I am not a typical blogger. I don't have a particular theme I want to write about. I am not doing this so my friends can keep up with my life. The only thing that made me want to create a blog is litreactor.com. I joined the site and saw a discussion thread with members' blogs. I have always been a reader. I grew up reading anything and everything (anything fictional, that is) that I could get my hands on. It wasn't until college that I realized I should try the other end of things...the writing side. I have never been a prolific writer. It takes every ounce of willpower in my body to write the essays and papers required for school. I do not keep a journal or write for pleasure. I do have characters, plotlines, settings, and stories running around my head constantly, though. So, this blog is my attempt to finally do something about the noise in my head. I will try to write here every day. I hope some of you litreactor people read this and give me feedback on any stories or excerpts I post. I am trying to turn myself into a writer by brute force, and I have a feeling it will be hard and messy at times. I am not known for my willpower, but I want to change that if I can. I have been working on the same novel for months, and have only written about six pages. They are not the beginning of the story, so it probably won't make sense to anyone who doesn't know my story concept, but I will post them anyway and hope to get some kind of constructive feedback. My goal is to write in my favorite genre, Young Adult fantasy. This book is the first in (hopefully) a series that I plan to write. The main character is Niki Mayfield, a sixteen year old girl who has recently moved to a new town. Jared is her neighbor, best friend in town, and secret love interest. That is pretty much all you need to know for these first few pages. The fantasy aspect of the story is not present yet, but I will explain more about it in another post. Please keep in mind that this is geared towards a young adult (mostly female) audience. My greatest writing inspiration is Meg Cabot, so if you are familiar with her work you should have an idea of what I am aiming for with my own writing. So, without further ado, here it is!
I tried not to look pissed off as I walked in the door of Mr. Porter's classroom and made my way to the back where Jared was sitting. As I sat down in the empty desk next to Jared's, he leaned over and whispered, “So, I'm guessing you need a ride home today?”
I shot him my best “die-bitch-die” glare and replied, “Shut up ass-face.”
Oh yeah. I'm real mature.
“Smart Niki, insulting your only means of transportation... have fun walking home.” Jared leaned back in his seat and muttered under his breath, “Hope you brought an umbrella.”
I looked out the window and saw that the sky had turned a murky black color in the short time since I'd arrived back at school. Torrential rain was definitely happening in the near future. As I watched the wind snap the flags on the flagpole back and forth, I decided from now on, I will keep an umbrella in my backpack at all times, no matter what. This mountain weather is seriously bipolar.
I tore my gaze away from the depressing landscape outside and pretended to pay attention to Mr. Porter's lesson on polynomial functions. That didn't last long, however.
Is there anything more boring than Algebra? If there is, I have yet to discover it. Jared actually likes Algebra...God knows why. He's tried to explain it to me on several occasions, but even talking about math in the abstract shuts off some part of my brain and I end up staring off into space, thinking about Cheetos, or whatever contraband I have stashed in my nightstand at the moment.
Last week Jared tried to teach me how to “find the square” or something like that, and when he asked me to repeat what he had just said I blurted out, “pizza bagels”. After that, he refused to help me with my homework unless I ate before.
I was fantasizing about the stash of powdered doughnuts I plan on keeping in my car (as soon as I actually GET a car) when the bell rang. As I stood up to leave the room, mentally preparing myself for the thorough soaking I was about to receive on my way home, Jared put his arm around my shoulder and slung my Northface backpack on top of the battered Jansport he totes around.
“Come on, I'm not mean enough to make you walk home in that.” He leaned in close to my face and softly growled, “But don't tell anybody. I've got a reputation to protect.” Oh. My. God. Physical contact and a sexy whisper in my ear? Rain, rain go away my ass! If this is what rain gets me then I will do a rain dance to whatever gods will listen every morning for the rest of my life…or the rest of my high school career. Whatever. The point is, suddenly my day was brighter than an August afternoon in the Arizona desert.
“Could you be any lamer?” I asked with as straight a face as I could manage. He pulled away from me and shrugged, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as he said, “Oh, I don't know. I could be the only 16 year old at Gordon Holt High who doesn't have their driver's license. But wait! That's YOU!”
