talk to her tomorrow? I'm already feeling a little better."
He beamed obviously pleased he was able to help me, "Of course. You should definitely try and get some sleep."
I left his office with a polite goodbye and headed quickly down the steps and crawled underneath the stair case on the second floor. It was my favorite hiding place and I couldn't go home to my big empty house with Schuster in tow. It was less eerie being surrounded by people, even in hiding at least I knew they were there.
Matt must be worried about me. I hated to freak him out after he was so great yesterday. But I didn't want him to see me like this. I huddled with my knees to my chest and pulled out my phone to send him a text.
"Forgot I had a dentist appointment. Be in before lunch."
"I warned you about saying anything to Dr. Cooper," Schuster ranted on. I could see his giant feet pacing back and forth in front of the staircase, "You would never listen to a teacher would you Miss Rollings? Of course not. With that thick skull of yours I'm surprised you can make it through an entire school day without a handful of detentions."
I couldn't.
Maybe this was my punishment for being such an academic loser. The past two days my life had taken a small turn for the positive. I got a taste of success, but it was wrong to claim honesty when several incidents of lying and cheating were involved.
Was this really what I deserved? Watching a man die right in front of my eyes, and being condemned to have that man's voice ringing in my ears.
I was there when it happened, the only one in the room. I shouldn't have been there. If I just let things go like usual and not allowed Matt to help, I wouldn't have been there that morning. Three days ago I was dreading walking in to this school building and facing Schuster alive, but now I would take that day over this one in a heartbeat.
Everything started Monday morning. I should have pulled the covers over my head and never left my bedroom.
"Mrs. Hendrix," I called to the dean. She was shuffling at top speed down the deserted hallway when I caught a glimpse of the back of her head. She turned quickly, her eyes darting around for the source beckoning her.
I ran past the long row of gray lockers.
"Miss Rollings, what are you going to tell her?" Schuster asked, his long legs easily keeping stride beside me.
I needed him to shut up before I went crazy. I screeched to a halt in front of the dean and she jumped when her eyes dropped down to see me standing right in front of her.
Her face relaxed into a small frown and she put a hand on my shoulder, "Jaycie, how are feeling today?"
The concern in her voice was the complete opposite of the sharp tone she had a couple days ago when I sat in her office accepting a handful of pink detention slips.
"Actually I wanted to ask you something." I had to catch my breath and force out a more casual tone, "I heard you tell Mrs. Lancer that I might be able to talk to someone about everything that happened."
She patted my shoulder and nodded her head, sympathetically, "The grief counselor."
"Yes." My eyes dropped to the floor.
"Of course, Jaycie. His name is Dr. Cooper and he's in room 312. You can go on up and I'll give him a call to let him know you're coming."
"Thanks." I finally lifted my eyes to meet hers.
She stepped closer and pulled me into a tight hug, my cheek pressed against her white blouse. She did this yesterday too. "Let me know if you need anything else Jaycie."
"Thanks, Mrs. Hendrix." She released me and I turned and headed up the empty staircase leading to the third floor.
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Schuster asked in that sneering tone of his. The sound made the already churning acid in my stomach move like the washer's spin cycle.
"It's bad enough I had to listen to you all night. I haven't slept more than a few hours in two days. Can't you just shut up for five minutes?" I snapped. I couldn't look at him but I'm sure his face had that twisted angry, purple look to it.
Well, maybe not purple anymore.
I shook my head trying to focus on sanity. I needed sanity to get my questions answered. Otherwise who knows where I might end up? I knocked on the door of room 312.
"Come in," a man's voice called.
I opened the door and saw Dr. Cooper hanging up his phone. I stepped inside the small office. Too bad I couldn't slam the door in Schuster's face.
It wouldn't do any good.
"Have a seat Jaycie." Dr. Cooper pointed a hand at the empty chair across from his desk.
I didn't slam the door, but I did make sure it was securely closed before I sat down. The last thing I needed was to have an eye witness account of me being in this office. I'm sure there were already hundreds of rumors flying around after yesterday's big event.
"How are you feeling, Jaycie?"
Dr. Cooper looked pretty young, maybe thirty something. Younger people are usually more open-minded. Maybe he could handle something far-fetched.
More like something crazy.
"I'm okay, well actually I'm a little freaked."
He nodded like Hendrix did, the sympathy filling his eyes, "I can imagine. What was your relationship with Mr. Schuster?"
"He's been my Algebra teacher this year and I was supposed to serve detention with him before school for the next two weeks."
My eyes darted to Schuster. He was scanning the row of books on the shelf against the wall.
"So what did you want to talk about, Jacycie?"
I took a deep breath. I needed to start with something normal, "I feel terrible about what happened to him and he was angry with me and I . . ."
"You feel guilty, responsible," he guessed.
"Signs of schizophrenia usually manifest in the teen years. Why don't you go ahead and tell him everything." Schuster gave me his Doctor Evil smile, "This man is a waste of tax dollars."
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, forcing myself not to react, "Yeah I feel really guilty."
He reached across the desk and patted my hand, "It's survivors guilt. You did everything you could to help him."
"But going to his class today, it'll be so weird."
"Is that what's bothering you?" he asked.
I shook my head, dropping my eyes to my hands, "I keep thinking I'll see him again when I walk in the classroom. Does that ever happen?"
He released my hand and sat back in his chair, "Everyone who experiences death has that feeling of seeing the lost person again. Images or memories flood back."
"Like hearing them talk?" Uh oh, bad choice of words. I might as well have just admitted to hearing voices.
"Maybe, the full weight of death takes time to sink in. Part of your mind wants to put things back the way they were."
"What if I'm grieving so much that I can actually see Mr. Schuster, like in my bed room yelling at me to stop kicking the soccer ball against the wall?"
Verbal diarrhea rears its ugly head, and at the worst moment possible. Damn sleep deprivation!
He sat up straighter and narrowed his eyes, "Have you been sleeping much?"
"Actually I couldn't sleep at all last night," I admitted.
"Are you familiar with the word hallucination?" Dr. Cooper asked.
"You just earned yourself a ticket to the school psychologist, Miss Rollings. Can't say I didn't warn you," Schuster laughed and the sound echoed off the walls.
I wanted to scream loud enough to drown him out. I must be crazy, "Yes, I am."
"There are a number of reasons people see or hear things that aren't really there, lack of sleep being one of those. I'd like to set you up with an appointment with Mrs. Freeman. She's our school psychologist."
I groaned, but didn't protest. Maybe it was a good idea.
"Getting help during a difficult time is nothing to be ashamed of, Jaycie. I'll talk to Mrs. Freeman and see what she has available."
"Do you think I could go home and get some sleep maybe and try and talk to her tomorrow? I'm already feeling a little better."
He beamed obviously pleased he was able to help me, "Of course. You should definitely try and get some sleep."
I left his office with a polite goodbye and headed quickly down the steps and crawled underneath the stair case on the second floor. It was my favorite hiding place and I couldn't go home to my big empty house with Schuster in tow. It was less eerie being surrounded by people, even in hiding at least I knew they were there.
Matt must be worried about me. I hated to freak him out after he was so great yesterday. But I didn't want him to see me like this. I huddled with my knees to my chest and pulled out my phone to send him a text.
"Forgot I had a dentist appointment. Be in before lunch."
