Chatterbox: Inkwell

TAKE WING!

I know that several of you are on the NaNoWriMo Young Writers site. I wanted to share the story I'm writing on it with you all. (It's also on the Critiques and Novel Feedback" forum.) I know that you will never judge me or make fun of me. And I also know that even if nobody ever reads this story, I will have at least posted it here. I've also included a short section of it here, and a form from NaNo that tells you a little bit about it.

Length: 8,000 words so far, but more every day!

Language: English

Brief Summary: A teenage orphaned girl, Zoey, discovers her heroic destiny in a far-off land populated with dragons, Fae, unicorns, and so much more. But the more time she spends here, the more she realizes that not everything is as it seems. An evil is rising, and only she can stop it.

Known issues: Not everything makes as much sense on paper as it does in my head...

Critique would be much appreciated! While I do like all the "oh yeah it's great keep doing that", I also want honest feedback. If you think something could be improved upon, let me know! 

This is an excerpt from the first chapter. There's also a prologue and several more chapters. If anyone posts that they're interested in reading the rest, I'll post it.

And the prince and the princess lived happily ever after. The End.

I sigh happily and close the book of fairy tales. I’ve always liked them. Fairy tales always end well-- even if my story doesn’t.

Case in point: middle school gym class.

I’ve been “excused” from “physical activity” because I’m, apparently, “malnourished”. That’s a fancy way of saying that all the rich parents of the rich kids at the oh-so-fancy Northbrook Academy don’t want me messing up their kids’ PE class.

I’m the charity case here at Northbrook, picked up out of the orphanage a year and a half ago. I’ve been here ever since. They want me here to show how “kind” and “generous” they are, by allowing a nobody like me to have an education as good as people like them.

Or so I’m told, only about, oh, one million or so times a day.

“Hey, charity case!” one of the other students calls as a ball rolls to a stop on the floor beside me. “Throw back the ball!”

I roll my eyes, and for a second I consider ignoring him, just out of spite.

“Fine,” I call back, and kick it vaguely in his direction. It lands at the feet of the most popular girl in the school, Shaina Wintermere. She cringes back.

“Eww! I don’t want to touch it now! The charity case touched it!” she shrieks. The class laughs, and some shoot me dirty looks-- apparently just for existing.

Shaina’s boyfriend, Justin Glendale, runs over to her.

“Kick it here,” he says, holding out his hands to catch it. The students are playing some sort of game that involves both kicking and catching.

Shaina half-heartedly nudges the ball with her toe, and he picks it up.

Justin nods at me. “Thanks,” he says, then runs back into the thick of the game.

I think the humid gym air must have muddled my malnourished brain. The most popular boy in school can’t have just looked at me, much less thanked me. I decide it’s a hallucination brought on by too many fairy tales.

By the time gym ends, I have re-read half the book of fairy tales, and the ball hasn’t rolled back over here once. When the bell rings and all the students pour out the door of the locker room, I stand up and stretch. My academy uniform-- a black pleated skirt, white collared top, and a blue tie-- is slightly too large for me, and it’s gotten all wrinkled from the folded position I’ve been in the last few hours.

I hear Shaina and her followers snicker as they pass me, their perfectly-fitting uniforms looking like they just came out of the bag. I tug self-consciously at my own uniform.

As I’m leaving the gym after the other kids, a hand lands on my shoulder. I whip around. It’s… Justin?

He falters when he sees my angry expression. That anger isn’t directed at him, exactly-- more like at Northbrook as a whole.

“I just wanted… to… um, to thank you, I guess,” he says, hesitating. “For, um, kicking that ball towards me.”

I snort. “You make it sound like some life-changing event. I kicked a ball. End of story. You’re welcome.”

Justin nods. “And, um…” Now he seems just flat-out uncomfortable. I raise an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know your name,” he blurts out, then stares at his shoes.

I shrug. “Charity case. That’s what all of you call me, isn’t it?”

I start walking away. I’ll be late if I stay talking much longer.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, and I turn slightly over my shoulder.

“What?” I ask.

Justin looks up from his inspection of his shoes to meet my eyes. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for calling you a charity case all this time. It was really mean.”

He sticks out his hand. “Justin,” he says.

“I know,” I say. “Zoey.”

Then I turn and walk away, to Ms. Muiller’s English-Language Arts class.

I hope that shows up correctly... it might not. Oh well.

~Starseeker