Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Wednesday WIP day



First off, could you go like my profile pic on Facebook? I'm in a contest where I could win $1000 from my kickboxing club.

And without further ado, my WIP.

I believe this is a continuation of the section I posted last week, from my WIP Revelation: Book One of the Divination Chronicles.

Mary and I head to the gym; P.E. is our only class together. We enter the locker room and pull out our second hand gym clothes. As Infidels, we’re not even allowed to shop at stores that sell new clothing. We have to shop at thrift and vintage stores, which I don’t mind so much for everyday clothing, but finding tennis shoes that aren’t worn out is a near impossible task.

As I’m tying up my laces, a voice that makes me cringe every time I hear it says, “Nice shoes. Looks like a pair I had two years ago.” Emily Paine, a fitting last name. She’s a pain in the ass to anyone below Disciple standing. She’s flanked by the pair of idiots that follow her around like shadows, Ashley and Olivia.  They stand there, stupid evil grins on their faces. All blonde, all beautiful, all bitches.

“Hello Emily, Satan give you the day off?”

She leans over and points a perfectly manicured red nail in my face, “You better watch the Satan talk, Danica, you could be labeled a Radical, and you know what happens to Radicals.”

I look her square in the eyes. She doesn’t scare me. Her parents may be high up in the caste system, but my dad is a surgeon, and those aren’t easy to come by these days. “Don’t you have soul to suck or something?”

She crosses her arms over her overstuffed bra, juts her hip out and stands there a moment, staring at me, frustrated expression on her face, more than likely trying to come up with a comeback.  She finally says, “Your shorts are ugly.” Then she turns around and walks away. Olivia and Ashley humph at me, then follow.

As they all walk like runway models down the narrow strip between rows of lockers I shout after them, “So’s your mom!”

Mary says, “You shouldn’t mess with Emily.”

“She’s a heinous bitch.” I finish tying my laces.

Mary stands and looks at me gravely, “A heinous bitch with powerful parents who can make your parent’s life miserable.”
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John Messina, Personal Injury Attorney

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