"I warned you about saying anything to Dr. Cooper," Schuster ranted on. I could see his giant feet pacing back and forth in front of the staircase, "You would never listen to a teacher would you Miss Rollings? Of course not. With that thick skull of yours I'm surprised you can make it through an entire school day without a handful of detentions."
I couldn't.
Maybe this was my punishment for being such an academic loser. The past two days my life had taken a small turn for the positive. I got a taste of success, but it was wrong to claim honesty when several incidents of lying and cheating were involved.
Was this really what I deserved? Watching a man die right in front of my eyes, and being condemned to have that man's voice ringing in my ears.
I was there when it happened, the only one in the room. I shouldn't have been there. If I just let things go like usual and not allowed Matt to help, I wouldn't have been there that morning. Three days ago I was dreading walking in to this school building and facing Schuster alive, but now I would take that day over this one in a heartbeat.
Everything started Monday morning. I should have pulled the covers over my head and never left my bedroom.
Nov 14, 2009
Sample pages: Soldier, Sage, and Vagabond
Click here to read the query.
Janto was invisible. Though he judged the incoming volley would miss, he ducked behind his pavise--no sense taking chances. Ahead of him on the mountain path, the arrows smacked like hailstones against the cliff face and rebounded, spinning, into the chasm below.
The volley was over. Behind him, his soldiers emerged from their own shields. Janto looked them over, ascertaining by the faint shimmer in the air that they were still hidden by his invisibility shroud. He resumed marching on the narrow ledge, and his soldiers trailed after him. He was proud of them, his motley assortment of bel-caste and ur-caste men. Normally the castes did not mix, but the war and his people's dwindling numbers had necessitated change. Progress. He grimaced at the irony.
The cannons were falling behind, so he slowed to let them catch up and glanced over the cliff edge at the beach below. The enemy encampments and fortifications were a depressing sight. The Kjallans' numbers never seemed to diminish. For all his people thinned them, more arrived by ship. He spotted the Kjallan bowmen. They were spelling fresh arrows, magically enhancing their power and speed. They couldn't see Janto and his men, nor the horses or cannons, since he'd hidden them beneath the shroud. But they knew he was up here, and what they lacked in accuracy, they made up for in volume.
Sashi, the ferret who rode upon Janto's shoulder, stared down at them. His hackles went up. Kill, he growled over the avatar-link.
Soon, replied Janto. Ahead, the ledge widened, and they would be able to turn the cannons and fire.
He did not share Sashi's love for war. A year ago--had it been only a year?--he'd been quietly studying statecraft and languages. If he were to go back in time and tell his younger self he would one day be at the head of a war band, his younger self would have scoffed. My little brother, maybe, his younger self would say. Kal is suited for war--not me. But then the Kjallans had invaded, and everything had changed. Janto's shroud-magic was rare and valuable. He could hardly squirrel himself away in the Mosari palace while his people died, just because soldiering did not come naturally to him.
"Volley!" cried one of the men.
Janto raised his head. The incoming flight was better aimed than the first. He ducked behind his pavise and pressed himself against the cliff face, curling up to expose as little of himself as possible. All around him, arrows thwacked against stone. One fell on the ledge by his foot. Its outlines crackled purple as the remnants of its spell dissipated.
A horse screamed. Janto poked his head out from behind his shield.
An arrow protruded from the horse's flank. The panicked animal plunged and kicked, slamming into its harness-mate. It ripped the lead rope out of the hands of the soldier who held it.
"Malaki, catch him!" cried Janto. The volley had ended, but the danger had not. The rear wheel of the team's caisson had backed over the edge of the cliff. If it went much further, the caisson would fall, taking limber and both horses with it.
The lead rope whipped about Malaki's head. He caught it, wrapped it around his wrist, and pulled, trying to drag the crazed animal away from the cliff. But the horse set itself back on its haunches. The wheel slipped farther, and in a terrible cacophony of screams and groaning metal, the caisson and limber disappeared over the edge, followed by the horses, and then Malaki.
Janto gaped at the empty space where they'd been. He felt for their presence with his magic. The horses and caisson had left the range of his invisibility shroud, but Malaki had not.
Janto ran to the cliff edge and peered over. Thank the gods--Malaki had caught himself on a narrow ledge a short ways down, where he clung to an outcropping of rock. Far below, the horse and cannon lay in a tangled heap, half-hidden in a rising cloud of dust.
Malaki's face was pale with terror. "Jan-Torres," he pleaded. "Your Highness. Help me!"
Janto was invisible. Though he judged the incoming volley would miss, he ducked behind his pavise--no sense taking chances. Ahead of him on the mountain path, the arrows smacked like hailstones against the cliff face and rebounded, spinning, into the chasm below.
The volley was over. Behind him, his soldiers emerged from their own shields. Janto looked them over, ascertaining by the faint shimmer in the air that they were still hidden by his invisibility shroud. He resumed marching on the narrow ledge, and his soldiers trailed after him. He was proud of them, his motley assortment of bel-caste and ur-caste men. Normally the castes did not mix, but the war and his people's dwindling numbers had necessitated change. Progress. He grimaced at the irony.
The cannons were falling behind, so he slowed to let them catch up and glanced over the cliff edge at the beach below. The enemy encampments and fortifications were a depressing sight. The Kjallans' numbers never seemed to diminish. For all his people thinned them, more arrived by ship. He spotted the Kjallan bowmen. They were spelling fresh arrows, magically enhancing their power and speed. They couldn't see Janto and his men, nor the horses or cannons, since he'd hidden them beneath the shroud. But they knew he was up here, and what they lacked in accuracy, they made up for in volume.
Sashi, the ferret who rode upon Janto's shoulder, stared down at them. His hackles went up. Kill, he growled over the avatar-link.
Soon, replied Janto. Ahead, the ledge widened, and they would be able to turn the cannons and fire.
He did not share Sashi's love for war. A year ago--had it been only a year?--he'd been quietly studying statecraft and languages. If he were to go back in time and tell his younger self he would one day be at the head of a war band, his younger self would have scoffed. My little brother, maybe, his younger self would say. Kal is suited for war--not me. But then the Kjallans had invaded, and everything had changed. Janto's shroud-magic was rare and valuable. He could hardly squirrel himself away in the Mosari palace while his people died, just because soldiering did not come naturally to him.
"Volley!" cried one of the men.
Janto raised his head. The incoming flight was better aimed than the first. He ducked behind his pavise and pressed himself against the cliff face, curling up to expose as little of himself as possible. All around him, arrows thwacked against stone. One fell on the ledge by his foot. Its outlines crackled purple as the remnants of its spell dissipated.
A horse screamed. Janto poked his head out from behind his shield.
An arrow protruded from the horse's flank. The panicked animal plunged and kicked, slamming into its harness-mate. It ripped the lead rope out of the hands of the soldier who held it.
"Malaki, catch him!" cried Janto. The volley had ended, but the danger had not. The rear wheel of the team's caisson had backed over the edge of the cliff. If it went much further, the caisson would fall, taking limber and both horses with it.
The lead rope whipped about Malaki's head. He caught it, wrapped it around his wrist, and pulled, trying to drag the crazed animal away from the cliff. But the horse set itself back on its haunches. The wheel slipped farther, and in a terrible cacophony of screams and groaning metal, the caisson and limber disappeared over the edge, followed by the horses, and then Malaki.
