Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Book/Followers

Jane here on this lovely Tuesday morning.
So I've noticed all the other blogs I read have a 'follow' button.
So, I thought, why not have followers? I know why: because people don't WANT to follow.
And why would they want to do that? I guess something's missing from my blog. Comment and tell me what you think.
 

           Okay.So yesterday I went out to eat with my family and when I came home there was a package in my mailbox. Now: I'll put it in a story, using the name Bella as me.

       The navy blue jeep pulled up to a brick house and halted slowly. Bella's heart thumped as she popped open her door and ran to the mailbox. Yes! It had come. She hugged it to her chest closely and read her name on the package.
''For Bella D. From: Children's Literature Network.''
Bella rushed over to the door where her family calmly walked inside.  She placed the package on her desk.
'' Mom!"
''Yes, honey?"
''It came!"
Sounding like a six year old excited for the first day of school, Bella slowly untaped the package and peered inside. In the yellow envelope was a book. But not just any book.
She pulled it out tortorously, wondering why she did it so slowly. She anticipated opening the cover up. Inside the cover were two bookmarks. Bella read them aloud.
''Children's Literature Network,and Teens Literature Network.''
She put them beside her and opened up the next page. As she did so, she let out a squeal. There is was! An autograph right under Heather V. Frederick's name. She showed it to her mother, who had gotten the camera and video taped like a paparazzi.
 Bella giggled. She couldn't wait to blog about it!

        As you know, I am a big fan of HVF. She's my favorite author. So when I won the book giveaway, I about died. I've never won a giveaway before. So for the next week I stared out my window when the mail came and was disappointed for all those days. That was, until I saw the mail lady come with a package to our door as we drove off to the resturaunt(more like a joint).
It was really cool. Rosetyler01 from Searching the Clouds, I hope you don't mind if I use this gif:
jonah-hill-excited_zpsd542a66e
That's an idea of how my face looked when I opened the package. Yeah. Think about this expression on Bella's face. ( I'll be posting pictures soon. Of the book, not my face. Not allowed to do that.)
   Remember to post a comment!
-Jane Blogger
P.S
Does anyone think I'll be nominated for some kind of award?

Sunday, December 29, 2013

My Favorite Anne Quotes

 Anne as in Anne of Green Gables
Oh, how I love that book!

     My first favorite quote is when she 'loses' Marilla's brooch:
''Oh, amythests are like the souls of violets,''
Now, only Anne, would and could say something so lovely, so poetical like that. I adore Anne. She's definetly a literary sister. Just like the MDBC is the Mother Daughter Book Club I don't have in real life.
The next one is when Josie Pie, Jane, and Ruby announce to Anne about the Avery award.
''It's delightful to have grand plans. It makes life so interesting.''
 Now this may not be as lovely(or quite as poetical)  as the amythest quote, but it's the way she said it. Don't you love it? Anne of Green Gables is one of my favorite books. The book before it, ''Before Green Gables,'' by Budge Wilson, is just as amazing. Depressing(this is a tear-maker, for sure) but just as amazing. It totally makes sense of how Mrs.Spencer came and got Anne and everything before that as well.
No spoilers, though. And I love the cover. I have become a sucker for good covers.
Mine was a hard cover, so it looked like this(the first one without the picture, but I have two so yeah):



  The cover will explain itself once you finish reading. I totally reccomend these books!




-In Need Of A Logo-

Jane Here.

So as I was looking across Awesome Book Assessment, and realized: 
I NEED A LOGO.
Seriously--I mean, no professional website*scoff*should ever not have a logo. 
Am I right?
Yes.
So this thought--this sudden thought--struck me over the head like a baseball bat, as Mrs.Sloane-Kinkaid would say(MDBC.).
   And with that, I venture into the logo-making world, with high hopes for beautiful logos and no price tags on them. If you catch my drift.
That's all I needed to say for today. Happy New Year!
- Jane Blogger

Alicia the Awesome

It was a chilly November morning.....

Okay, okay, I didn't REALLY meet Alicia the Awesome, but I fell across her blog and I must say it is one of the best I've read. I think I have three favorites: Awesome Book Assessment, Awkwordly Emma, and Searching the Clouds.
*puts hand on screen*
'Fellow book bloggers unite!'
Okay, anyway, Alicia is one of the best writers I know. You should really check out her blog, and it's mostly book reviews.  Best of all, she'll be hosting a post for a day :)
Awesomebookassessment.com
That should be right. Thanks, Alicia!
-Jane Blogger

Friday, December 27, 2013

My First Random Friday Post!

   Hello everyone! Happy Friday--and with this gleeful morning I bring Random Fridays.
My first one!
                                         
*Drumroll*
Writer's Problems

  Anyone else? Dreams, stray thoughts--whatever they can do to weasel themselves more lines on a page.

Writer's tongue, I suppose. It happens to me. Like, I'm sitting with a notebook or I'm dreaming characters up and I write and then I look up and forget how to speak. Some people say writers are the quiet ones.



This is true. I have the most trouble catching myself in words -- isn't that weird?

Well, that's all for today's Random Friday! Thanks, Awkwordly Emma!
- Jane Blogger    
I have a writer's problem:
 That moment when you realize the short sentence you thought up to make suspense really takes up two lines.

Bucket List~Awkordly Emma

Jane here, and here it is: My Bucket List. It's pretty pitiful.


