Teaser Tuesday {6}

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She nods at me, still looking down. Her eyes flicker up to my face, and then return to their previous position, a small frown etched around her lips. “Are you newly Independent, Dom?”

“Yeah, I –”

“You better hurry,” she says, cutting me off. “You don’t want to be late.”

“Late?” I ask, not recalling anything instructions about activities tonight.

“For reporting to work,” she clarifies. She nods at my bag. “You should probably get that dropped off and get to it.”

“Um...” I’m honestly not sure what to say. This is my first real interaction in which our designation system has really come into play. I’m a little embarrassed that she thinks I’m lower tier, but I’m also a little ashamed for thinking that way. I play with the SmrtPad in my pocket a little, debating how to respond.

Lane’s eyes dart side to side, gauging whether there are any other people in our vicinity. Satisfied that the coast is clear, she leans in closer. The top of her head barely reaches my neck. Her breath is warm against the base of my throat. “You’ll want to make a good first impression,” she says nervously, like she’s telling me something she shouldn’t be. “It’ll matter.” Done with her good deed for the day, she leans back and shrugs. “Congratulations,” she adds, and then shuffles away.

Teaser Tuesday {5}

__________

She’s a dreamer, a dancer, absolutely divine. She sits at her vanity, back ramrod straight and eyes staring at the reflection in the mirror. Her head turns to the side and thin, tapered fingers reach up drape her head with pearls; a perfectly rounded stud in each ear, a chain around her neck.

She’s a rebel, a reveller, absolutely ravishing. She runs a brush through her pink hair, the fluffy comfort of bubblegum and cotton candy. Her luscious lips blow out a lazy plume of smoke, arching through the air; they twist and flex like biceps and triceps, muscles corded with strength.

She’s a social butterfly, a fragile beauty. She picks up her Blackberry and taps out an e-mail, fingers flying quickly, mind on autopilot. I love you.

She’s a liar.

Teaser Tuesday {4}

So I realized that it's basically been ages since I've done one of these. The other day, I was randomly browsing my [failed] attempt at Project 365 this year, going through some of the posts from back in January on my other blog.

And then I found something that I'd completely forgotten writing about. It was a contest entry for a teen diary entry/letter over at agent extraordinaire Nathan Bransford's blog. So I guess I'll share it here:

__________

Henry –

Some days I wish you were a dragonfly. I wish you were a dragonfly because I want to hurt you, I want to make you feel pain, I want to utterly decimate you. I would grow my fingernails long and clutch your wings between them, digging the edges of the nails into the thin, gossamer material. Fragile. I would then slowly – slowly, to savour the satisfaction – slowly pull my hands apart like they were same poled magnets repelling each other. I would tear you from limb to limb, and prolong the excruciating agony for as long as I can. Then I would crunch your tail between my thumb and middle finger – you know why the middle finger – so that you can’t escape, and then – bam! Squish you flat with my other palm.

You don’t deserve to be called my “father” anymore – you’ve never been him, and iPhones will fall from the sky for free before you ever are him. But you know what’s the most pathetic part of all this? I wish you were him. I wish you could be him, even more than I wish for a free iPhone to just fall into my lap. And then disgust and abhorrence fills me to think that I’d even contemplated letting you back into my life.

Do you even realize how messed up my life is because of you? Sometimes I want to pretend that you don’t know, and that somewhere in that bleak, bleak heart of yours, you have a soft spot for me. The rational part of my mind knows that’s nothing but a lie though. Clearly, you don’t give a shit.

Otherwise, you wouldn’t have called Mom and me last night. The first time we’ve heard form you in about half a year now. And what was your not-so-surprising reason for calling? You got in a bar fight, you’re on the run, and you needed cash. And even though neither of us said it out loud, both Mom and I knew that you were drunk or high, or maybe even both. But by now, you probably don’t even remember doing that. And you’ll never read this letter, because you don’t deserve to know the full impact of your life on mine.

Last weekend, Mom took me to the mall and I saw some hot guys from school. And you know what I immediately did, almost subconsciously? I ran and tried to hide inconspicuously in the closest spot possible. Which happened to be a rack of old granny cardigans and gingham dresses on clearance. You know what else? I’m seventeen years old, about to graduate high school, and I’ve still never been kissed. You know why I’m such a late bloomer? Because I grew up without gender balance. Basically, I don’t know how to talk to guys. Every time I try, all I can do is gurgle incoherently.