Just like that my good mood vanished. I hate it when he preys on my one weakness. Okay, so it's probably not my ONLY weakness, but it's definitely my biggest. And he should have known better than to bring it up so soon after this afternoon's most recent humiliation.
I'm talking of course, about my driver's test. And the fact that I have now failed it not once, not twice, but THREE times. I think I must hold some sort of record. The people at the DMV should really send me a plaque or certificate or something. I am after all, the worst driver in the history of vehicular transportation.
The first time I took the test, I failed before I even pulled out of the parking lot, because get this…I couldn't turn the headlights on.
Like that is an essential piece of knowledge for the modern driver? Do they even make cars anymore without automatic lights??
Unfortunately, my strongly worded protests to the driving instructor about this heinous injustice fell on deaf ears. I had to wait six whole weeks before I could take the test again, and this time I came prepared with the knowledge of how to operate every button, switch, knob, or dial on the stupid car. The instructor was very impressed with my gadgety skills, but not so much with my “coming to a complete stop at a stop sign” skills. No one told me that you had to sit at the sign for like five freakin' minutes before going again.
Jared was pretty sympathetic with my first failure, seeing as how when I told him what happened, he tried but couldn't figure out how to turn the headlights on in my mom's Lexus, the car I've been learning to drive in, either. The second time he wasn't so understanding. His exact words when I explained what happened aren't repeatable, but they went something like, “How the freak didn't you know what the freak to do at a freaking stop sign?” Insert stronger F words where applicable.
My silence must have given away how mad I was because Jared sighed and put his arm around me again. “Okay, tell me what happened this time,” he said. I tried to stay mad and aloof, determined to punish his last nasty quip with the soul-quaking power of my disdain, but his arm around my shoulders sort of melted my resolve.
“Well it definitely wasn't my fault this time,” I started, slumping my shoulders a little so his arm went tighter around me. “Of course not,” he said. I looked up at his face, but I couldn't find the hint of a smirk I knew he was hiding. “Anyways, this time I got the old bald guy. You know he doesn't like me.”
The first time I took the test, I tried to make small talk to alleviate some of my nervous tension, but Old Baldy wouldn't cooperate. He actually shushed me like I was some 5 year old and told me to concentrate on what I was doing. Clearly the man is socially challenged.
“So I get past the parking lot stuff, totally nail the lane changes and left turns, and then he tells me to turn right on Marten Street. You know, the street Yellowfield Elementary is on?”
Jared nodded, a confused look on his face. “I was starting to freak out because I had never made it this far before and I was so excited that I might actually, finally, pass. I made the circle around Charles Road, and when we pulled into the parking lot at the DMV I figured I had it in the bag. He hadn't said one word the whole ride, which I took as a good sign, when out of freakin' nowhere he says I failed!”
Jared really looked confused now. “I couldn't believe it. I mean, I did EVERYTHING right, totally by the book.”
“So what happened? Why did you fail if you did everything right?” he asked.
“Because the bald dude hates me!” At Jared's incredulous look I quickly sped through the next part, “And because I went 35 in a school zone. But technically it wasn't even speeding! The sign said 25 when children are present and I didn't see a single kid!”
By the time I finished my hurried explanation Jared was laughing, his full on belly laugh that ends in an involuntary snort. “It's not funny Jared! It wasn't like it was recess...there were NO kids present! Why does the sign even exist if the speed limit is always 25?”
I'm not sure how long I stood there in the hall, waiting for the stupid snort that would end his stupid little episode so we could finally get to the stupid car, but when it finally happened I was well and truly pissed.
Sometimes I wish Ava was here. She’s my best friend from home, the one who tells me exactly what I want to hear even when she doesn’t mean it just because that's what friends do. Instead I have Jared, always-says-what-he-means Jared. The guy who actually answered yes when I asked him if he thought dying my hair black would wash me out. Hello? I was looking for a “you’d look good with any hair color Niki,” not a “yeah, you’re way too pale to pull that off,” which is what I got. Lucky me.
The boy of my dreams thinks I look like a vampire wannabe. I am completely helpless without a license. Even if I HAD a license, I don’t have my own car. And to top it off, I have to find a way to write 3,000 words by Thursday when I don’t even have a topic for my story yet.