1.  Break a Piano.
I mean, it always happens on TV but I want the pure thrill of hearing notes ring out gleefully.
2. Break a guiness world record.
Seriously, how do people do these things?
3. Like you, Emma, I would like to have a library in my cottage, which leads me to my next bullet.
4.  Own a cottage
        A cottage, the perfect place for a writer and dreamer. It'll be white or yellow with a little black roof and white lace curtains. In the spring there'll be a garden. It'll look so pretty, glazed with snow in the Winter.
5. Meet my favorite author.
 Oh, there are so many.
6. Get published--Oh how I would love to see my words in black print, sprawled across a white-as-snow page[wow, that's sounds poetic cx].
7. Get known in the Blogger World.

That's it, and as much as I hate to stop at a number like 7, I've drawn a couple of blanks. I'll update it later.
- Jane B.

Branching Out

 Hello and how'd ya  do? I'm fine.  But here's my problem:

  • I
  • need
  • new
  • books
  • desperately!
 No, seriously. I've been eating up The Wonder of Charlie Anne, but I need  new books. It's like;I have some book's parts memorized. SERIOUSLY. Anyway, I am going to release new info on myself.
  1. I want to be a teacher(I got a chalkboard for Christmas[does happy dance]!)
  2.  Or Broadway performer
  3. I have a brother who I love TO BITS [Did I already say that?]
  4.  I'm a cheerleader and an English/Book lover, which is kind of a weird mix.
  5. I'd like more people to read my blog because I've had different blogs over the years[some I created because I was bored] and finally this one seems to have the right theme.
I'd also like to be a Rockette someday, which is why some people think I'm a big dreamer.
*sigh*
That's all for now. I'm thinking of letting someone else host a post. What would you guys think of that?

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Merry Christmas!

 Merry Christmas and a  happy new year to all. I love ya'll an I'll see you guys in twenty fourteen..
With a new piece from my to-be book!
 Betcha can't wait for that. (pun-insert laugh)
Also, I'll be taking a poll for the new color scheme of  the blog. It needs more *BAM* attention, so colors are important.
Book of the year: Well, here are our nominees.
'Confetti Girl,'  By Diana Lopez
'Books 4-6 in the Mother Daughter Book Club Series,' By Heather V. Frederick
' The name of this book is Secret' By an anonymous writer
' Ruby's Slippers,' By Tricia Rayburn.
' The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,' (Sorry guys I forgot the author!)

    Most of these are children's literature and young adult reads, but if you have read ANY of them put in a word for me and I'll post opinions here.
 Please do so fast,
-Jane B.

Merry Christmas and a happy new year!

Jane here wishing everyone a Mery Chritstmas and a happy  new year.  Love ya'll. Seeya in! 2014!
(Sorry the pic is bad.  It's of  the curtain at Radio City.I saw the rockettes.)
-Jane Blogger

Monday, December 23, 2013

Writing A Book

   Hi, it's Jane here. I want to share big news:
I am going to TRY to write a book. I've thought of the name(it's for the Olivia Rake story):
*Drumroll*
Crying in the darkness
Here's an update!!!!
 The image of him, sipping coffee by himself, black button-down coat and all was too upsetting to think about. How can I not, though? My FATHER, the one who had walked away from my family a couple of months ago was still in town. I miss him. I miss his olive skin and jet black hair and hazel eyes he passed on to me. I miss the hug he used to give me, and I miss him kissing my forehead before bed and if I cried he would lull me to sleep.
 But after all that, I’m stuck with one question: Why?
            Why did he leave my mother to cry in the darkness, as she says? Why did he leave me without a goodbye or a simple ‘forgive me, my Olivia.’? And most of all, why was he in the coffee shop that day?
 The vivid image of him is painted in my mind, making me hold my stomach and shiver in fear. He looked—well, scary. For a girl who was abandoned by her parent, it’s frightening.
   Sometimes I just want to run away from everything. Just run away—but I would at least leave a note. I remember when I was 4, I was mad at my mother because she didn’t let me get ice cream because I was allergic. I was furious because all the other kids were eating it, and I pouted. I ran away from the park but then an old lady knew who I was and brought me to my mother. If I ran away and the old lady was still alive I’d be (and her as well) too old for her to bring back home.
‘’ Mom I’m going for a walk.’’ I pushed the thought of the old lady out of my mind and forced myself to be questioning my father.
‘’Okay, be back soon.’’ My mother’s voice was shaking. From crying. Sometimes I wonder why she doesn’t stop.
 I grab my journal and my jacket. I shrug on the jacket and my eyes fill with tears. It smells like my father because I hugged him every day with it on.
I shove the journal in the biggest pocket and swing open the door. I zip up the jacket, and then take a deep breath.
I run as fast as a cheetah.
I run until I think I’m far away from all my problems. I run until I’m tired. I run until I reach a soothing place.
   It really is soothing. Imagine green for miles and miles, and flowers in patches of ten.  Imagine a river right nearby. Imagine the sweet sound of birds chirping. I hop around in the meadow, hoping nobody’s around.  I fall in a heap on the floor, noticing the sun is shining and there’s no snow around.
I must be dreaming.
 Or maybe I’m not, because I can still see my father in the back of my mind.
  I run to the top of one of a million bouncing hills, and shout at the top of my lungs:
‘’WHERE ARE YOU DADDY?”
My words bounce back.
‘’ WHY CAN’T I SEE YOU?’’ I shout, tears rushing down my cheeks. All of a sudden I see a figure running.
Is that you Daddy?
The figure is saying something to me. I can feel it. Or else I’m hallucinating.  I know I’m not.
‘’NO!” I scream out to it as it fades away. ‘’DADDY DON’T LEAVE ME!!”
   But even though I couldn’t hear what he said, I made up his words in my head.

