I was a thinker from a young age. So I resent the suggestion that young people don’t think. Or have irrelevant experiences. Or just need to grow up. Because those very tender and vulnerable years are when I learned so much about myself. My needs. My fears. My dreams.
Allow me to introduce you to my friend and co-author at Playlist Fiction, Laura Anderson Kurk. She gets teens. But not only that, she’s a superb writer who has a gift with words. She’s taught me so much in a short amount of time. On top of giving me a story that will stay with me forever. Glass Girl is an incredibly beautiful story of how something new can come of something broken. Life after loss. Love that shows up when you least expect it. But need it most. Meg’s story will take you by the hand and walk you through her journey of pain. And healing. And hope. A story that continues in the sequelPerfect Glass, which I am just as eager to pick up this June. On or around the same time as Swimming Through Clouds, my first YA Book. Ever! Yikes! Continue reading →
FICTION Friday. Already!?! Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7. In case you’re new. Dive right in returning Crush Me seekers!
Bang. Bang. Bang. I don’t see anyone through the small window on the exit door. The door that locked behind me. When I stepped outside to run away from Gage and his broken Kermit heart. Bell sounds, and students begin to flood the hallways. Someone? Anyone? Just open the stupid door already. But they stream by like I’m invisible. Invisible Meena. For the fleeting moments Gage or Jay make me feel alive, so quickly I return to my usual state. Of here but not all there. I turn around and measure the fence with my eyes. I can climb most trees. Maybe if I start—
“Meena?” Door pushes toward me, and I see Jay balancing his crutches with his books. “What are you doing—? Forget it. Just get back in before you get another deet from Mr. Deadhead. He’s roaming the halls now, pen and pink slips cocked like he’s hunting or something.” Jason laughs at his own joke.
I’m still stuck and struck by the fact that he opened the door for me. What a gentleman! “Gimme your books. Lunch right?”
“Awesome.” Without hesitation, Jay pretty much drops his books into my arms, and we start making our way toward the scents of cafeteria casseroles. Continue reading →
“I’ll take your books, Dude.” Ben picks up Jay’s stack before he can oppose.
Jay shoots me a shoulder shrug, follows Ben toward the door and then turns to say, “I’ll catch you at lunch?” He’s talking to me. Catch? Already caught. So caught up in you, I can barely manage a nod.
I rise to hurry to my third period, Bio lab. Gage and I are lab partners, our desk next to the window looking out to the school courtyard. Perfect place to daydream on write up days. Today is a lab day, Operation Dissect Kermit, phase one. Continue reading →
I walk into math class and sit in my usual spot. I can hear the snickers all around me but that doesn’t hurt as much as the, “Meeeee-na” whispers when I turn and am greeted with a bubblegum bubble-covered smirk and then a pop. Like my world. Deflating with each jab, I have no control of the rejection that fences me in.
Until I take the sharpened pencil and slip it under my shirt, just at the waistline. Under my desk where no one can see. With my two fingers, I find the cut, just days old, still scabbing and not healed yet. Not stupid enough to slice along my wrists. Or even on my thighs. That’s what all the predictable girls do. The ones who prefer an audience for their pain.
I trace the bumpy skin until my fingertips find the start of my newest scar on my waist, grit my teeth and poke hard. With the tip of my pencil til I feel the skin break. I’m a writer. I call it rewriting my story. With lines of pain. Just one more reason I love pencils. Continue reading →
Where were we? Ah, yes… the bubblegum episode. If you missed Parts One or Twoof this Novel in Progress, Bit by Bit, Soap Story thingy I’m trying, hop on back and catch up. Then Hop forward and read today’s episode.
The next morning, mom tells me she’s working from home. As a project manager for Wells Fargo, she likes to boss her employees around, but she also loves them enough to do it via emails once or twice a week. When she camps out in her makeshift office, really a corner in my parents’ bedroom with the least amount of clutter. But since she’s home, skipping is out of the question. Unless I pretend to go to school and go elsewhere, but that never works since the first place the school calls is always the house.
Nothing like New York city in the fall. I try to focus on the changing leaves on my walk along Central Park and decide to detour by Belvedere’s castle in order to arrive at school ten minutes late. Just need the hallways to be empty so I can enter under the radar. And then I’ll jet a few minutes early to make my Potter with-the-cape exit.
Buzzed into the front door, Mr. Jones, the school Dean of Discipline, aptly nicknamed Dean Dread or Dean Dead depending on who you ask, greets me. He is not smiling. “You’re late. And Ms. Meena. If your locker’s not cleaned up by the time the first lunch bell sounds, detentions for an entire week.” Continue reading →
The school day ends like any other day. I drifted through the high school hallways like an invisible princess, wearing an invisible crown, in search for my visible prince. My life is the kind of fairy tale girls envy. The girls who wish they were invisible, that is.
“Jay! We’re late for practice! Let’s jet before coach makes us do crawling push-ups across the field again!” Ben says loudly from near my locker.
Ben says everything loudly. But blond Ben is not who I’m listening for. Who I’m fixed on. Jason, Jay, my visible/invisible prince with dark waves that match his dark brown eyes, borrowed my pencil this morning. Visible because I can see him. Invisible because he can’t see me. He still has my pencil.
Just as I reach my locker, Ben and Jay slam their lockers closed and walk past me. No “Hey, what’s up?” No, “Thanks for the pencil.” Because no one can see the invisible girl.
My pencil! He stuck it to my locker, just above my combination lock. With the help of chewed up bubblegum. I glance left and right to make sure I don’t have an audience, pull off the pencil with the gum still stuck to it and pop the small pink wad into my mouth. Continue reading →
[Welcome back to FICTION FRIDAY all you lovely Readers! A little story inspired at the bus stop this morning. Enjoy! ]
Open my locker Friday morning to buy time. Everything I need for the day is already in my backpack. Fiddle with the pencils in the small, hot pink container magnetically stuck to the inside door. Just need to look like I’m trying to choose one. Run my fingertips along the top of my remaining text books on the floor of the metal niche. Just need to look like I’m looking for something.
Just about the time my index finger catches a corner of Beginner’s French, I hear your voice. “Ouch.” Thanks. Now I have a stinging slit to remind me all day that you distract me. Because you do. Distract me. Continue reading →