The only thing holding me together right now? The sight of Jared, smiling at me with that little quirky half grin, the only clue that two seconds ago he was laughing like an idiot at my expense.
My anger is suddenly gone in a pathetic rush of pride that I made Jared laugh. God I’m screwed.
“I think the sign means anytime school is in session Nik.” Jared hitched up the two backpacks on his shoulder and turned towards the front door of the school. I had to do a little hop step to catch up with his long stride when I realized I had been standing still, staring at his broad shoulders as he walked away. Screwed? No… I think maybe doomed is a better word.
*After previewing the post, I'm noticing that my paragraphs aren't showing up indented. Not sure how to indent so that it shows up on the blog...if anyone is willing to share that knowledge it would be greatly appreciated! Thanks!
I tried not to look pissed off as I walked in the door of Mr. Porter's classroom and made my way to the back where Jared was sitting. As I sat down in the empty desk next to Jared's, he leaned over and whispered, “So, I'm guessing you need a ride home today?”
I shot him my best “die-bitch-die” glare and replied, “Shut up ass-face.”
Oh yeah. I'm real mature.
“Smart Niki, insulting your only means of transportation... have fun walking home.” Jared leaned back in his seat and muttered under his breath, “Hope you brought an umbrella.”
I looked out the window and saw that the sky had turned a murky black color in the short time since I'd arrived back at school. Torrential rain was definitely happening in the near future. As I watched the wind snap the flags on the flagpole back and forth, I decided from now on, I will keep an umbrella in my backpack at all times, no matter what. This mountain weather is seriously bipolar.
I tore my gaze away from the depressing landscape outside and pretended to pay attention to Mr. Porter's lesson on polynomial functions. That didn't last long, however.
Is there anything more boring than Algebra? If there is, I have yet to discover it. Jared actually likes Algebra...God knows why. He's tried to explain it to me on several occasions, but even talking about math in the abstract shuts off some part of my brain and I end up staring off into space, thinking about Cheetos, or whatever contraband I have stashed in my nightstand at the moment.
Last week Jared tried to teach me how to “find the square” or something like that, and when he asked me to repeat what he had just said I blurted out, “pizza bagels”. After that, he refused to help me with my homework unless I ate before.
I was fantasizing about the stash of powdered doughnuts I plan on keeping in my car (as soon as I actually GET a car) when the bell rang. As I stood up to leave the room, mentally preparing myself for the thorough soaking I was about to receive on my way home, Jared put his arm around my shoulder and slung my Northface backpack on top of the battered Jansport he totes around.
“Come on, I'm not mean enough to make you walk home in that.” He leaned in close to my face and softly growled, “But don't tell anybody. I've got a reputation to protect.” Oh. My. God. Physical contact and a sexy whisper in my ear? Rain, rain go away my ass! If this is what rain gets me then I will do a rain dance to whatever gods will listen every morning for the rest of my life…or the rest of my high school career. Whatever. The point is, suddenly my day was brighter than an August afternoon in the Arizona desert.
“Could you be any lamer?” I asked with as straight a face as I could manage. He pulled away from me and shrugged, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as he said, “Oh, I don't know. I could be the only 16 year old at Gordon Holt High who doesn't have their driver's license. But wait! That's YOU!”
Just like that my good mood vanished. I hate it when he preys on my one weakness. Okay, so it's probably not my ONLY weakness, but it's definitely my biggest. And he should have known better than to bring it up so soon after this afternoon's most recent humiliation.
I'm talking of course, about my driver's test. And the fact that I have now failed it not once, not twice, but THREE times. I think I must hold some sort of record. The people at the DMV should really send me a plaque or certificate or something. I am after all, the worst driver in the history of vehicular transportation.
The first time I took the test, I failed before I even pulled out of the parking lot, because get this…I couldn't turn the headlights on.
Like that is an essential piece of knowledge for the modern driver? Do they even make cars anymore without automatic lights??