Forgive me, Olivia.


Please tell me if you like it!

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Going Mobile

Jane Blogger here!
Posting from an Android tablet.
That's right,folks. The Anything Blog is going MOBILE.
So now, I can upload pics!
Woohoo!

Oh, by the way. I made a copyright for this so nobody can steal my stories.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

Brief Synopsis& Sneek peek!

 Here's a brief synopsis of a story idea:
Olivia Rake, 13, can't handle her own emotions. But how can she? She's growing up, and her father just walked out. Meanwhile, her mother is depressed and alone. How can she possibly stay calm?
But when her best friend turns on her and  her brother gets diagnosed with cancer, she learns she can be just as strong on her own. 
Olivia Rake clings to her journal, the only one who seems to listen.

Olivia
  It's a weekend.
Now, normally, I would've been as happy as ever, but today my mother looks especially sad.
She's in bed, head in hands and cheeks wet from crying.
''Mama,'' I try to console her. ''Mama,'' I repeat, but she doesn't stop crying. I try to sound encouraging, but it's extremely hard.  My voice cracks.  Then, I relize my mom isn't fine on her own.
How can she be?
 My mother is like an ornament pretty and nice. But when people aren't careful, she can shatter into a million peices. Looking at my mom, I feel sorry and there's a deep feeling that I can't recongnize.
 I slip out of the room. 
   It's December 21st, and I take out my journal and climb up on the window  seat.
Dear Journal
   Nothing's right. My brother's off at college and my mother's here but not SAYING or DOING anything. It's like I'm all alone. As angry as I am with him,  I need my dad to come home.
I close my journal, making a mental note to add to the entry later. My mother won't mind if I sit outside. I slip on my coat and scurry outside, feeling snow rest on the brim of my eyelashes.
'' Dad come home,'' I sing softly. ''Dad come home,'' I repeat.
'' Where did you run, I need you! Please, Daddy.'' I say, my eyes filling up with tears wh`en I say Daddy.
For a moment I hear my name, in his deep, solemn voice, but I relize it's only my imagination.
 Oh, but I wish it wasn't.
                                                                 ***
''Ma, let's go swing by the coffee shop,'' I call out to her from the stairs. A smile breaks out on my face. No more whimpering!
''Ma-a!" I sing, swirling up the stairs.
'' Olivia!" My mother scolds. '' Don't startle me like that.''
''Let's go to the little shop up the street. You can't stay here like a hermit.''
  Like a mother, I leave my mother to sit there on her bed stubbornly while I take out clothes. Preferably pretty ones that she doesn't wear anymore. A black British dress with sailor-chick buttons on the top, and white tights with knee-high high heel boots.
'' Here,'' I order, placing them on the bed as she reluctantly peels off her robe. ''I'm getting ready too.''
    I walk out of the room and close the door. I needed to get out of the house. Wait a minute, where's my journal?
   I start to panick. My journal was the thing that holds my secrets, my past, the thing that if it was discovered it would hold everything you'd need in a biography. And now I had lost it!
 I started turning the house upside down. Tears sprung to my eyes. I couldn't say why that journal meant so much to me. Not in front of my mom, it would strike her as mean ; The reason was that my dad had written a letter in it, and he said not to look at it until Christmas Eve. I would never find out what it had said!
''I'm ready,'' My mom said, stumbling down the stairs. I grabbed her hand and walked out the door with her, although now I was the one who didn't want to go anywhere.
She delicately taps the sidewalk with the tip of her heels, now glazed with snow.  We get there soon, and I swing the door open, walking into a place with the smell of heaven.
While my mom went to go order, I sat down and looked through pictures and checked twitter.  She came back and sat across from me, looking more relaxed. She got whipped cream on her coffee, and she hides a big smile behind the mountain of it.
'' You know, this place brings me good memories,'' She said, eyes twinkling. ''When I was in college my girlfriends used to take me here to cheer me up.'' This earns a smile from me, but it disappears when I look over her shoulder. I freeze. My blood freezes. Time stops.  I'm sure my puils turn twice as small.Tears spring to my eyes. I look away, but I have to look back.
''Is there something wronge, Liv?" My mom asks, starting to turn around.
''NO!" I say loudly, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of her seat. ''We're going.''
My mom is so broken she doesn't notice how much I boss her around lately.
''Come ON.'' I say, pulling her. It looks immature but I don't care.
I run ahead of her, grabbing my keys out of my pocket and letting myself in. I run upstairs to my room, and slam my door. I throw myself on the bed and curl up into a ball.
My mom must've run, too, because only a few minutes later there's a knock on my door. I don't say come in, but she lets herself in anyway.
''I found your journal,'' She says softly, and something tells me she read the Christmas Eve letter.
''Thanks.'' I grumble, grabbing it away from her.
''Liv, you can tell me what happened just now. I promise I won't tell if you don't want me to.''
 But I can't tell her, I can't. Because what I had just seen wasn't able to magically erase itself. I was traumatized.
 Five little words can explain everything.
I just saw my father.