Janto gaped at the empty space where they'd been. He felt for their presence with his magic. The horses and caisson had left the range of his invisibility shroud, but Malaki had not.
Janto ran to the cliff edge and peered over. Thank the gods--Malaki had caught himself on a narrow ledge a short ways down, where he clung to an outcropping of rock. Far below, the horse and cannon lay in a tangled heap, half-hidden in a rising cloud of dust.
Malaki's face was pale with terror. "Jan-Torres," he pleaded. "Your Highness. Help me!"
Nov 9, 2009
Sample Pages- THE UNCOMMON ONE
Click here to read the revised query.
CHAPTER 1
Sarah drove into the parking
garage and smiled when she found an empty space next to the Bumblebee. It wasn’t a real bumblebee, just her nickname for the bright yellow SUV with the black bumpers that always seemed to be there. Something she could count on.
There weren’t many cars around and looking at her watch, she saw it was a little after seven-thirty. In all her excitement of preparing for work, she arrived earlier than usual.
Mondays. How she loved them. It was the beginning of a nice long week. Of course, she loved every weekday. They kept her busy and surrounded her with people. Weekends were not her favorite days. There was too much time to dwell on her loneliness.
When she got out of her car, the January air slapped her in the face and she huddled inside her white coat. Even the garage got cold in the winter. If it weren’t for her only friend, Lori, she might have moved someplace warmer. Then again, maybe not. It wasn’t like she was adventurous.
She locked the doors, and headed for the elevators.
“Miss!” someone yelled behind her.
She turned around and saw a man running up to her. “Are you calling me?” she asked.
“Yes. I think you dropped this,” he said, showing her a hankie.
He was cute in a preppy kind of way, with neatly combed dark hair and brown puppy dog eyes. She looked at his hand and shook her head. “Nope, sorry. Not mine. Someone else must have dropped it.”
“Oh. I could have sworn it was you. My mistake, I’m sorry.”
She smiled at him, “No harm done. You’re forgiven.” She then continued on to the elevators.
He caught up to her. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Have you worked here long?”
He looked her over and she could have sworn he licked his lips. He was making her nervous, but then most men who approached her did. She continued to smile at him anyway. She never could get the hang of turning someone away and always found herself continuing a conversation she wished would never start. “Not long, a few months,” she said.
Two other people came to stand by the elevators, waiting, and it made Sarah feel a little better. Safety in numbers. When the elevator car arrived, she entered and punched her floor then saw he punched the floor above. The others punched the floor below her. She maneuvered herself so she wouldn’t have to stand near him. When the doors opened to let the first passengers off, she was tempted to get off, too, but realized how silly that would look.
As soon the doors closed, he walked over and offered his hand. “My name is Brian.”
She ignored him. Heart hammering in her chest, her eyes never left the door of the elevator.
“Ah, come on. Don’t leave me hanging. How am I supposed to ask you out if I don’t know your name?”
The door opened and she exited, but held it open. She turned to face him. In the calmest voice she could muster she said, “I’m sorry Brian. I’m not comfortable going out with strangers.” She then let the door close.
Once he was out of sight, Sarah was able to relax. The guy was cute, but he gave her the creeps. She hoped the rest of the day turned out better than it started.
By seven p.m., she was ready to leave for home. The day turned out better than she imagined. She didn’t have a single solitary minute to herself and that suited her just fine. Being one of the few employees who took late clients, she was one of the last to leave for the day. Maybe she was a workaholic, but what else was there?
The elevator opened to the garage and it was deserted. Very few cars remained, but her Bumblebee was still there. Whoever owned it must work longer than she did. It was there every morning when she arrived and every night when she left. Digging in her purse to fetch her keys, she never heard anything out of the ordinary until someone grabbed her from behind, placing a wet mask over her face. She instinctively struggled against her abductor, but once she inhaled the sweet scent, her movements weakened and her world went dark.
CHAPTER 1
Sarah drove into the parking
garage and smiled when she found an empty space next to the Bumblebee. It wasn’t a real bumblebee, just her nickname for the bright yellow SUV with the black bumpers that always seemed to be there. Something she could count on.
There weren’t many cars around and looking at her watch, she saw it was a little after seven-thirty. In all her excitement of preparing for work, she arrived earlier than usual.
Mondays. How she loved them. It was the beginning of a nice long week. Of course, she loved every weekday. They kept her busy and surrounded her with people. Weekends were not her favorite days. There was too much time to dwell on her loneliness.
When she got out of her car, the January air slapped her in the face and she huddled inside her white coat. Even the garage got cold in the winter. If it weren’t for her only friend, Lori, she might have moved someplace warmer. Then again, maybe not. It wasn’t like she was adventurous.
She locked the doors, and headed for the elevators.
“Miss!” someone yelled behind her.
She turned around and saw a man running up to her. “Are you calling me?” she asked.
“Yes. I think you dropped this,” he said, showing her a hankie.
He was cute in a preppy kind of way, with neatly combed dark hair and brown puppy dog eyes. She looked at his hand and shook her head. “Nope, sorry. Not mine. Someone else must have dropped it.”
“Oh. I could have sworn it was you. My mistake, I’m sorry.”
She smiled at him, “No harm done. You’re forgiven.” She then continued on to the elevators.
He caught up to her. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Have you worked here long?”
He looked her over and she could have sworn he licked his lips. He was making her nervous, but then most men who approached her did. She continued to smile at him anyway. She never could get the hang of turning someone away and always found herself continuing a conversation she wished would never start. “Not long, a few months,” she said.
Two other people came to stand by the elevators, waiting, and it made Sarah feel a little better. Safety in numbers. When the elevator car arrived, she entered and punched her floor then saw he punched the floor above. The others punched the floor below her. She maneuvered herself so she wouldn’t have to stand near him. When the doors opened to let the first passengers off, she was tempted to get off, too, but realized how silly that would look.
As soon the doors closed, he walked over and offered his hand. “My name is Brian.”
She ignored him. Heart hammering in her chest, her eyes never left the door of the elevator.
“Ah, come on. Don’t leave me hanging. How am I supposed to ask you out if I don’t know your name?”
The door opened and she exited, but held it open. She turned to face him. In the calmest voice she could muster she said, “I’m sorry Brian. I’m not comfortable going out with strangers.” She then let the door close.
Once he was out of sight, Sarah was able to relax. The guy was cute, but he gave her the creeps. She hoped the rest of the day turned out better than it started.
By seven p.m., she was ready to leave for home. The day turned out better than she imagined. She didn’t have a single solitary minute to herself and that suited her just fine. Being one of the few employees who took late clients, she was one of the last to leave for the day. Maybe she was a workaholic, but what else was there?
The elevator opened to the garage and it was deserted. Very few cars remained, but her Bumblebee was still there. Whoever owned it must work longer than she did. It was there every morning when she arrived and every night when she left. Digging in her purse to fetch her keys, she never heard anything out of the ordinary until someone grabbed her from behind, placing a wet mask over her face. She instinctively struggled against her abductor, but once she inhaled the sweet scent, her movements weakened and her world went dark.
Oct 19, 2009
IRON THIRST - SAMPLE PAGES (REVISED)
Click here for a search string on IRON THIRST. There are queries and sample pages available.
