So I guess what I'm saying is, this is where I am so far, anyone care to tear it to shreds? *hopeful* Input on how to beat out a straight romance novel and write in present tense will be especially appreciated. ^_^
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Chapter 2
Something happened to me after that first dance; somehow, I can feel it without really being able to identify what it is or even notice it.
And it’s affecting how I act.
When I think about it, it’s actually kinda creepy. Like a horror movie in which a demon has possessed this innocent little girl and turned her into a cold-blooded killer.
Luckily this feeling’s not quite as dark and sadistic.
I’ve just woken up on Wednesday morning, the fourth day after Homecoming, and there’s the faintest tinge of pale sunshine on the awakening horizon behind the trees behind my house. For some time I lay there as the light slowly begins to creep over the windowsill, staring at the ceiling ornamented with many old school projects tacked up on it.
I close my eyes, easily picturing the rest of my room to keep my mind of my sluggish, too-philosophical-for-a-school-morning thoughts. There’s the white dresser over in the corner to my left, and the door in the wall across from it. The coming daylight’s beginning to swirl in tiny cracks of light flung over the cluttered surface of my desk like a striped banner, alighting on the motes of dust hovering around it like fairy dust. Posters of various equine heroes and my favorite neo-country stars are tacked up on the lavender wall, while three floating shelves line the opposite wall. Various knickknacks I’ve collected over my (rather short) sixteen years of life as well as my favorite trophies from days gone by sit atop them—that one’s from my first show, where I got a pink ribbon; there’s that fateful ring from the Games Rally last year that Jenny dropped and allowed Neoma and me to reach the finish line first.
At last I sigh, open my eyes, and swing my legs out from under the covers. The chill October air latches onto my feet and hands first but quickly begins gnawing its way up those extremities to my torso. Shivering, I hug myself and glance at the alarm clock on my bedside table: 06:03
The bus comes at six twenty-six. I can already hear my mom moving around in the master bedroom down the hall.
‘Crap.’
Throwing open my closet’s twin folding doors, I choose an almost random set of clothes (only pausing to match colors) and get dressed faster than I ever have in recent history before snatching my hairbrush off my desk. After a few quick strokes to rearrange my unruly red mane into a loose ponytail, I yank my heavy backpack off the floor near the door and head downstairs. My only detour is in the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face; no time for a shower.
Besides, breakfast is more important, and—I glance at my watch—I’ve only got fifteen minutes to wolf down a smaller-than-usual bowl of Trix before I have to be at the end of my driveway.
By the time I’m almost done with the food, my mom has come down the stairs and is grabbing her coffee. I soon put my empty bowl and spoon in the sink and jog out the door ahead of her.
“Bye Mom!” I call on the way out the door.
She gives me an indistinct answer that’s cut off by the door and my thumping footsteps on the stairs down to the walkway to our mini-parking lot.
Despite jogging all the way down our long driveway early in the morning of a fall day, I’m not yet breathless (but my cheeks are tinged red by the cutting wind). Jenny and two other girls—Caroline and Morla—are waiting at our block’s bus stop already, sitting on a provided bench with their coats pulled tightly about them and zipped up to their chins.
“Hey!” I greet cheerfully, puffing out a huge cloud of smoky breath as I speak. I grin hugely at the sight; it reminds me of dragon’s breath.
I puff out another plume just for kicks as the other girls all give me various words of welcome ranging from “What’s up?” to “Yo.”
Jenny gives me a more vocal salutation: “Ready for the experiment today?”
I nod. Yeah…that stupid grow-as-much-mold-as-possible-on-a-slice-of-bread-and-see-what-happens experiment is due today. My nose wrinkles with distaste at the thought of the fuzzy-wrapped, Ziploc-protected result of the term-long project.
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