Jane here. These are irish names. Pronounced?
Caoihme: Kee-va
Ashling: (self explanatory)
Brana: Brah nah .
  Look up the meanings :) They're really cool.
Co = Ke

Ashling

I stared in the mirror. I didn't recall having so many freckles. Frowning, I take the soap and scrub at them.
'' ASHLING!" My six year old sister sings. I swiftly hide the soap behind my back, irritated. The soap bubbles up in the space between my fingers and I almost cringe. I HATE that feeling.
'' Caoihme,'' I say, embarrassed and annoyed.
'' Mammy wants you to hurry up for dinner,'' She replies matter of factly.
'' Okay, okay,'' I say. ''I'll be there in a moment.''
She skips out of the room and I shut the door, not bothering to keep it ajar. I know I'm a little too old to be trying to scrub off freckles, but....It seemed to work in the book I read. You see, this is my monthly ritual.
I do it every month and do a freckle count.
'' ASHLING!" My father calls me, his Irish accent coming out a bit. He hates to wait for dinner.
 Reluctantly, I put the soap back and wipe my face off. I slip out the door and forget to shut off the light.
 We hold hands as our father softly says grace, then we raise our heads to see what my mother will bring out.
 My sister struts in with the drinks, and the tip of my drink sloshes over.
'' Here, Ash. Sorry you don't have enough.'' She tells me and sets my drink down.
''It's fine, Co.''
Sometimes having a sister can be really annoying but every now and then she's just an angel.
 We sit in silence and eat our food. Well, my father tries to eat and bounce my sister on his knee. She eats up her mashed potatoes, too.
 After, I push back from the table. I bring my dishes to the sink sink and with a satisfying clang they fall in.

Monday, December 16, 2013

VERY IMPORTANT--Avid readers PLEASE READ!!!

Hello, everyone and anyone! It's Jane(As simple as the name is, I have noticed a few mispronounciation[although that's not a word]s. So here, this is how you pronounce JANE.
Jayeen,Jaynuh, Jayne) again, with your story update!
This is inspired by Are you there,God? It's me, Margaret. By Judy Blume. This is a great read for mothers and daughters dealing with the growing-up problem.
DO NOT COPY. PLEASE DON'T COPY ANY OF THIS CONTENT.
I just relized that I might close this whole website down.People might copy stories and publish them and make millions. ._.
I am not going to post until I decide.
                                                  -Jane B.

HEATHER VOGEL FREDERICK IF YOU ARE READING THIS- IF YOU SAW MY MESSAGE- PLEASE HELP ME MAKE THIS DESCISION! I NEED AN OPNION FROM A FELLOW WRITER'S POINT OF VIEW. W.W.E!*

*Writer's worst emergency!

Friday, December 13, 2013

Growing Up & New Story (I hope I can balance them all!)

    It'a Jane again-- Nice to virtually know that you're reading.
All I can say is: Growing up can be hard for both parents and children. I noticed this earlier today, that in order too survive that difficult stage of your life, you  need to help EACHOTHER. Why? If you're both going through the same problem, you'll need the same advice! Make sense, now?
 Be grateful for parents/people who love you.
I have another part of the story, and the new character is modeled after myself: Aveline ( aveline is not my real name, by the way)
p.s
Don't be surprised if i drop one of these suddenly. This is just a try-out charry.

Aveline

    I flip the page anxiously and practically stumble over myself.
''Watch where you're going,'' My mother tells me sternly. My brown eyes blink and scan the page again, filling with tears.
It's  a story, Aveline--A character dying happened for a specific reason. It was inevitable. I tell myself sternly, blinking back the tears. My mom's brown eyes peer at me over her glasses, which have slipped to the tip of her nose. 
    I close the book, wishing the author had chosen differently between life or death. My mother teases me about caring too much about books-- but I can't hellp it...she was my favorite character.
''Mom, I need to get to the bus before I'm late!" I called, shrugging on my jacket.
'' Okay, love you, bye, I have to...'' My mom's voice drowns out before she finishes her sentance.
'' Kay, Love ya','' I say, swinging my backpack on and stuffing my book into my backpack.
''Wait!" My mom protests, coming toward me again. '' Happy first day of school,'' She says, kissing my forehead.
''Bye, mom,'' I say, exasperated.
''Okay,okay, go,'' My mom says, shooing me out.
I scurry toward the stop, silently. I have no friends here-- but I didn't mind as much  as most people would.
I close my eyes and jog up the bus stairs, breathing through my nose intensely.
''Caught it by the skin of your teeth,'' The bus driver says, her smile broad. Suddenly I realize thar I haven't had time to brush my hair.  But I have to smile when I realize she uses one of my favorite figuritive sayings, one that I thought only I used.
I pull my brown hair back into a sloppy ponytail, and cooly slide into a seat in the front of the bus. Behind me I hear a rowdy group of boys. A glow forms on my cheeks when I realize who they are.
'' Hey Christian! Nice cut!"I hear a boy tease.
''Had no time to go to the parlour so my ma did it,'' He said in a distinct Queens accent. I loved how he used parlour, and I felt my cheeks start to glow and I instantly crack my book open.
That is, until the drama starts.
'' Hey, looks like you got a cut before 7th grade, too!" Christian tells me, and for a second I think he's complimenting me on my bangs(that hide my left eye), until I see he's smirking.
''Yeah,'' I say cautiously, braiding it nervously.
  The boys start to crow with laughter and I whip around to face the window. It's a good thing nobody's next to me.
All I can think is: Seventh grade is off to a rough start.*

*Note: This might be a little awkward to read because it's about her growing up, so a lot of times it has ...personal thoughts (if you get my drift)