I redid the beginning, and added a chapter before. It is told from another POV, someone that is aware of the danger that lurks. Let me know what you guys think. Especially of the POV switch in chapter 2. The rest of the story is told in Felicity's POV. Thanks-
Chapter 1
*/ /*
*/Adam Bristow/*
It is merely the beginning of the night when Gabriel decides upon his first victim. He locks his sights on her the moment she steps into the bar. The curvaceous blonde lass will be in is bed in under an hour, and shortly after her blood will be in his veins. She doesn't stand a chance.
Thursday night at DragonCon is when most of the guests check into their hotel and start the weekend with a drink in hand. My hand is empty. The first night of Con is when I begin to patrol, as the out-of-towners descend upon our town. I'm not worried about the geeks, the costumed
fans, or the party animals. My concern is very specific--those who are removing their disguises. Vamps get this weekend to be themselves, but there are rules, and this bloodsucker is dangerously close to breaking the first one--aggravating me.
His fangs are protruding, turned on by the blue-eyed soon-to-be donor. She doesn't blink as she gravitates towards him. What irks me is that she is an unwilling donor. There will be plenty of those, but I ain't going to sit on my arse and watch. She may be walking to him on her own
two feet, but the brain in her head currently belongs to him.
What a lovely time to buy my dear old pal a drink?
"Gabriel," I call out as I step in front of her path, breaking their eye contact and the hold he has over her. Bastard snarls at me. "Run along, love," I tell the blonde.
She blinks a few times with that expression of confusion. Lost at why she is standing here, she lets out a heavy sigh and scurries along looking for her friends.
When I look back, Gabriel has painted a smile on his face. He leans in close to me so others can't hear. "Bristow, if you continue to run off my dinner then I will be forced to believe that you are volunteering. Although you're not my taste, your blood is much too bitter."
No one likes a clever vampire. I pull the unlit pipe from my lips, and raise an eyebrow at him. "You are not threatening me now, are ya?"
His smile vanishes. "I was not harming anyone, nor am I breaking any of your precious rules."
"That's debatable, and I am not really up to the debate. So, just behave yourself and you'll live, well exist, to see your two hundredth birthday."
"Ahh, you flatter me. I am not nearly that old."
"But I am," adds a smooth Arabian voice from behind me.
I am a rather smart bloke. I wouldn't still be alive if I wasn't. So allowing a thousand year old vamp to sneak up on me is just piss poor form. I turn to see the dark-skinned vampire, fangs extended, staring back at me. I haven't seen Zamir in nearly ten years, and if I am being
honest, I ain't thrilled at seeing him now.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, rubbing my palm over the prickly stubble that is my hair. /More importantly, when are you leaving?/
I could take out Gabriel and three fledglings all by myself. But this bloody bastard shooting holes through my skin, I ain't so sure of. I avert my eyes to a spot above his slick black hair. Looking at the floor would give the appearance of weakness, and I ain't weak and even less stupid.
"Ah, my dearest Bristow, you do not seem happy to see me. No matter. Many of my progenies look expectantly upon this weekend, and I find myself wondering what all the chatter is about. Thought I would come and see for myself."
Rubbish, I'm sure. "I'm on my early rounds making sure everyone keeps it copasetic. We want all the humans' hearts beating and the secret safe. We got rules in this area. So, keep it peaceful."
As I turn to walk away, Zamir says, "We are aware of your so-called rules. Maybe you should run along and check the more recent additions to our world. The ones that actually care."
I hate the way his words crawl over my skin. I glance at Gabriel's smug face, grinning like he's getting away with something. I'd love nothing more than to knock him arse over elbow, but starting a fight on the first night over something as silly as pride would not be my best move.
Not without back up. Currently, the rest of my team is doing the exact same thing all through the other three hotels.
If the humans knew what was swarming DragonCon, they might have just stayed home behind locked doors. Not that a flimsy door would keep the monsters out.
Chapter 2
*/Felicity Johnson/*
Who knew two tiny fangs could be so hard to find? I bought the pair nearly five months ago, and I specifically remember thinking to put them somewhere that I could find them. My room is a complete and utter disaster. I have been through every drawer, emptying the contents onto
my bed in search for the last thing needed to complete my costume. I can't be a vampire without fangs.
I plop down on the bed, and close my eyes. /Where did I put them?/
"Bathroom, second drawer, along with the red contacts," I say aloud to the ceiling.
I leap from the bed. Christian will be here any minute, and I want him to see the complete look. I slide open the drawer, and there they sit. I can't believe I forgot the contacts too. That set me back nearly a hundred bucks.
I insert the teeth, and begin trying to attach the colored plastic to my eyeballs. I should have waited on the eye makeup. I run back to my closet to grab shoes, zipping up the knee-high leather boots.
I stop by the mirror for one last look. The struggle was well worth it. My eyes glow a bright crimson with black around the edges, as if the fire inside has burnt the curved periphery. I bounce my palm off the spikes of my black pixie wig. The menacing grin is complete with two
sharp fangs over my scarlet red lips that look poised to wreak havoc amongst the unsuspecting city of Atlanta, Georgia.
Well, the town won't be that unsuspecting considering the rest of the people at DragonCon will also be dressed in costumes ranging from Star Trek to Night of the Living Dead.
As I darken the shadows under my eyes to give myself the true undead look, the doorbell rings. I slide down the banister to get to the door. Safer than taking the stairs in these boots.
I fling the door open, and there he stands. We both let out a scream and begin cackling at each other. Christian is a yicky-ucky zombie, complete with a tattered, stained, once-white shirt, suspenders, and pants that look as if they had been buried. His normally perfect hair is dirty and
a total mess. His skin has been painted a weird grayish green, and his mouth is bloodstained. No one would recognize this scary critter as my clean-cut best buddy.
"Felicity Johnson, you look a-freakin-mazing. I would have never thought that you, of all people, could pull this off."
I should be offended, but he is quite right. Everyday "me" is not sexy, not scary, and definitely not a vampire.
"Well, hello Pot, I must be the kettle," I say with a laugh while opening the door wide. "Hey, listen to this," I say, letting out my version of a snarl. "I've been practicing."
"Um, keep practicing. You sound like a drowning kitten."
I stick out my pouty lip. I at least sound like an angry kitten, not a completely helpless one.
"Hey, Fee… I…I…," Christian stutters. He looks down and starts to fiddle with his shirt sleeves, pulling them longer. "I may have kinda invited Mike."
"Why, in the name of everything holy, would you do that?" I ask as I look down, fretting over the red tank top with three holes sliced across the front and the black leather miniskirt. It's one thing to look this way in front of Christian and tens of thousands of random strangers, but
Mike will never let me hear the end of it.
"He swears that he will be good, and he is excited about meeting some of the celebrities, and /he/ is even dressing up."
"Is he meeting us there?"
Christian walks over to the couch and plops down. He tugs again on the sleeves. They can't stretch any further. "No, he is meeting us here."
"Are you telling me that you gave Mr. Grabass my address? What were you thinking?"
He stops jerking on his clothes, and looks up at me. "You are totally over-reacting. Just calm down. He's not that bad."
My eyes roll like dice. Mike Fletcher is Christian's best guy friend who is nothing like him. More like his alter-ego. Where Christian is sweet, understanding, and everything a girl looks for in a best friend, Mike is a chauvinistic, egocentric, pig-headed jerk. They were fraternity brothers at UGA, home of the Bulldogs, and I've been stuck with him ever since. Lucky me.