You don’t deserve to have me care anymore.

Screw you, Henry.

Screw you, stranger.

Definitely not my father.

Work of Fiction.

Teaser Tuesday {3}

It's that time of week again :) Yeah, a little less preamble this time, let's get right to it. This is also from Red Herring. Feedback appreciated very muchly! Thanks in advance :)

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Thursday 12:04 p.m.

Outside on the street, the cars whizz by us, fast, fast, fast. Outside on the sidewalk, people stride by us purposefully, hurrying, rushing, speeding. Outside the world whirrs on.

Inside the car though, we have a temporary safe haven.

It is quiet, with Cherry sitting in the driver’s seat and me on passenger side, neither one of us talking or daring to break the silence.

Through Cherry’s window, I can see the police station across the street. Uniformed officers stride handsomely in and out of the building. I can’t look any more, and opt to stare blankly out my window instead. My breath leaves fuzzy little blobs of fog on the window. I lift a finger and draw lines through it.

“So...” Cherry begins.

“So...” I echo. I seem to be doing a lot of that these days, dumbly repeating the words of others.

*While you're here, don't forget to enter to win a $60 giftcard to CSN Stores! Contest ends today (June 29th).

Teaser Tuesday {2}

It's that time of week again, Teaser Tuesday time! This snippet is once again from Red Herring, a YA contemporary mystery.

I'm kind of excited because I'm in the process of conceptualizing and fleshing out an SNI at the moment, Here Be Humans. It'll be at least a few weeks yet before there's any teasers from that though. But at the moment, it is on deck as the next project.

But anyway, back to this week. Feedback is muchly appreciated! And without further ado:

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2:01 a.m.

The liquid is the gilded ochre of donkey piss.

Doesn’t taste much better either.

I vibrate the red plastic cup between my thumb and middle finger, watching the foul substance swirl in conflicting little waves.

Cherry bounces up and down on the bumper of her decade-old red Honda, shaking the car. She lifts her cup at me. “To the last day of freedom.”

I bump mine against hers overdramatically, arm looping in a wide arc. A little bit of the beverage sloshes over the lip of the cup and cascades to the pavement with a splat. “Cheers,” I mock-seriously respond fervently.

In unison we tip our cups back. The foul drink carries the heavy stench of alcohol, sliding abrasively down my throat. The aftertaste will be worse, so I force myself to keep gulping it down as if it were simply grape soda. I finish first and crumple the frail plastic between my fingers.

Cherry’s throat gleams unnaturally pale in the harsh yellow glow of the streetlamp we’re parked under. The smooth column of her jugular undulates as her subtle Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow.

Teaser Tuesday {1}

So there's been this weekly meme floating around the AW forums & the blogosphere, Teaser Tuesday, where one shares snippets of a WIP or a SNI for feedback.

I've been meaning to hop aboard this bandwagon for awhile now, but what school and night class and other activities, hadn't gotten around to it. But today -that changes!

This is from Red Herring, a YA contemporary mystery. Feedback is appreciated very muchly ;)

_________

Cherry settles into the driver’s seat and pops the key in the ignition. The ancient engine roars to life, crackling the previously quiet night like a whip. She turns to me, her eyes dancing with life. “Let’s have a little fun.”

I reach over and fumble around in the dark for the radio knob, cranking up the volume. I can feel the vibrations of the music’s bass line thrashing through me. Beauty. “Aw, yeah!” I holler.

She guns the accelerator and we shoot forward down the street. I lose all sensation of time and place as we zoom forward, fast. Cherry’s hand is groping the air beside me, and then she clutches the neck of the bottle, taking it from me. She tries to bring it up to her lips, misses, and then finally tips it back, sloshing some down her shirt front.

Suddenly I notice the temperature. It’s stifling in the car. I roll down my window.

Cherry laughs, then lobs the bottle out my window, nearly catching my face with it in the process. I mumble out a muffled exclamation of indignation. She simply lets out a whoop of exhilaration in response.

Because that’s exactly how this feels: exhilarating.