Whoa I've been writing.

Well, I don't want to confuse anybody, so I want to make clear that the novel I was posting excerpts from a couple weeks ago is not my camp nanowrimo novel. I started a new one for camp. AND I am finally ready to give you guys a sneak peek!

Ready?

Here goes nothing.

These are two random chapters (my chapters are really short) from the novel I'm writing. And by the way they are from two different perspectives, one from each of my main characters.

Okay. Let's go.

Chapter 13: Anna

They crawl into my mind. Images. Him. Me. It. Her. Her. Mom.

We were there but it was Fran. Only Fran. And they don’t know who to blame now. if it should be me or her but we don’t even know ourselves. If we really caused it. And Abby barely gets that Fran is gone. My father calls her a murderer. But even she doesn’t know what happened.

And then he retreated inside himself because his little jewel was gone. And never looked back.

Everything. Images of my fear. And my shivering. And the daunting task of opening my eyes. And images. His face. So worried. But not for us.The sadness you see in his eyes. The anger.

It eats at the edges of my thoughts, skim along the sides of my words, grab onto every idea in my head. Everything follows me. It doesn’t want me to be Anna. They want me to be weak. And scared. And I am.

I stare absentmindedly at Mr. Magomez. But you don’t see what I do. Nightmares overpower him. His face turns into a smirk. His eyes dark. Like my father’s.

I break away. Smile at Eric. But Every part of me knows that I can never break away.


Chapter 16: Alice

I ride the bus home. It smells like rotten candy and shampoo and weed and gum and dirty fabric and swallowed pride and touching people and rough-housing and whispered secrets and the way people talk when they’re tired. It’s horrible. But it’s almost good because it’s familiar and old and I remember when I rode the bus when I was five and it was the first day of school and I had a full belly and a bright smile and I was so scared and I sat in the way back of the bus because I didn’t know anybody. And when I was seven and we crashed and we had to switch buses and when we got on the other one Johnny Templeton sat on me because his girlfriend dared him too, but he told everyone he liked it. And then I was ten and I had food in my stomach the day when George told me he was dating this girl and she kissed him on the cheek on the bus one day and he couldn’t stop telling you about it and we all had food in our bellies.
I step off the bus, but it’s hard because it’s already hard keeping the tears at bay, because it’s hard thinking of those times. We were all so little and so innocent before hunger and anger corrupted us all. Before the world gave us a wake-up call that we should start living our lives. Back when we were so small and we were always energetic and jumping and I get off the bus and leave it all behind. All behind me.

And then I’m crying and the tears are rushing and my eyes are burning and I can’t stop asking myself “Why is it like this now? Why couldn’t it always stay the same?” and George is beside me like he always is. No questions asked. But I wish I could talk to him about it. The days when we used to be faces full of sunshine. Because we were really proud back then and now we are only pretending. It’s not our fault. It’s the world’s and I try to answer my own questions but I can’t. I never can. Because there really aren’t reasons for what happened. It just did.