    I saw this on Random Fridays on STC(Searching the Clouds): I just wanted to re-share :)
writer-problem-3

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

New Peice of Story


   Sarah

I spun around on my heel, screeching when I saw Lexi.
''What have you DONE?" I cried, placing my hands on her shaking shoulders. She was crying, her eyes watery. The hair styllist looked crushed.
'' It's BLACK,'' Lexi said flatly.
'' You'll look beautiful either way, Zez,'' I told her, trying not to sound too discouraging.
'' I look GOTH,'' She wailed. 
I sat next to her on the sofa, where a magazine showing a lady with the same haircut as Lexi--except on Lexi it looked like a hair block that you would put on a lego. It was boxy around her face, with wind-blown bangs--it replaced her wavy brunette hair. Her mascara was running from her crying.
'' i guess it isn't so BAD,'' She said, fingering it thoughtfully. The hairstylist brightened, then launched into a discussion about which conditioner she should use. When I saw Lexi the next morning, My mouth dropped open.
Fishnet tights, tight black leather skirt, scoop neck metallic shirt with a black leather jacket over it.
Black jewelry draped around her--well, everywhere. 
'' What have you done with my friend?" I gasped, but she popped her gum, rolled her eyes, then strode away with a girl I had never seen before.
 Behind me, I heard a patter of footsteps, someone jogging toward me from behind.
'' Hey Sarah,'' Samantha said, and I whipped around.
''Hi,'' I bark, and clipped to my words was fear. ''Sorry,'' I mumble.
'' What happened,'' Samantha asked, brown eyes glowing sympathetically.
'' Lexi's changed- I mean, I just saw her, and she was all,'' I cut myself off, searching for the right words.
'' Rebel-like?" Samantha says.
I nod. ''You saw her?"
''Yeah, and she ignored me too.''
How come you're not surprised? I wonder, and as if reading my thoughts, she says:
'' C;mon, Sarah. We were bound to drift away sometime.''

Sunday, December 8, 2013

This is the NEXT part of the Fanfiction

One word from Jane Blogger: Enjoy!

Emma

    I start to hyperventilate when I realize what's going on. 
'' Em, what's the matter?"
I can't answer. My mouth is too dry.
'' We don't need to send the texts,'' I croak.
''Why?" Says Becca, and even though I'm about to faint I think she's being dramatic.
''Mrs. Loomis published my book lampooning Stinkerbelle,'' I gasp. ''She must've found out!"
'' Oh no, guys. We can only imagine what Stinkerbelle will do to get back at you. Well, us.'' Megan says, and Cassidy blushes. We all know about Tristan. 
'' Why is she even in town?" Becca asks, when I'm finally done with my panic attack.
'' She wants to spend more time with Sophie-- at least that's what I've been told.'' Megan reports, fast as lightning.
'' Can't she just accept the fact that we're at least trying not to pull any pranks on her?" I say heatedly. ''And now look what she's done--going off and stealing my best friend .''
'' Woah,'' Cassidy crows, slapping me a high five. '' Way to get your Jane on!"
I blush. Normally Cassidy is the fiestiest of the girls in the group--well, it's a tie with her and Becca.
'' Why don't we go and try to 'comfort' her?" Megan asks. She's trying the hardest to get along with Stinkerbelle because Sophie and her are close. When she sees our puzzled expressions, she quickly says 'find out what shee has against us.'
'' But how do we know where she is?" I say, and my phone buzzes again. My friends wiggle anxiously.
I slip it out of my pocket again, and look at the message.
Stinkerbelle: Jess and I at the Concord Animal Shelter!
A picture is beside it of her holding up a kitten who's paws are up with nails revealed in protest.
'' Doesn't she normally do that with Savannah?" Becca asks.
''Duh, Annabelle met Savannah at the wedding, remember? She KNOWS she and Jess volunteer there.''
But when the next text comes in I hold my breath.

What in the world?

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Continuation of the Fanfiction!

   This is another fancfiction of the one before- enjoy!

Emma

I stare at my phone and try really hard to figure out what's going on. Could Darcy know?
'' Darcy!" I call, but immediately realize he's at Dartmouth. I miss him.
Instead, I look to my sistren. My reply all means - All of the Mother-Daughter Book Club!(Except for Jess)


Emma: Guys! Just got a text from Stinkerbelle saying see you later!
Megan: Well you get the occasional text from Annabelle, right?
Emma: Well this time a pic was tagged with it! Of her and Jess taking a pic!
Cassidy: When did it happen?
Emma: Right after Jess left I got it!
Becca: This is an emergency. Meet me at my house if you can today. R u busy, Cass?
Cassidy: Nope. No games till a week. Finally a break!
Emma: ASAP Becca's house!