The door bell rings, and I jump ten feet in the air. Just wonderful. I don't have time to tone down the outfit. I am stuck dressed like this with only a piece of wood separating me from my nemesis. I take a deep breath, and then open the door.
"Hey sexy lady, where's Felicity?" Mike says with a wink. I start to walk away, when he adds, "What's eating her? Wish it was…" I turn on my heels, and playfully punch him in the stomach before he can finish that thought.
"Dude, you said you would behave," Christian states.
"Man, that's before I knew she was going as Sexy Fee." He looks at me and tries to turn on the charm, softening his voice and flashing a smile. "Felicity, I am just kidding. I think it's cool you got all dressed up. You look really nice and very realistic. Can I lick your fangs?"
He almost had me believing that for a minute.
I redid the beginning, and added a chapter before. It is told from another POV, someone that is aware of the danger that lurks. Let me know what you guys think. Especially of the POV switch in chapter 2. The rest of the story is told in Felicity's POV. Thanks-
Chapter 1
*/ /*
*/Adam Bristow/*
It is merely the beginning of the night when Gabriel decides upon his first victim. He locks his sights on her the moment she steps into the bar. The curvaceous blonde lass will be in is bed in under an hour, and shortly after her blood will be in his veins. She doesn't stand a chance.
Thursday night at DragonCon is when most of the guests check into their hotel and start the weekend with a drink in hand. My hand is empty. The first night of Con is when I begin to patrol, as the out-of-towners descend upon our town. I'm not worried about the geeks, the costumed
fans, or the party animals. My concern is very specific--those who are removing their disguises. Vamps get this weekend to be themselves, but there are rules, and this bloodsucker is dangerously close to breaking the first one--aggravating me.
His fangs are protruding, turned on by the blue-eyed soon-to-be donor. She doesn't blink as she gravitates towards him. What irks me is that she is an unwilling donor. There will be plenty of those, but I ain't going to sit on my arse and watch. She may be walking to him on her own
two feet, but the brain in her head currently belongs to him.
What a lovely time to buy my dear old pal a drink?
"Gabriel," I call out as I step in front of her path, breaking their eye contact and the hold he has over her. Bastard snarls at me. "Run along, love," I tell the blonde.
She blinks a few times with that expression of confusion. Lost at why she is standing here, she lets out a heavy sigh and scurries along looking for her friends.
When I look back, Gabriel has painted a smile on his face. He leans in close to me so others can't hear. "Bristow, if you continue to run off my dinner then I will be forced to believe that you are volunteering. Although you're not my taste, your blood is much too bitter."
No one likes a clever vampire. I pull the unlit pipe from my lips, and raise an eyebrow at him. "You are not threatening me now, are ya?"
His smile vanishes. "I was not harming anyone, nor am I breaking any of your precious rules."
"That's debatable, and I am not really up to the debate. So, just behave yourself and you'll live, well exist, to see your two hundredth birthday."
"Ahh, you flatter me. I am not nearly that old."
"But I am," adds a smooth Arabian voice from behind me.
I am a rather smart bloke. I wouldn't still be alive if I wasn't. So allowing a thousand year old vamp to sneak up on me is just piss poor form. I turn to see the dark-skinned vampire, fangs extended, staring back at me. I haven't seen Zamir in nearly ten years, and if I am being
honest, I ain't thrilled at seeing him now.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, rubbing my palm over the prickly stubble that is my hair. /More importantly, when are you leaving?/
I could take out Gabriel and three fledglings all by myself. But this bloody bastard shooting holes through my skin, I ain't so sure of. I avert my eyes to a spot above his slick black hair. Looking at the floor would give the appearance of weakness, and I ain't weak and even less stupid.
"Ah, my dearest Bristow, you do not seem happy to see me. No matter. Many of my progenies look expectantly upon this weekend, and I find myself wondering what all the chatter is about. Thought I would come and see for myself."
Rubbish, I'm sure. "I'm on my early rounds making sure everyone keeps it copasetic. We want all the humans' hearts beating and the secret safe. We got rules in this area. So, keep it peaceful."
As I turn to walk away, Zamir says, "We are aware of your so-called rules. Maybe you should run along and check the more recent additions to our world. The ones that actually care."
I hate the way his words crawl over my skin. I glance at Gabriel's smug face, grinning like he's getting away with something. I'd love nothing more than to knock him arse over elbow, but starting a fight on the first night over something as silly as pride would not be my best move.
Not without back up. Currently, the rest of my team is doing the exact same thing all through the other three hotels.
If the humans knew what was swarming DragonCon, they might have just stayed home behind locked doors. Not that a flimsy door would keep the monsters out.
Chapter 2
*/Felicity Johnson/*
Who knew two tiny fangs could be so hard to find? I bought the pair nearly five months ago, and I specifically remember thinking to put them somewhere that I could find them. My room is a complete and utter disaster. I have been through every drawer, emptying the contents onto
my bed in search for the last thing needed to complete my costume. I can't be a vampire without fangs.
I plop down on the bed, and close my eyes. /Where did I put them?/
"Bathroom, second drawer, along with the red contacts," I say aloud to the ceiling.
I leap from the bed. Christian will be here any minute, and I want him to see the complete look. I slide open the drawer, and there they sit. I can't believe I forgot the contacts too. That set me back nearly a hundred bucks.
I insert the teeth, and begin trying to attach the colored plastic to my eyeballs. I should have waited on the eye makeup. I run back to my closet to grab shoes, zipping up the knee-high leather boots.
I stop by the mirror for one last look. The struggle was well worth it. My eyes glow a bright crimson with black around the edges, as if the fire inside has burnt the curved periphery. I bounce my palm off the spikes of my black pixie wig. The menacing grin is complete with two
sharp fangs over my scarlet red lips that look poised to wreak havoc amongst the unsuspecting city of Atlanta, Georgia.
Well, the town won't be that unsuspecting considering the rest of the people at DragonCon will also be dressed in costumes ranging from Star Trek to Night of the Living Dead.
As I darken the shadows under my eyes to give myself the true undead look, the doorbell rings. I slide down the banister to get to the door. Safer than taking the stairs in these boots.
I fling the door open, and there he stands. We both let out a scream and begin cackling at each other. Christian is a yicky-ucky zombie, complete with a tattered, stained, once-white shirt, suspenders, and pants that look as if they had been buried. His normally perfect hair is dirty and
a total mess. His skin has been painted a weird grayish green, and his mouth is bloodstained. No one would recognize this scary critter as my clean-cut best buddy.
"Felicity Johnson, you look a-freakin-mazing. I would have never thought that you, of all people, could pull this off."
I should be offended, but he is quite right. Everyday "me" is not sexy, not scary, and definitely not a vampire.
"Well, hello Pot, I must be the kettle," I say with a laugh while opening the door wide. "Hey, listen to this," I say, letting out my version of a snarl. "I've been practicing."
"Um, keep practicing. You sound like a drowning kitten."
I stick out my pouty lip. I at least sound like an angry kitten, not a completely helpless one.
"Hey, Fee… I…I…," Christian stutters. He looks down and starts to fiddle with his shirt sleeves, pulling them longer. "I may have kinda invited Mike."
