Young Writers Society

This is a scene from what hopefully will turn out to be a book. I'd really appreciate some help with it. -penny

...I didn’t make it to my stay room on board for about an hour after departure. I was caught immediately by the waves and drawn to the side of the boat like a cat to a fish bowl. And there I stayed for a full sixty minutes. I’d always imagined the waves to be deep royal blue, but they’re not really. Not compared to the sky, at least. The sky was blue, but the water, the water wasn’t a color at all. It was just there. It was black or white and sometimes the sun shone on it with such effort that you couldn’t really see anything but the reflection of your face looking into it, and at that moment the water was whatever color you wanted it to be. So, I stared into that water until I had seen every color in a box of ninety-six.

It wasn’t until people began to stare at me that I picked up my suitcase, purse and favorite pillow and went hunting for room number 847. It didn’t take me long once I stopped looking at things and I pushed open the door with my hip and gladly threw my bags onto the bed. I took out my laptop, my pride and joy, and sat down at the desk ready to write. I had started a story before I left Florida, but considering that it wasn’t flowing out of me as I had hoped, I decided to start a new one. Looking around for something to provide me with a connotation I saw a place card sitting in front of the lamp by the bed. I walked to it and picked it up. Under neath was a small, plastic card much like the gift certificates I used to get from the bookstore. Reading the note I discovered that “As a first time passenger with Blue Diamond Travels, Inc. [I was] entitled to one free espresso of [my] choice from the Amethyst Lounge coffee stand.”

I carefully scooped up my computer and the card and started toward the Lounge. Not knowing exactly where the Lounge was, of course, I ended up first on the bow of the ship where at least a dozen people looked at me as if my hair was a color they had never seen before. I continued to wander aimlessly and within seconds I lost interest in paying attention to where I was going. As a made a left turn around a corner I found someone else who had ceased to pay attention. I ran my face straight into the chest of a uniquely handsome, dark-headed young man. And because he happened to be eating a cone of ice cream, it naturally and predictably was then sitting on top of my utterly bewildered head.

“Oh Lord,” he said to me in a resonant voice, “I really should learn not to eat ice cream and walk at the same time. My apologies.”

He smiled. Contagiously, I smiled in return.

“No, don’t worry about it,” I staggered, “It was partly my fault.”

“Oh, so you are blaming me?” he asked, grinning sheepishly.

“Well I’m certainly not going to hand over my pride to someone who eats the wrong flavor of ice cream. You see, some of it has now rolled down my face and, consequently, into my mouth. And come to find out, it’s vanilla.”

He looked around as if to find an alibi, “So?”

“Well, vanilla isn’t a very daring flavor, is it?”

He looked stunned.

I continued, “Judging by your choice of flavors, I’d have to say that it’s possible that you are indeed a very bland and uninteresting person.” I smiled genuinely.

“Well,” he laughed, “judging by the way you walk, I’m positive you live in a completely different world then the rest of us...vanilla ice cream eaters. So, naturally, your opinion can easily be overlooked.”

I laughed and presented my hand that wasn’t holding my computer, “I’m Adelyn and I’m very pleased to meet you, even though I really do disagree with vanilla ice cream.”

Placing his hand in mine, “Terry. And it was the only flavor they had.”

He winked.

An hour and a half. I had ninety minutes to un-vanilla my hair, find a decently dressy outfit and meet Terry at the scene of the crime. He had asked me to dinner. I smiled at myself in the mirror as I repeated the phrase aloud.

“He asked me to dinner,” in a higher tone, “He asked me. To dinner. He asked. Me. To dinner. HE ASKED ME TO DINNER!”

I laughed aloud and let myself collapse across the bed.

“Oh crap,” I said, “what the hell am I gonna wear.”...