I couldn't beleive it. 
'' Dad I'm going over to Becca's-- that okay?"
''Sure, Ems. Don't come back too late.''
'' I won't. ''
I sprinted to the door and swung it open. I decided that I'd walk- their house isn't so far away.
When I get there  I see Megan and Cassidy talking to Becca. She's kind of the leader( the take-charge kind, like her mother) of our sistren and so she's the one who'd sort everything out. Cassidy is't too hot on pranks now, but we still love to get our Jane on.
''Hey guys,'' I say breathlessly as they let me in. My heart starts pounding.
''Let me see your phone, Em,'' Cassidy says, holding out her hand. Megan and Becca crane over her shoulder to see the picture and text.
'' I can see it-- Right,'' She pauses before tapping the message with her fingernail.
''Open it!" Megan and Becca whine on cue anxiously.
'' Okay, okay, guys.'' 
The phone makes a 'clinky' sound and the message opens, and as the message opend, my friend's mouths opened.
'' Stinkerbelle sent you that?" Cassidy crows, incredulous.
 I nod sadly. 
'' Right when I was going to send Jess a text about my new story - a family on a farm who suddenly has to--'' I start to rant on my story before Becca clasps her hand over my mouth.
'' Off topic, Em.''
'' I have an idea,'' Says megan suddenly, startling us. '' Why don't we say, Jess can you come over to my house ASAP- Then send Annabele a text saying see you where?'' 
I think it over, cautiously. '' Good thinking, Megs,'' I declare, and feel confident because neither of them are lies.
But something goes terribly wrong.

Friday, December 6, 2013

MDBC Chapter

 I have decided to make spin-off chapters, like Fanfiction for a chapter with an event happening to a member of The Mother- Daughter Book Club

Emma H.

''Jess, I just don't know what to write!'' I exclaim in horror. She turns around, blue eyes widened in shock.
'' Emma Jane Hawthrone, you're the LAST person I'd think of to run out of ideas for a story,'' She cries, flopping  onto my bed with her thick book of astronomy in her hand.
'' I've tried poetry--'' She lets out a little giggle, probably thinking of my ''Zach Attack'' poem way back in 6th grade. That gets a laugh now. '' I've trie-- well, every type of  writing there is.'' I finish miserably, and she closes her book, which breathes cold air.
'' Time for some writer-to-writer talk.'' 
 For a minute I don't understand what she means until she drags me down the hall to my author's office. 
His 'do not disturb--on deadline' sign isn't there, so  she pushes me into his office, sending me stumbling into the room and startling him.
''  What's up?" My dad says, swiveling toward me and taking another bite of his cookie.
'' I-I don't,'' I burst into tears before I could finish. Why was this happening? Was this a sign I shouldn't be a writer? My dad looks at me sympathetically.
'' Don't know what to write?" He asks, and I nod. He passes me a tissue. ''Skim through some favorites and search for information.''
 Sure enough, I brought down all my favorite book club reads, and devoured each part of them that I love. Perfect remedy.
''Thanks, dad,'' I say, and flutter my fingers at him. I was going to see what Jess was doing downstairs--more importantly, I was going to tell her my story's new plot.
 ''She said she had to go to Colonial because doors might close and she might get in trouble. Plus, she doesn't want to miss seeing Mrs. Crandall's kids.'' My mom tells me when she sees my puzzled look.
'' K,'' I say, and slide my phone out from my pocket. I'm dying to tell Megan and Jess ( her especially ) what my new story will be about. I always tell them about my stories. Well, Jess. I start to go to 'contacts' to send a text, but before I can, a text comes in.

 It's a picture of Annabelle Fairfax and Jess! Arm in arm, smiling sweetly. Jess looks sweet as usual-- Annabelle looks, well, poisonous. A text is sent beside the picture.

Stinkerbelle: See you soon!

I started to snicker when I saw ''Stinkerbelle''( Darcy somehow rigged my phone so that whenever Annabelle sends me a text it immediately transfers to the name ''Stinkerbelle )  but then my blood froze. My fingers go numb.
What in the world is Annabelle doing with Jess?

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Another Small Post

So it's Jane Blogger again.
So it may not may Mother's Day or even Christmas ( My favorite holiday) just yet, but I realized a couple of days ago that my mom helps me with a lot. So take time to say thanks to your mom, give thanks if you had a mom, and enjoyed  her while she was with you.
   Moms can do a lot. Thanks, mom. * wipes eyes with sleeve and sniffs *
A totally unrelated question/survey:
 So I'm working on a story, and here are the names of the characters so far ( the mom is fake, and Wilfelma and Riley are best friends, and Ethel is Wilfelma's sister, Bif is a fostered sister)
1. Wilfelma ( main character
2. Riley (second main)
3. Mom ( undecided name yet, a big part of the story)
4. Ethel ( side character for Wilfelma, major character for Riley)
5. Bif ( A major character for Wilfelma)

    Please help me with these names! They sound horrible, I know.  Please give more ideas for me!!!!

 Please respond to this Mystery Character Weekly Post!
- She's a small girl of the age of 6
- Brown hair
- Bright green eyes
- Peachy skin with a few freckles across her nose

 Now it's your job to make her personality, name, and even change the age if you want! ||I got this inspiration from Saturday Story Starters of HVF's blog- Thanks Mrs. Frederick!||
   Next week I will try to mash all your ideas together to mold one character-- and even make a backstory. I will take suggestions!

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Wish You Were 'Eyre Book Review

 Hello there again, It's Jane.
She has just finsihed Wish You were 'Eyre by Heather Vogel Frederick!( She has also finsihed speaking in the third person.) So here it is.

     In the beginning of the book, it's Megan's sweet sixteen--but it's anything but sweet. Sophie Fairfax, cousin of Annabelle Fairax ( The Queen Bee who had it out for Emma two years ago in England), is staying with the Wongs because of a mix-up(long story short, her parents are getting a divorce and her grandfather doesn't think it's a good idea to expose her to it).  Lucky Megan- a kitten-stealing tres chic French girl is coming to stay with her! And worst of all- she's in their book club!

