Late night post I know...
BUT. I have excellent news! I am beginning a new short story, which could very well turn into a novel. However, I'm shying away from such a lofty goal at the moment. Best to stick with baby steps and see where this goes. :) I thought I'd share with you the first couple of pages of the story. I've only been working on it for three days, so it's still rough. Of course, praise, constructive criticism, and suggestions would be lovely!
I want to emphasize how much this story means to me. The characters are influenced by many people I love and cherish. hahaha One character, though, is a combination of personalities I've come across in my life that have really irked me. hahah But seriously. I look forward to waking up, opening my laptop, and writing my heart out. The way I write is very meticulous and obsessive. I've been known to spend at least an hour on a single sentence,
just so I can get it right. I can't just "spit everything out on the page and then revise later," as I've been advised to do soooo many times by teachers and friends alike. So keep in mind that revisions will be made, so updates may take a while.
That is if I decide to do updates...Hmm. If you are so moved by the story that you want updates, then I am at your service. However, if you find it boring or just horrible, I'll keep to myself. :) No worries.
[And without further ado...Here's...Oh, crap. I haven't thought of a title yet. hahaha But seriously. Here it is!]
They decided since they’re eighteen and have seven years to go until their brains become fully developed, that doing something outrageously stupid would not only be beneficial to their human experience, but quintessential to ending the summer with a bang.
Avery’s best friend, Martin Hambly, has never been a “live-on-the-edge-grab-life-by-the-balls” kind of guy. His name has always defined him. Even from the moment he emerged from his mother’s womb. Avery has two theories concerning the parallel between Martin’s name and Martin’s being. First theory: His parents took one look at their newborn son, saw his gangly appendages and pointed nose, then quickly agreed “Martin” would suit him just fine. Second theory: His parents believed his name would act as a protective shield from “harmful activities” and “bad influences.”
Enter Avery.
Not only has she introduced hundreds of “harmful activities” to Martin from the very early stages of their lives up to their present predicament and been a flawlessly horrible influence all the while, she has also managed to earn the deliciously disdainful judgment of his mother and the quiet encouragement of his father.
Clive Hambly is rather tall and lean, with a lopsided grin and an uneven haircut. Silver strands streak throughout his dark hair, almost like a black forest cut in fragments by racing rivers.
Melanie Hambly may conjure the picture of a slightly pudgy woman with wispy hair and a watering can always on hand, but this is false. Harsh reality: She’s pencil thin and a perpetually two-faced crow of a woman. And, worse, her auburn hair is consistently twisted in an updo. Just as her hair is permanently glued to her skull, so is her sickeningly sweet smile plastered to her face at all times.
Martin and his parents met Avery and Faye the first day of second grade. The classroom was crowded with plenty of skittish seven year olds and encouraging parents, but Martin was easily the edgiest. He stood close to his father’s legs and clutched tightly to his mother’s black skirt. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he wondered what the other kids thought of him. The collar of his white polo was itchy and he knew his recent haircut made him look like a dork. His parents remained rooted to the linoleum floor, waiting for the teacher to escort their son to his seat. Clive checked his watch: 8:44 am.
Fifteen minutes to the hour, Avery and Faye skipped into the classroom holding hands. As soon as they entered, the atmosphere became charged with a new vibrancy. What was once muted and dull became electrified. Faye was accustomed to being in the spotlight and passed the art of capturing attention on to her daughter beautifully. The pair’s effervescence seemed so genuine and nonchalant that others often looked on with either awe or jealousy.
They breezed past other families waiting for the bell to ring and marched through the aisles of desks. Avery squealed when she found her nametag and Faye hurried behind her. When her daughter’s butt hit the chair, Faye smiled at Avery’s ridiculous tutu fluff up around her waist. Though she tried to reason with Avery in wearing a respectable outfit that morning, there was no way her tutu was coming off. Tired and frazzled, Faye agreed to let her wear the tutu for the first day of school and promised her it would bring good luck. Avery’s smile was worth the frustration that morning.
When Faye opened the desk’s lid and saw the cavernous well inside, she sighed, “A lot of homework is gonna get lost in here, huh?” It was a statement, not a question.
