Last year, a friend of mine (actually a few friends of mine) participated in NaNoWriMo--National Novel Writing Month.
The task? Write 50,000 words during the month of November.
Of course, I'm not crazy enough to think I could actually do this. I don't consider myself a writer; I'm an editor. But I do aspire to write a novel at some point in my life, and I was inspired by those who did sign up. So I started writing.
I didn't write very much--maybe 6,000 words (which felt like a lot to me even though I'm not silly enough to think that it is). But then I got stuck and so put it aside and haven't looked at it for probably eight months.
Chapter 1
"Wait!" Courtney lifted her head from the pavement
and saw the yellow bus pulling away from the corner. She angrily swiped at the
lone tear sneaking toward her chin and spit into her palm, using the moisture
to rub blood from the cut on her knee.
She quickly gathered the spilled contents of her backpack--two wide-ruled notebooks, one black pen, two #2 pencils, an eighth-grade geometry textbook, a pair of gym shoes, and a paper bag lunch--and jumped to her feet, wincing as she straightened her leg.
Hugging her open backpack to her chest with one arm, Courtney waved her other and took off in pursuit of her only mode of transportation. If she missed the bus, she'd be late to school for the third day in a row. One more tardy or absence from first period, and she would be docked a full letter grade. Then she'd have to tell her mother.
She quickly gathered the spilled contents of her backpack--two wide-ruled notebooks, one black pen, two #2 pencils, an eighth-grade geometry textbook, a pair of gym shoes, and a paper bag lunch--and jumped to her feet, wincing as she straightened her leg.
Hugging her open backpack to her chest with one arm, Courtney waved her other and took off in pursuit of her only mode of transportation. If she missed the bus, she'd be late to school for the third day in a row. One more tardy or absence from first period, and she would be docked a full letter grade. Then she'd have to tell her mother.
Normally, her mother wouldn’t have cared that Courtney
hadn’t gotten an A in every class. Courtney knew her mother understood that not
everyone could be perfect at everything—unlike her father, who wouldn’t accept
less than excellent. Nowadays, however, her mother was acting anything but normal, and she was the one Courtney was worried about.
These days, Courtney wasn’t sure what was going on; it was
like her sane, cool mother had left and been replaced with a crazy person she
didn’t recognize. It wasn’t until two days ago that Courtney had finally been
able to look at her mother without focusing on the purple streaks in her
hair…and the diamond stud in the right side of her nose. At the time, her
mother had claimed it was her mid-life crisis that forced her into the beauty
salon at the mall—and then the jewelry store they passed on the way out. Her
mother had laughed. Courtney had been horrified but not fooled. She knew it wasn’t
a mid-life crisis; no, it was because of Aunt Sylvia.
“I’m not stupid,” she wanted to tell her parents. “I can
hear you guys whispering. I know what’s going on.” But she knew she couldn’t
say that. Little girls of thirteen weren’t invited to listen in on adult
conversations—at least that’s pretty much what her father had said when he
caught her listening in the hallway outside their bedroom. Courtney had sighed
and gone into the living room to watch TV with Eli, her younger brother. He’s so lucky, she had thought. At only
nine years old, he was uninterested in anything beyond little league baseball
and making sure he had cookies in his lunch box. She had sat on the couch
watching the Disney channel and complaining—not that there was anyone around to
listen. It’s hard being the oldest child.
For the first time ever, Courtney had tried to follow in her
brother’s footsteps; and for the past month Courtney had just pretended not to
notice when her mother randomly burst into tears and ran from the room. She
tried not to listen to the soft sobs coming from her parents’ bedroom. And,
above all else, she did her best to not get into trouble.
Today, however, it was obvious that her best wasn’t going to
be good enough. “I needed to get on that stupid bus!” she shouted. Then she
shook her head, shoulders slumped in unhappy acceptance. “Ugh. Stupid bus
driver.”
The stupid bus driver, had, however, moved on, leaving Courtney
standing in the middle of the sidewalk, waving a skinny
arm at the rapidly disappearing yellow bus while the contents of her
backpack slowly slid out of her grasp and scattered, once again, onto the
pavement.
“It’s not my fault this time,” she said to no one in
particular. “Today I really was going
to be on time!” Courtney knelt down and began picking up the strewn objects as
she continued talking to herself—a habit she’d developed when Eli was
born.
“Okay, so fine. Maybe yesterday I shouldn’t have stopped at
the doughnut shop on my way to the bus stop. And maybe the day before that I
shouldn’t have forgotten my social studies book on the kitchen counter. But”—Courtney
zipped up her backpack and started the three-mile walk toward school—“today was not my fault.” She stopped and stamped her grey converse sneaker on
the concrete. “Stupid uneven
sidewalk.”
Glancing down at her knee, she spit into her hand again and
hastily wiped away the dried blood. She glanced back longingly at Sunrise Sprinkles, a one-room
orange-and-yellow splash on the otherwise empty corner. It was one of two
doughnut shops in her small town of Harper County, Ohio, but it was the only
one that sold cinnamon glazed; and even though it wasn’t on the main
thoroughfare (as much of a thoroughfare as there was in Harper County), folks
drove out of their way for the spiced treat. Mmm… cinnamon glazed. Just the thought made her stomach rumble, a
less-than-subtle reminder of first thing she’d missed that morning.
Courtney stopped and looked at the straight, quiet road
ahead. The choice between a long walk to first period and a delicious sugary treat
seemed only too easy, but then the responsible first child side of Courtney won
out in her inner struggle. “No,” Courtney said. “I’m in enough trouble already.
Plus, I don’t have any money.”
I already want to read more-- you did a great job and piquing interest quickly-- and describing the scene well...keep us posted!
Thanks, Caitlin :)
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