                     I have to say that I sided with the girls in the beginning of the book, but I guess that shows a sign of a what a good author HVF is,  because she was able to persuade me almost immediately. I also admit that I was a bit disappointed to see that she joined the book club I had come to know and love, but I also felt that when Becca joined and now she's one of my favorite characters! Speaking of Becca, she finds her own Mr. Rochester,(literally!) when Gram takes her to Minnesota. Cassidy is struggling with matters of the heart, too, because she's now torn between Tristan and Zach Norton. I can't say which one she chooses.
   As for Emma, Kitten-Stealing--
WAIT!!!!!!!!!!
I'm giving away all the details of the story! Sorry it's just that this is my first book review. I'd say five stars for the closing book of TMDBC, and I'm sad to say goodbye to my favorite literary sisters( I have one brother, who I love, but sometimes I cling to my literary sisters. I guess I'd love to be Emma Hawthorne's sister, because I can relate to her most. Now Megan has......company.[Slip-up!!])

               In conclusion, you should really read this book. If you can't stand change, you'll cry, beleive me, I almost did( I was able to contain my.....____*) It shows how friendship can grow, change, and strengthen as girls and women alike grow more mature and deal with struggles. Hope you like it!
                                                                                                 -Jane Blogger
*= A certain emotion that will not be revealed. I don't want to give spoilers.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

Story Update!

Here's another part of my story....it's very important
                  The walk to school was better than I expected it. No eighth grade bullies, no Mr. Amison run ins (that’s a different story).  When I got to school, I noticed something between Bonnie and Natasha. Unlike their usual chatty selves, they didn’t say a word to eachother. Natasha moped around solemnly while Bonnie sulked. Natasha had a cold and had what I call stale-bread skin.  Since she’s pale, when she has a cold her skin turns an almost pale brown (really, really pale), so much that it looks like a very light purple. Nobody stood next to her, but I decided to make an attempt.
‘’ Hi Natasha,’’ I say to her. She whipped around, looking startled. I couldn’t make out whether her eyes were blue or brown.
‘’Hi.’’ Her words were soft but flat, if that makes any sense. Those are the only words I can use to sum up how she spoke.
‘’You look down in the dumps,’’ I say bluntly. She raises an eyebrow, but tells me what’s going on.
‘’Me and Bonnie…well, Bonnie’s mad at me.’’  I didn’t ask why. While I was playing handball I heard the whole argument. I didn’t think it was too serious(I’ve been through worse), but obviously it was Natasha’s first time going through friendship troubles.
‘’ Revenge,’’ I say, taking a bite of an apple. ‘’Is best served to one who deserves it. And that Bonnie, she deserved it,’’ I add.
‘’ No way,’’ She sniffled. ‘’I’ll get in trouble.’’
‘’So? It would be totally worth it.’’
‘’ Well, I guess. What’re we going to do to her?”
‘’Well—‘’ I start, but she interrupts me.
‘’ Just one more thing…she’s been hanging out with this girl, Lizette, and I KNOW Lizette heard our argument. She smirks at me whenever she can.’’
‘’ Wait a minute, does Bonnie have a phone??” I ask, clearly plotting. Natasha nods. I beckon her to stand closer to me, and explain my plan.


                    Natasha
‘’ But how will I be able to get her PHONE?” I wail over the landline to Natallie.
‘’Look.’’ She commanded in her blunt manner. ‘’Tell you what. I’ll do the phone-stealing, and you do the friendship bracelet stealing. Alright?”
I gulped. Was this going to work?
‘’Now I asked you to get a piece of looseleaf five minutes ago.  Have it?’’ She didn’t wait for me to answer, but I let her go on. ‘’ Write down your lie and cover-up , and read it out to me.’’
‘’ Okay, but you might have to be on hold for a while. Let me go get a CD so you can listen to some music while I think of a lie.’’
                 As I walk downstairs to get the CD, my mom eyes me suspiciously, and I wince. Why was I lying just to spite my once friend?
    I pop into the CD player the CD, and it groans twice before giving into the CD.
 I sit at my desk, wondering what I should lie about.
Dear Lizette,
We were never really friends anyway.
                                                                   -Bonnie
No, that’s too harsh! Am I really mad at Bonnie or Bonnie’s new friend for replacing me? I decided on the second one and ruled that that was a good choice because it would be easier to steal’s  bracelet anyway. Plus, that would be better because since Lizette has been known to be a fake, Bonnie would think that she had stepped into a trap of a mean girl disguised as a nice friend. Perfect.
‘’Natasha?”
‘’I just finished thinking of one. Give me a minute to write it down.’’
Natalie releases an exaggerated sigh.
Bonnie: Don’t you think these friendship bracelets are SO cute?
Lizette: Uh, um…
Bonnie: (narrows eyes) Where’s yours?
Lizette: Umm….it got lost in my makeup drawer
Bonnie: (sulk)

