Another Chapter

So - have another one due this week. This is the chapter that would immediately follow my last post.
I'm working under the assumption that eventually I'll quit posting chapters here or I'll be in that "milk for free" situation if I ever try to publish it. Of course - that implies finishing it at some point and I'm still challenged on the overall plot.. but maybe I'll get there.
Shout out to Ben Folds for inspiring Eff U and to Stephenie Meyer for writing a kick ass Twilight Saga that will still be relevant long enough for me to maybe sell a book that references it (and hopefully not get sued).

Here ya go:

The Stevers clan was big on maintaining family traditions. Actually, to be perfectly accurate – mom and dad were big on honoring traditions. Krista and Claire fought them progressively more each year as they realized that, in their family, a “tradition” was typically mom and dad’s way of throwing a grand & alliteration-filled label on something that was usually pretty lame. For example, their “Stevers’ Semi-Annual Sunshine Sensation” was really just dad’s way of getting the shrubs trimmed and flowers planted for free twice a year. In a similar disappointing vein, their “Stevers’ Saturday Swallow Soirée” was really just the ‘rents way of milking Krista and Claire for information on school and their social lives under the guise of an elaborately home-cooked breakfast. If you want to get real particular about it, the breakfasts weren’t even all that elaborate anymore. Claire rarely ate and mom and dad were always watching something; right now it was their cholesterol. Since this was the Saturday morning after the homecoming game, the topics were sure to be particularly mind-numbing to Claire.

“Honey, I’m so glad you’re awake and can join us!” beamed mom as Krista walked downstairs and headed towards the kitchen. This was the first time that either mom or dad had looked up from their egg white and spinach omelet since they sat down.

Claire didn’t mind that she’d been sitting at the table in silence with them for a good 15 minutes. They were just now on their second round of mimosas and were finally starting to get some momentum. Claire had her head buried in Twilight again and was determined to finish it this weekend. Edward was SO much hotter than any of the boys at school, especially the EMO kids she hung out with – even the ones that thought they might actually BE vampires. Mystic, her best friend at school whose real name was Violet, had finished it a week ago and was having trouble keeping her mouth shut about how it ended. Not cool.

“Hi, mom. Hi, dad. Do we have any grapefruit?” asked Krista. She was on her latest cheerleader-approved weight loss plan that involved consuming a freighting number of citrus and little else. A great side-effect was she had terrific breath but that was offset by a new-found gaseousness – very lady like.

“Sure thing, kitten. The grapefruit’s in the refrigerator like it’s been all week. How did you like the game last night? You and Chas do anything fun afterwards?” asked dad. He was at the game but it was obvious to everyone at the table that he was really fishing for details as to why his daughter wasn’t home by the previously promised one o’clock curfew.

In true Krista fashion, she avoided that question completely. “The game was great. Don’t you think I looked stunning riding around the field in that sweet new Plexus convertible? I thought I was going to have to smack Kelli because she was suppose to ride in the Plexus but it totally matched my dress way better and everyone knows that silver brings out my eyes. I finally just reminded her that I was the captain of the cheerleading squad and SHE was ONLY a lieutenant and EVERYBODY knows that a captain outranks a lieutenant. I mean, like really. What the F.., I mean, hell, was she thinking? On top of that, her shoes were from last year’s collection. I mean, someone could’ve totally looked down from the stands and saw them. You just can’t DO that in a Plexus. Tragedy avoided and I looked hot… so very hot. Some people… ugh.” After that short speech, dad’s eyes had glazed over, mom sucking down her 3rd mimosa, and Claire was almost envious of her sister’s ability to bore people to death in order to avoid answering a direct question. That was almost a trait worth learning.

“So dad, how’re things at Eff U?”

Those words, like always, caused dad to listen up and put on his ‘now kids’ face. Dad was a professor at Effingham College which was named Effingham University back before the world become crass. The president of the school eventually changed the official title, but the nickname stuck. It was known colloquially as ‘Eff U’ across all the neighboring states. With a moniker like that, it was doomed as only people with a tweaked sense of humor wanted it to be their alma mater. Dad taught entry-level literature classes so he was always busy as many locals started out at Eff U for financial reasons.

“Classes are going great, Krista. We’re studying 18th century English literature at the moment. Friday I had the class reading Pope and debating whether they thought he was being ironic or if truly he meant for the English to eat Irish babies. I was somewhat delighted by the unanimous result of the dialog. We’ve never landed on ‘Eat the Irish’ before.” At this point, you could almost hear crickets chirruping in the background as once again, the Soirée conversation had ground to a halt by one of dad’s completely creep-tastic comments. When it came to being a dad, the man was half Ward Cleaver and half Peter Griffin. Mom, on the other hand was sort of a chemically enhanced Carol Brady – more on her another time.

“Yeah…dad…okay… Hey Goth-girl, what are your plans for the day? Are you going to sit in your room and be sad, read about dead people, or write pathetic poetry? Just wondering how you’re spending the afternoon so I know how best to annoy you. I figure I need to put the final touches on my homecoming queen acceptance speech and then head over to Nicole’s so that we can do each other’s makeup and get ready for the dance. With that kind of busy schedule, I need to optimize my harassment so that you’ll cave in the least amount of time and loan me the damn necklace I asked for last night. I can’t believe you’re being so bitchy.”

“Language, young lady,” sighed dad.