"Why, in the name of everything holy, would you do that?" I ask as I look down, fretting over the red tank top with three holes sliced across the front and the black leather miniskirt. It's one thing to look this way in front of Christian and tens of thousands of random strangers, but
Mike will never let me hear the end of it.
"He swears that he will be good, and he is excited about meeting some of the celebrities, and /he/ is even dressing up."
"Is he meeting us there?"
Christian walks over to the couch and plops down. He tugs again on the sleeves. They can't stretch any further. "No, he is meeting us here."
"Are you telling me that you gave Mr. Grabass my address? What were you thinking?"
He stops jerking on his clothes, and looks up at me. "You are totally over-reacting. Just calm down. He's not that bad."
My eyes roll like dice. Mike Fletcher is Christian's best guy friend who is nothing like him. More like his alter-ego. Where Christian is sweet, understanding, and everything a girl looks for in a best friend, Mike is a chauvinistic, egocentric, pig-headed jerk. They were fraternity brothers at UGA, home of the Bulldogs, and I've been stuck with him ever since. Lucky me.
The door bell rings, and I jump ten feet in the air. Just wonderful. I don't have time to tone down the outfit. I am stuck dressed like this with only a piece of wood separating me from my nemesis. I take a deep breath, and then open the door.
"Hey sexy lady, where's Felicity?" Mike says with a wink. I start to walk away, when he adds, "What's eating her? Wish it was…" I turn on my heels, and playfully punch him in the stomach before he can finish that thought.
"Dude, you said you would behave," Christian states.
"Man, that's before I knew she was going as Sexy Fee." He looks at me and tries to turn on the charm, softening his voice and flashing a smile. "Felicity, I am just kidding. I think it's cool you got all dressed up. You look really nice and very realistic. Can I lick your fangs?"
He almost had me believing that for a minute.
Oct 8, 2009
AM I WORTH IT - sample pages Brand New - Trying a different Chapter
Click here to search through the prior sample pages and queries.
*Special note- I'm trying something different. This is actually my second chapter. It might be a better starting place???? I am struggling with this more than any other part of the novel. Any first chapter experts out there that have some advice I'd love to hear it.
"Mr. Anderson! I was worried you weren't coming." The frantic history teacher Mr. Epstein spoke loudly as I walked into his classroom a few minutes late.
I nodded mumbling a sorry and slipped into the desk closest to the door.
"Anyway," he continued, "I was just telling everyone that I think we have a real chance to win the state competition and maybe even the national competition this year. Last year we just missed qualifying to nationals, but the team is stronger than ever." He nodded toward me.
Six heads turned in my direction. The last thing I wanted was to be singled out – although most valuable member of the 'geek squad' had to be the worst title in high school.
It could be good – maybe a goal I would work toward.
"Alex, I'd like you to take Dan and Claire through last year's state questions from the card box. The rest of you can do the same with the other box. Try to finish as many as you can." Mr. Epstein rubbed his hands together, oozing with excitement.
Alex Jenkins waved at me – I recognized him from my German class. Geek wasn't a strong enough word for this guy, but he was seemed decent enough.
But he shared my love of Star Wars.
I walked over to his side of the room and noticed a girl with light brown wavy hair and . . . well let's just say she didn't fit in here. I couldn't remember ever seeing her before.
I had at least one class with everyone else on the team.
"I don't think we've met? I'm Claire Ramsey." She stuck out her hand.
I shook it politely.
"Dan Anderson," I said. Then I sat down in one of the desks next to Alex and she did the same.
"I'm going to get the cards." Alex got up to walk over to Mr. Epstein.
"Just so you know," Claire whispered, leaning in close to me, letting me smell her perfume, "I'm only here because Mr. Epstein is my brother in-law and my father practically forced him to let me on the team to help with my college applications. We've never had seven players before, usually it's just three backups, not four." She rolled her eyes.
I scooted my desk away from her a little and leaned back crossing my arms to my chest.
"Too much for your reputation?" I looked her over curiously.
"God no! Nothing like that, I'm not a snob!"
She sounded a little offended, which surprised me, and girls didn't surprise me very often. They were even more predictable than shrinks.
"But I'm not smart enough to actually make the team. I was just giving you a warning before we go head-to-head today."
"Sorry, it's a natural reaction- years of being called a dweeb are bound to leave some scarring," I looked right into her eyes- a really unusual shade of green. Green eyes have always fascinated me. Mostly because of the genetic improbability.
She raised her eyebrows as Alex returned with our box of cards.
"Years of being a dweeb, huh?" Her tone left me hanging.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I was a little offended myself that she wouldn't stop talking to me, and looking at me.
This was already more words than I had spoken to any student in over two months.
Damn, I was slipping!
"Nothing," she said quickly, her cheeks blushing a little, "I think Alex is ready to quiz us," she turned her eyes on him and he pulled the first card out of the box.
"What is the only novel Harper Lee has ever written?" Alex asked.
Claire looked at me and I sighed thinking I better live up to my reputation. Things were so different now.
"To Kill a Mocking Bird," I answered and Alex nodded.
"What is the native language of Brazil?" Alex asked.
I gave Claire a minute to answer.
"Portuguese," I said when Claire made it obvious she wasn't going to speak up.
"Nice!" Alex said, "Against what opposing team did Babe Ruth hit his first home run?"
"The Yankees," I said.
Alex looked excited and started firing at rapid speed.
"What is the most common element in the human body?"
"Oxygen." I made the mistake of looking at Claire while I answered.
For some reason I didn't tone it down for her. I usually made intentional pauses or missed a few on purpose. I think I was trying to scare her off- nobody likes a freak.
"What illness accounted for more than forty percent of U.S. casualties during World War I?"
"Influenza."
The rest of the practice went the same – Claire never opened her mouth once and I started to feel guilty about making her look stupid.
I was the first one out the door when Epstein dismissed us and I hurried down the hall toward the front doors. I heard footsteps following behind and then Claire was there at my side.
"You were really good." She turned her smile on me.
Her face was interesting, so full of secrets and depth – I couldn't help wanting to know more about her. But that was asking for trouble and it was pleasure I didn't deserve.
"Thanks." I looked at the ground and sped up my pace. "See you tomorrow." I headed through the door and let it shut before she could follow. I felt like such an ass. But it was better this way.
"Hey Steve," I said quietly, when I walked in the door to my uncle's house.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of papers and a red pen.
"How was practice? I heard the team's looking strong this year. I thought about stopping in to see for myself."
"I thought you were running detention?" Steve is my German teacher. It's his third year teaching.
Oddly enough he's only nine years older than me. That's always seemed so strange. He's halfway between peer and parent- but he's cool. I couldn't pick a better person to live with.
"Yeah, I was stuck with detention. Is pizza alright for dinner? I'm totally beat," he asked.
"Sounds good." I sat down at the table and took the first few papers off the stack and started marking the first test.
"How was your session with Dr. Stevens?" he asked tentatively, when we were eating pizza in front of the T.V. watching Monday night football.
"Don't you mean the Dr. Phil wannabe? Do I really need to keep seeing him?" I was hoping he might understand.
He looked at me more serious now. "Do you need to keep seeing him?"
"It's not like it changes anything."
"Your parents want you to. It was part of the agreement. But if you won't really talk to him, it seems like a waste of money. Of course they don't care, they just want to say they're doing something." His voice was filled with a bitter edge, very rare for Steve.