Avery wasn’t listening. She saw Martin on the other side of the room with his parents, standing near the door. Martin’s discomfort was so tangible she almost felt awkward. Why isn’t he happy?
Faye tapped Avery on the shoulder and pointed to the “Art Corner.” Cocking her head to the side, Faye invited Avery to come with her to the tempting easels. Avery smiled and took her mother’s hand. Once in the “Art Corner,” Faye picked up some sidewalk chalk and began doodling on the miniature chalkboard. Avery immediately found the finger paint. Martin stared wide-eyed as Avery dunked her hand in a cup of bright red paint and wondered if she would get in trouble with the teacher. He watched as Avery held her dripping hand out like a zombie, rolled her eyes back, and moaned. Her mother turned, was momentarily shocked at her daughter’s acting talent, but then gasped, “Put your hand down! Not near Mommy!”
Her pleas came too late. Avery’s mauled hand smashed into Faye’s face.
“You’re infected!”
Martin gasped loud enough to attract the attention of Avery and his parents. Glancing behind her shoulder, Avery caught sight of Martin’s surprised face. His expression sent her over the edge and she burst into gales of high pitched laughter. Her giggles were cut short by her mother whispering fiercely in her ear.
“You don’t put paint on Mommy,” She wiped her face with a paper towel, bent to her daughter’s height, and gently took Avery’s paint covered hands. “You need to be good.” An agitated cough above their heads brought them to attention.
Melanie and Clive stood above them with Martin firmly between their towering bodies, like a fortress. Faye first smiled at Martin while she was at eye-level with him, taking in his dark blue eyes and mess of brown hair, and then stood for introductions. Taken aback by Melanie’s gorgeous red hair and Clive’s welcoming green eyes, she became instantly aware of her loose fitting sweater and dirty blonde hair in a long, messy braid down her back. But she put that out of her mind and smiled warmly at the handsome couple.
Melanie spoke first, “You two seem quite the dynamic duo.”
Faye laughed, “Oh, trust me, it’s all her. I just try to keep up.”
“You don’t seem to be doing a very good job,” Melanie replied icily.
Clive broke in quickly, “I’m Clive Hambly and this is my wife, Melanie. And this,” He paused, “is our son, Martin. Can you say hello, Martin?”
Martin muttered a “Hello,” and then went silent. He stared at his sneakers as he blushed a bright red.
“Hello, Martin!” Faye returned brightly, “And this little firecracker is my daughter, Avery.”
Avery beamed at Clive and Melanie, showcasing her train wreck of a mouth. Faye had made three Tooth Fairy visits to her daughter’s bedroom in the past month. Though uncomfortable for Faye, Avery proudly bared her teeth whenever she could. Heat grew on Faye’s cheeks as she waited for Clive or Melanie to say something.
Clive coughed politely, “You have a beautiful smile, Avery. Right, Mel?”
Melanie managed to hide her grimace behind a strained grin, “Just lovely.”
The bell rang suddenly, releasing the tension in the group. Faye looked around for any sign of the teacher while Melanie snuck glances at Avery. The seven year old had a tangle of blonde hair, dark green eyes, and a splash of freckles across her nose. She wore a bright blue t-shirt, orange leggings and a red tutu. Her socks were mismatched, pink and green. Though colorful, Melanie had an instant dislike for the little girl’s outfit. It showed that the child had control of the parent. And the display she’d witnessed with the finger paint only solidified her assumption.
The teacher bustled through the door and parents began hugging their children goodbye. Clive and Melanie knelt down and embraced Martin tightly. He hugged them back, worrying what the rest of the day would hold. Faye picked up Avery in her arms and spun her around a bit before crushing her with a bear hug. Avery squeezed back just as fiercely, smelled her mother’s hair, and imagined all the adventures she’d get to tell her after school. As Clive, Melanie, and Faye stood up and looked down at their children, none of them would have guessed the two would become inseparable.
But sometimes parents don’t know everything.
The three adults left the classroom, Faye bringing up the rear.
She still had red paint on her palms.
