There are going to be lots of exclamations points throughout November, in case that wasn’t completely obvious. Anyway, I reached 25k last night! YES! Halfway there :DD
I have a ton of homework to do, blegh. Books to read and edit. I’m supposed to go over the second chapter of Summer Rush and give it its preliminary assessment. I might even start rewriting chapter one. Oh, and I have to write on California Girl. So much to do. Summer Rush is so close to the top five, I can almost taste it!
So, I hate looking at really short posts. Most likely I’ll be throwing in random NaNo novel excerpts constantly just so the post will have some bulk to it. This one is from Not Another Stupid Romance (which, by the way, I’m still having some trouble with. But I have grand plans for it, so hopefully it’ll get straightened out today! Here’s hoping.)
I was the first one to sit down at the picnic table under the big oak tree in the courtyard. I set my brown bagged lunch on the table and pulled out my sketchpad. One of the few things Reece and I had in common was photography. She did fashion. I did random. But I always liked to sketch my potential photographs first.
Something slammed into the table. I looked up. Oh, no. It was The Guy Catalogue. Reece was just visible behind the five hundred page book.
“You don’t like Braxton? There are two hundred other guys in this school.” She sat down and shoved the Guy Catalogue towards me. It was a comprehensive guide to every guy in our school. There were five copies of it circulating the halls but she had the master. After all, she’d written it.
“I am not going through that book. Ever.” I opened my lunch and took out my PB&J. “I don’t have time.”
“You will look through this book and pick a guy or I will shoot you.”
“Or I’ll shoot myself.”
“Or I’ll shoot you.” She snatched my sandwich and my sketchbook. “You look through that darn book, Dancer.”
I sighed and opened the darn book. There was an index but I knew all the guys were listed first according to age, then alphabetically. “I don’t want to do this. I have dance practice after school and I was going to do my homework right now–”
“Hush. Read the book.” She took a bite of my sandwich and studied my sketch. “This is good, Dan. How’re you planning on taking a picture of an elephant with three men on its head?”
“That was just a random sketch. How many of these profiles do I have to look at before you stop torturing me?”
“I marked the ones I deemed acceptable. There are only four.”
I flipped through the pages until I found the first marker. It was Braxton Diablo. Everybody in Wadsworth would put their hand down in front of him just so they could say Braxton Diablo had stepped on their fingers.
“I told you, no way.” I turned the page. Josh Turner. He was in my math class, incredibly obnoxious, and a player on the soccer team with Lesharo. “No.”
“You didn’t even look at the profile! You have no idea how long it took me to compile all of that information.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Yes, I do. I was sitting right there with you, compiling my butt off. I could argue that I’m responsible for at least half the information in this book.”
“Sorry, did you want to be named a co-author?” Reece teased.
“And be connected with this? Why are you eating my sandwich?”
“Because. Just because.” Reece polished off the rest of the sandwich and then leaned forward, resting her chin on her elbows. “Read the page on Braxton. He’s the sweetest guy, Dan, you know that.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”
Reece blew out her breath. “Why do you have to be so argumentative? Can’t you see I’m doing this for your own good?”
“By starving me to death?” I countered, slamming the book shut.
“What are you talking about?”
“You just ate my lunch.” I took a puny applesauce cup out of my lunch bag. “Where are your friends? Somebody needs to take your attention off of me before you become so fixated that you can’t focus on anything else.”
“You want somebody to take my attention off you?” She stood up and waved. “Hey, Braxton!”
“Sit down!” I hissed.
“Could you come over here for a second?” She smiled at me. “You’ll thank me one day, I promise. C’mon, Braxton! My poodle runs faster than that!”
I put my head down on the table, remembered that wretched book, and pushed it away from me so fast it almost fell off the table. I’d rather fail school than be caught dead with that book.
Braxton jogged towards our table. Practically every eye in the schoolyard followed him. He was an impressive athlete. I knew that. He was over six feet tall, perfect tan, golden blonde hair, bright blue eyes; and he did the sexiest fake English accent known to mankind. I had no great respect for his intellect, but hey. Not everyone can be perfect.
That did not mean I was going to become the thirty-fourth girl he’d dated.