He had issues with wasting money. It wasn't easy living on a teacher's salary in the north suburbs of Chicago.
"I'll talk to them again." He didn't sound very hopeful that he could make any more progress than I had.
"Thanks anyway."
"If you don't mind me asking, do you really like the trivia bowl team? It just seems so different for you. And you're not playing basketball?" He immediately looked worried he might have gone too deep.
"That's sort-of the goal."
"I understand you're avoiding certain crowds, it's just that you aren't being yourself. Doesn't that bother you?"
This was the most he'd ever tried to get out of me and if I was going to talk to anyone it would probably be Steve, but I didn't want to talk. What if he made me doubt my decision, tried to make me feel less guilty?
"I'll make the most of it, I promise. In fact I was planning on taking the team out for a beer on Friday night. I thought we could hit the clubs maybe pick up a few college girls."
He laughed probably visualizing Alex Jenkins in his Dark Vader costume – that I knew he secretly had hanging in his closet- slam dancing with a cocktail in one hand.
"Claire Ramsey's on the team this year, isn't she?"
"Yeah, but not on merit." I immediately felt guilty betraying her secret. But Steve was a teacher I'm sure he already knew this.
"She's a nice girl." He gave me a look that added to my guilt.
"I wouldn't know, she hardly spoke a word." I grabbed my books and headed to my room, turned on the computer to write my essay on Hamlet-it would take less than thirty minutes.
I woke up to the same nightmare. My eyes flew open, my breathing heavy, it was still dark. I turned my head to look at the clock and groaned when I saw it was only four in the morning.
I used to be able to sleep in till noon, of course I was out partying until two or three. I picked up another book to read and stayed in bed until five, not wanting Steve to think something was wrong with me – that's the last thing I needed.
I turned on the computer to check the weather and groaned again when I saw it was only sixteen degrees. I've been running every morning since I moved to Chicago in June. But fuck that! I'm not training for a winter marathon.
It would have to be the school field house today and possibly several months.
I walked in the empty field house at six and started my run, with my IPOD turned up as loud as it would go. It's really strange how much I love running now because I used to hate it.
I did three sports all three years of high school- football, basketball, and baseball – very stereotypical jock. The most we ever had to run all at once was two or three miles. I clocked in at least six to eight miles every day now, of course I wasn't playing any sports.
I focused on the music, something loud with a good beat. The rhythm of my feet hitting the track – a steady consistent pace, calmed me better than any therapy session. It was the most peace I would have all day.
I continued lap after lap allowing my surroundings- the red padded walls, to melt and spin in front of me like bloody water swirling down the drain of the bathroom sink. I jumped when I felt a cold hand on my cheek pulling one of the head phones out of my ear.
"Dan," It was Claire in her P.E. uniform jogging next to me.
I focused my eyes taking notice of my surroundings and realized about thirty kids in uniform were sharing the track with me.
"Fuck! Did I miss this first period?" I asked her frantically and she laughed.
"Don't worry, it's early bird P.E.- before school at 6:45." She smiled at my confusion, "Are you really that out of it when you run?" Her speed picked up to match mine.
"I guess I am today." I wiped sweat from my face with the bottom of my t-shirt.
"Hey Ramsey?" Jason Elliot came up behind Claire and poked her in the side.
I didn't know him personally, but from what I've heard he was the senior star of the basketball team and on his way to the University of Illinois next year with a scholarship.
We didn't have any classes together, but that's only because I was in all the 'smartest' classes now and he fell more in to the 'smart' category – along with Claire.
"Who's your friend?" He nodded toward me.
"This is Dan, he's a senior too. We're on the trivia team together, except Dan's actually going to play where as I am going to sit and look pretty." She laughed again.
I loved her laugh, it was so real. Everything about her was real.
"I'm sure you'll be great at that," Jason joked, looking her over.
I thought she seemed a little uncomfortable being checked out – not that I hadn't done the same.
But at least I was discrete enough to wait until she wasn't looking before checking out her long and very sexy legs, among other outstanding qualities.
Claire was a pretty tall girl, maybe five six or five seven – I'm six one, so I've always liked taller girls.
"Are you on the wrestling team, Dan?" Jason peeled his eyes from Claire to look at me.
I needed to get out of this conversation and away from this girl.
"God no!" I shook my head, "Just watching my weight, I used to be a fat ass- over three hundred pounds." I looked him straight in the eye.
His eyes widened. "No shit!"
Claire looked down at the track, smiling. She guessed I was joking.
"How did you lose that much weight?" He sounded truly amazed.
"Jenny Craig." I ran ahead, away from both of them.
*Special note- I'm trying something different. This is actually my second chapter. It might be a better starting place???? I am struggling with this more than any other part of the novel. Any first chapter experts out there that have some advice I'd love to hear it.
"Mr. Anderson! I was worried you weren't coming." The frantic history teacher Mr. Epstein spoke loudly as I walked into his classroom a few minutes late.
I nodded mumbling a sorry and slipped into the desk closest to the door.
"Anyway," he continued, "I was just telling everyone that I think we have a real chance to win the state competition and maybe even the national competition this year. Last year we just missed qualifying to nationals, but the team is stronger than ever." He nodded toward me.
Six heads turned in my direction. The last thing I wanted was to be singled out – although most valuable member of the 'geek squad' had to be the worst title in high school.
It could be good – maybe a goal I would work toward.
"Alex, I'd like you to take Dan and Claire through last year's state questions from the card box. The rest of you can do the same with the other box. Try to finish as many as you can." Mr. Epstein rubbed his hands together, oozing with excitement.
Alex Jenkins waved at me – I recognized him from my German class. Geek wasn't a strong enough word for this guy, but he was seemed decent enough.
But he shared my love of Star Wars.
I walked over to his side of the room and noticed a girl with light brown wavy hair and . . . well let's just say she didn't fit in here. I couldn't remember ever seeing her before.
I had at least one class with everyone else on the team.
"I don't think we've met? I'm Claire Ramsey." She stuck out her hand.
I shook it politely.
"Dan Anderson," I said. Then I sat down in one of the desks next to Alex and she did the same.
"I'm going to get the cards." Alex got up to walk over to Mr. Epstein.
"Just so you know," Claire whispered, leaning in close to me, letting me smell her perfume, "I'm only here because Mr. Epstein is my brother in-law and my father practically forced him to let me on the team to help with my college applications. We've never had seven players before, usually it's just three backups, not four." She rolled her eyes.
I scooted my desk away from her a little and leaned back crossing my arms to my chest.
"Too much for your reputation?" I looked her over curiously.
"God no! Nothing like that, I'm not a snob!"
She sounded a little offended, which surprised me, and girls didn't surprise me very often. They were even more predictable than shrinks.
"But I'm not smart enough to actually make the team. I was just giving you a warning before we go head-to-head today."
"Sorry, it's a natural reaction- years of being called a dweeb are bound to leave some scarring," I looked right into her eyes- a really unusual shade of green. Green eyes have always fascinated me. Mostly because of the genetic improbability.
She raised her eyebrows as Alex returned with our box of cards.
"Years of being a dweeb, huh?" Her tone left me hanging.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I was a little offended myself that she wouldn't stop talking to me, and looking at me.
This was already more words than I had spoken to any student in over two months.