Unfortunately, my strongly worded protests to the driving instructor about this heinous injustice fell on deaf ears. I had to wait six whole weeks before I could take the test again, and this time I came prepared with the knowledge of how to operate every button, switch, knob, or dial on the stupid car. The instructor was very impressed with my gadgety skills, but not so much with my “coming to a complete stop at a stop sign” skills. No one told me that you had to sit at the sign for like five freakin' minutes before going again.
Jared was pretty sympathetic with my first failure, seeing as how when I told him what happened, he tried but couldn't figure out how to turn the headlights on in my mom's Lexus, the car I've been learning to drive in, either. The second time he wasn't so understanding. His exact words when I explained what happened aren't repeatable, but they went something like, “How the freak didn't you know what the freak to do at a freaking stop sign?” Insert stronger F words where applicable.
My silence must have given away how mad I was because Jared sighed and put his arm around me again. “Okay, tell me what happened this time,” he said. I tried to stay mad and aloof, determined to punish his last nasty quip with the soul-quaking power of my disdain, but his arm around my shoulders sort of melted my resolve.
“Well it definitely wasn't my fault this time,” I started, slumping my shoulders a little so his arm went tighter around me. “Of course not,” he said. I looked up at his face, but I couldn't find the hint of a smirk I knew he was hiding. “Anyways, this time I got the old bald guy. You know he doesn't like me.”
The first time I took the test, I tried to make small talk to alleviate some of my nervous tension, but Old Baldy wouldn't cooperate. He actually shushed me like I was some 5 year old and told me to concentrate on what I was doing. Clearly the man is socially challenged.
“So I get past the parking lot stuff, totally nail the lane changes and left turns, and then he tells me to turn right on Marten Street. You know, the street Yellowfield Elementary is on?”
Jared nodded, a confused look on his face. “I was starting to freak out because I had never made it this far before and I was so excited that I might actually, finally, pass. I made the circle around Charles Road, and when we pulled into the parking lot at the DMV I figured I had it in the bag. He hadn't said one word the whole ride, which I took as a good sign, when out of freakin' nowhere he says I failed!”
Jared really looked confused now. “I couldn't believe it. I mean, I did EVERYTHING right, totally by the book.”
“So what happened? Why did you fail if you did everything right?” he asked.
“Because the bald dude hates me!” At Jared's incredulous look I quickly sped through the next part, “And because I went 35 in a school zone. But technically it wasn't even speeding! The sign said 25 when children are present and I didn't see a single kid!”
By the time I finished my hurried explanation Jared was laughing, his full on belly laugh that ends in an involuntary snort. “It's not funny Jared! It wasn't like it was recess...there were NO kids present! Why does the sign even exist if the speed limit is always 25?”
I'm not sure how long I stood there in the hall, waiting for the stupid snort that would end his stupid little episode so we could finally get to the stupid car, but when it finally happened I was well and truly pissed.
Sometimes I wish Ava was here. She’s my best friend from home, the one who tells me exactly what I want to hear even when she doesn’t mean it just because that's what friends do. Instead I have Jared, always-says-what-he-means Jared. The guy who actually answered yes when I asked him if he thought dying my hair black would wash me out. Hello? I was looking for a “you’d look good with any hair color Niki,” not a “yeah, you’re way too pale to pull that off,” which is what I got. Lucky me.
The boy of my dreams thinks I look like a vampire wannabe. I am completely helpless without a license. Even if I HAD a license, I don’t have my own car. And to top it off, I have to find a way to write 3,000 words by Thursday when I don’t even have a topic for my story yet.
The only thing holding me together right now? The sight of Jared, smiling at me with that little quirky half grin, the only clue that two seconds ago he was laughing like an idiot at my expense.
My anger is suddenly gone in a pathetic rush of pride that I made Jared laugh. God I’m screwed.
“I think the sign means anytime school is in session Nik.” Jared hitched up the two backpacks on his shoulder and turned towards the front door of the school. I had to do a little hop step to catch up with his long stride when I realized I had been standing still, staring at his broad shoulders as he walked away. Screwed? No… I think maybe doomed is a better word.
*After previewing the post, I'm noticing that my paragraphs aren't showing up indented. Not sure how to indent so that it shows up on the blog...if anyone is willing to share that knowledge it would be greatly appreciated! Thanks!
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