“First - I’m EMO, not Goth. Second - dead people,” replied Claire. “God, I’m so glad that you are not my real family. You guys are a freak show.” And with that, she picked up her book and headed to her room.

“What’d she mean by that comment?” asked dad.

“What was that about Eff U and the Pope?” redirected Krista with a mischievous grin.

A Chapter - Be Gentle

OK - This is totally me going out on a limb here and being all "vulnerable" and "exposed" and those of you who know me well enough to be reading this blog know that I'm not good at that...

We had to write a chapter for class tomorrow. Didn't have to be the first chapter (which is great news) but it had to be a chapter. I'm at a loss because I know lots of stuff about my characters - but not a lot about my plot. Well - I'm sharing it here - and I need you to be gentle to me. I get feedback in class tomorrow, so I might make my updates here OR I might just pull it off my blog and cry (she says only half-jokingly).

So - here goes...

To Claire, it was a typical Friday night in September, translation, “Ugh, football season”. That meant a lot of things. First – Krista was going to be extra perky because she’d be in the spotlight at “the game”. Rumor was that she’d made it to the top of the pyramid, god help her. Second – the diner would be particularly crowded by about 10pm with people high on hot chocolate and football fever. Claire and her friends would have to listen to everyone talk about “the game” while they discussed politics and poetry and drank coffee. Third – and worst of all – she knew she’d dream about Charlie again tonight. Totally unfortunate since he was both her sister’s boyfriend and captain of the football team and those things should make him completely repulsive to her. What Claire had somehow forgotten was that tonight was doomed to be even worse than most as it wasn’t just any old football game, it was homecoming. And even more monumentally awful, Krista was favored to be the homecoming queen.

Claire was in her room, steadfastly ignoring the fact football season. She was lying on the feinting couch she’d inherited (a.k.a. begged mercilessly for) from her grandmother. Whenever she sat there reading books, she felt it gave her a vaguely romantic and despondent appearance that almost made up for the fact that she was cursed with rosy cheeks, sun-kissed blonde hair, and an affinity for a certain jock. Currently she was re-reading Twilight but she had her copy of Catcher in the Rye close by in case someone important happened by.

Without so much as a warning shot, in barged Krista barking, “I don’t know why grandma felt compelled to give you beautiful things. They’re totally lost on you and your sad self. It would’ve been more fitting for her to leave you that shrunken head she got in Borneo.” Krista headed straight towards Claire’s dresser and started rifling through the drawer where she kept all her most cherished possessions. As she tossed aside a silk Asian scarf, a worry stone, and Claire’s cherry condition copy of The Beatles, she triumphed, “I found it!” and turned to leave.

“Why in god’s name do you look like something a Barbie threw up? And where in the hell do you think you’re going with my stuff?!” bellowed Claire. “The typical cheerleader skirts are bad enough, but what’s up with all that hot pink crap you’re wearing? Did you lose a bet? You must’ve because your shoes are even dyed to match.”

“You know that I’m up for homecoming queen tonight,” responded Krista, “and it’s not my fault you don’t know a beautiful outfit when you see it. God, you can be such a troll. For your information, a dress just like this was in People just last week on Katie Holmes and you know people are always saying I look just like her.”

“Just like her ass…,” replied Claire. Krista was always claiming that people said she looked ‘just like’ someone famous. Interestingly enough, it was usually just another one of her shallow friends saying it in order to get a compliment in return. The only person that Krista even marginally resembled was that brainy girl from the original 90210 and she wasn’t even all that pretty.

“Whatever!” was the only reply that Krista could manage through her irritation. “I’m borrowing your beaded necklace. It’s the perfect finishing touch to my look, and it’s not like you need something this pretty to go with your green Doc Martens. So - just chill and go back to reading that vampire book that you like to pretend you’re too cool to actually own.” Claire was totally busted.

“You’re not talking about the necklace grandma gave me?” asked Claire. “She gave that to me. Not you. She knew that you would sully it by wearing it with Barbie puke dresses. She was smart not to trust you with it. She’d roll over in her grave if she knew what you have planned for it. Hand it here. Now! Don’t make me thump the crap out of you because a big purple knot would NOT go well with your heels.” Claire stood up, ready to attack, and noticed that she wasn’t even wearing her Doc Martens at the moment. Not that she didn’t wear them a lot – but Krista needed to get her facts straight if she was going to pick a fight. “And for your information – these are flats, not Doc Martens. Want to see how one feels when it’s kicking your ass? I asked you to give me back my necklace. At this point, I’m telling you.”

“You’re impossible,” answered Krista as she flung the object of the quarrel at Claire’s feet. “Here’s your precious damn necklace. Never mind that you never wear it. Never mind how great it will go with my tiara once I win. Never mind that she wasn’t even your freaking grandma anyway.” With that, Krista turned to leave.

“Wait! What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Claire. “She’s my grandma just as much as she was yours!”

“True,” smirked Krista, “but only if you ignore the fact that you’re adopted.” With that – she slammed the door and walked away.

Claire was shocked; she collapsed down on the couch in disbelief. A smile crept across her face. This might be the best news she’d heard in years. What if Krista was right? How awesome would that be? She was so busy contemplating the implications of the news; she failed to hear the horn honk when Chas showed up to pick up her sister for the big game. She didn’t even remember to roll her eyes at the cliché of the cheerleader going to homecoming with the captain of the football team. All she could think was, “maybe there is a god."