Damn, I was slipping!
"Nothing," she said quickly, her cheeks blushing a little, "I think Alex is ready to quiz us," she turned her eyes on him and he pulled the first card out of the box.
"What is the only novel Harper Lee has ever written?" Alex asked.
Claire looked at me and I sighed thinking I better live up to my reputation. Things were so different now.
"To Kill a Mocking Bird," I answered and Alex nodded.
"What is the native language of Brazil?" Alex asked.
I gave Claire a minute to answer.
"Portuguese," I said when Claire made it obvious she wasn't going to speak up.
"Nice!" Alex said, "Against what opposing team did Babe Ruth hit his first home run?"
"The Yankees," I said.
Alex looked excited and started firing at rapid speed.
"What is the most common element in the human body?"
"Oxygen." I made the mistake of looking at Claire while I answered.
For some reason I didn't tone it down for her. I usually made intentional pauses or missed a few on purpose. I think I was trying to scare her off- nobody likes a freak.
"What illness accounted for more than forty percent of U.S. casualties during World War I?"
"Influenza."
The rest of the practice went the same – Claire never opened her mouth once and I started to feel guilty about making her look stupid.
I was the first one out the door when Epstein dismissed us and I hurried down the hall toward the front doors. I heard footsteps following behind and then Claire was there at my side.
"You were really good." She turned her smile on me.
Her face was interesting, so full of secrets and depth – I couldn't help wanting to know more about her. But that was asking for trouble and it was pleasure I didn't deserve.
"Thanks." I looked at the ground and sped up my pace. "See you tomorrow." I headed through the door and let it shut before she could follow. I felt like such an ass. But it was better this way.
"Hey Steve," I said quietly, when I walked in the door to my uncle's house.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of papers and a red pen.
"How was practice? I heard the team's looking strong this year. I thought about stopping in to see for myself."
"I thought you were running detention?" Steve is my German teacher. It's his third year teaching.
Oddly enough he's only nine years older than me. That's always seemed so strange. He's halfway between peer and parent- but he's cool. I couldn't pick a better person to live with.
"Yeah, I was stuck with detention. Is pizza alright for dinner? I'm totally beat," he asked.
"Sounds good." I sat down at the table and took the first few papers off the stack and started marking the first test.
"How was your session with Dr. Stevens?" he asked tentatively, when we were eating pizza in front of the T.V. watching Monday night football.
"Don't you mean the Dr. Phil wannabe? Do I really need to keep seeing him?" I was hoping he might understand.
He looked at me more serious now. "Do you need to keep seeing him?"
"It's not like it changes anything."
"Your parents want you to. It was part of the agreement. But if you won't really talk to him, it seems like a waste of money. Of course they don't care, they just want to say they're doing something." His voice was filled with a bitter edge, very rare for Steve.
He had issues with wasting money. It wasn't easy living on a teacher's salary in the north suburbs of Chicago.
"I'll talk to them again." He didn't sound very hopeful that he could make any more progress than I had.
"Thanks anyway."
"If you don't mind me asking, do you really like the trivia bowl team? It just seems so different for you. And you're not playing basketball?" He immediately looked worried he might have gone too deep.
"That's sort-of the goal."
"I understand you're avoiding certain crowds, it's just that you aren't being yourself. Doesn't that bother you?"
This was the most he'd ever tried to get out of me and if I was going to talk to anyone it would probably be Steve, but I didn't want to talk. What if he made me doubt my decision, tried to make me feel less guilty?
"I'll make the most of it, I promise. In fact I was planning on taking the team out for a beer on Friday night. I thought we could hit the clubs maybe pick up a few college girls."
He laughed probably visualizing Alex Jenkins in his Dark Vader costume – that I knew he secretly had hanging in his closet- slam dancing with a cocktail in one hand.
"Claire Ramsey's on the team this year, isn't she?"
"Yeah, but not on merit." I immediately felt guilty betraying her secret. But Steve was a teacher I'm sure he already knew this.
"She's a nice girl." He gave me a look that added to my guilt.
"I wouldn't know, she hardly spoke a word." I grabbed my books and headed to my room, turned on the computer to write my essay on Hamlet-it would take less than thirty minutes.
I woke up to the same nightmare. My eyes flew open, my breathing heavy, it was still dark. I turned my head to look at the clock and groaned when I saw it was only four in the morning.
I used to be able to sleep in till noon, of course I was out partying until two or three. I picked up another book to read and stayed in bed until five, not wanting Steve to think something was wrong with me – that's the last thing I needed.
I turned on the computer to check the weather and groaned again when I saw it was only sixteen degrees. I've been running every morning since I moved to Chicago in June. But fuck that! I'm not training for a winter marathon.
It would have to be the school field house today and possibly several months.
I walked in the empty field house at six and started my run, with my IPOD turned up as loud as it would go. It's really strange how much I love running now because I used to hate it.
I did three sports all three years of high school- football, basketball, and baseball – very stereotypical jock. The most we ever had to run all at once was two or three miles. I clocked in at least six to eight miles every day now, of course I wasn't playing any sports.
I focused on the music, something loud with a good beat. The rhythm of my feet hitting the track – a steady consistent pace, calmed me better than any therapy session. It was the most peace I would have all day.
I continued lap after lap allowing my surroundings- the red padded walls, to melt and spin in front of me like bloody water swirling down the drain of the bathroom sink. I jumped when I felt a cold hand on my cheek pulling one of the head phones out of my ear.
"Dan," It was Claire in her P.E. uniform jogging next to me.
I focused my eyes taking notice of my surroundings and realized about thirty kids in uniform were sharing the track with me.
"Fuck! Did I miss this first period?" I asked her frantically and she laughed.
"Don't worry, it's early bird P.E.- before school at 6:45." She smiled at my confusion, "Are you really that out of it when you run?" Her speed picked up to match mine.
"I guess I am today." I wiped sweat from my face with the bottom of my t-shirt.
"Hey Ramsey?" Jason Elliot came up behind Claire and poked her in the side.
I didn't know him personally, but from what I've heard he was the senior star of the basketball team and on his way to the University of Illinois next year with a scholarship.
We didn't have any classes together, but that's only because I was in all the 'smartest' classes now and he fell more in to the 'smart' category – along with Claire.
"Who's your friend?" He nodded toward me.
"This is Dan, he's a senior too. We're on the trivia team together, except Dan's actually going to play where as I am going to sit and look pretty." She laughed again.
I loved her laugh, it was so real. Everything about her was real.
"I'm sure you'll be great at that," Jason joked, looking her over.
I thought she seemed a little uncomfortable being checked out – not that I hadn't done the same.
But at least I was discrete enough to wait until she wasn't looking before checking out her long and very sexy legs, among other outstanding qualities.
Claire was a pretty tall girl, maybe five six or five seven – I'm six one, so I've always liked taller girls.
"Are you on the wrestling team, Dan?" Jason peeled his eyes from Claire to look at me.
I needed to get out of this conversation and away from this girl.
"God no!" I shook my head, "Just watching my weight, I used to be a fat ass- over three hundred pounds." I looked him straight in the eye.
His eyes widened. "No shit!"
Claire looked down at the track, smiling. She guessed I was joking.
"How did you lose that much weight?" He sounded truly amazed.
"Jenny Craig." I ran ahead, away from both of them.
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