But HOW will I steal the bracelet? Wait, I know. I’ll do some dance moves near Bonnie, and naturally she’ll try to out-do me. Then I’ll do the jerk-jerk, side to side part, and I’ll make her bracelet extra loose when we’re on the lunch line…It’ll all work out.
For the next few minutes I explain my plan to Natalie, and she’s good with it. She says she needs to get her phone but we both need to do the dirty work. I guess I have to agree.
                  Our mission launches in one hour, when school starts. I’m nervous. The fourteenth of November was this Saturday. I wondered if Bonnie would still come.
‘’You ready,’’ I whisper to Natalie once  we’re out of earshot of Lizette and Bonnie, who’s arms are linked and faces beaming, but something tells me Lizette’s beam says ‘Best friend forever!’. It seems more like ‘Ha ha ha , loser.’  And her beam was enough to make someone feel like a loser. Guess who’d be the loser, now.
‘’ Definitely,’’ She replies. I see something shiny in her clenched hand. ‘’Is that?” I ask.
She nods. ‘’ But what if it rings?” I say, alarmed to the consequences that we might be facing if it went off. ‘’I already took care of that,’’ She says.’’ First I turned it on silent, then I locked myself out for seven hours by trying a thousand different passwords.’’ She grinned. ‘’ You’ll never believe how long it took  me.’’
‘’And seven hours is the amount left of school!” I say, excited. But we still had one part of the plan for me to do.
      At lunch I make sure to sit diagonal from Lizette . It’s really easy to unclench the bracelets. I would know…I got the same ones for me and Bonnie in the beginning of the year.  We get on the lunchline, and Bonnie cuts me. I let her. When her right hand is up, I quickly loosen the bracelet which is on her left and she’s not looking.
School goes by faster than I expected it to go, and I run to Natalie to see if she got the phone.
‘’Yes!”  I say when I see her under a bush right near the school.
‘’ Now, for the text, what should we write?’’ We see that Bonnie’s already sent a text.
 Bonnie: Hey Z-Z!
I shake my head in disgust. What a bad nickname! Natalie texts the letters into the box.
Liz:  Hey. I don’t think we should be friends anymore.
‘’ No no no! That’s too nice! She needs a taste of her own medicine.’’ I declare, feeling strangely brave.
Natalie plops the  phone in my hand. I delete the words Natalie had written but not sent.   

Liz:  Bernadette,
While looking at the news, I realized that you’re a low-life loser who doesn’t deserve my friendship.  Stay in your life, not mine, OK?
                                                                                   Hope you have fun with your FRIENDS,
                                                                                                       Lizette, which you will be calling me from now on.
      My fingers are trembling above the twinkling, tempting enter sign. Should I have mercy?
Before I can choose, Natalie pushes my finger down. Oh. No.
‘’Natalie, can you give Liz’s phone back?” I ask her, feeling giddy for some reason.
‘’Sure,’’ She says. ‘’ By the way, that was a killer text.’’ She grins. ‘’It killed their friendship.’’
We walk away, grinning at the prospects of seeing a feud between Bonnie and Lizette. I feel guilty, though, and like something’s not right. I really shouldn’t have done it.
Here's the NEXT part, folks. Hope you aren't tired of reading. Please comment!
               Bonnie                                    
                            I can’t wait to see Lizette today. We planned to  meet at lunch to see if we both wore our matching earrings. Lizette doesn’t take the bus, but I do, so I have to wait until I get to school to see her.
‘’ Hey Z!” I call out to her as loud as I can, through my cracked window. It’s chilly and I know my nose is like Ruldoph’s but I ignore the freezing wind  and smile at her. That is, until the bus screeches to a stop and I whip out my phone.
I gasp. My eyes start to water as I read my text.
Lizette: Bernadette,
While looking at the news, I realized that you’re a low-life loser who doesn’t deserve my friendship.  Stay in your life, not mine, OK?
                                                                                   Hope you have fun with your FRIENDS,
                                                                                                       Lizette, which you will be calling me from now on.
 The first two things I noticed were that one, her name was full, and two, mine was, too. I can’t help but let one tear fall. I scrub at it with the sleeve of my longsleeve shirt. Why would she send me this?
‘’ Hey Bonnie!” She chirps as I approach her reluctantly. I raise an eyebrow. ‘’What’s the matter?” She asks me, oblivious.
‘’So I guess we’re not friends anymore,’’ I say awkwardly.
‘’What? No!” Lizette exclaims, eyes widening. ‘’We’re besties, remember?” She says, holding up the hand where her bracelet was supposed to be.
‘’ What? But it was right here!’’ She says again, voice cracking. ‘’ And why would you think that we’re not friends anymore?”
‘’Really.’’ I say dryly. I hold the phone up, displaying her kind text (not).
‘’ I didn’t send that!!” She says, voice rising.
‘’ I don’t believe you, Lizette. I guess you really are a bully.’’ I say coldly, regretting my words as she whips around and runs away, black uniform shoes ( that she chose to wear ) tapping the ground. She’s wiping her eyes while running, and I feel guilty, even though she was the one who sent the mean text.
        Natasha’s birthday party was tomorrow, and I needed to see pros and cons of going. So while we were going over homework, I slid lined paper onto my lap and made a list.
         PROS                                                                                       CONS
~ Cake, ice cream                                                                   ~ I have to buy a gift.
~  Suppose her birthday’s at the movies                           ~ It’ll be awkward
And I REALLY want to see that new  Disney                      ~ What if the phone incident is brought up?
Movie, Dance for Life                                                             ~  What if she wasn’t expecting me and  Invited some  people who don’t like me or                                         people who don’t like me or    Something?                                     

P.S
Sorry about the line in the middle, it looked better in Microsoft Word text. Stay tuned for more bits!

Happy Thanksgiving!

 Hi! It's Jane!
So since today is Thanksgiving, I would like you to share what you are thankful for! Even if it is for something we take for granted, it is good to be thankful for what we have. So what are you thankful for this Thanksgiving? I'm thankful for books, the Alphabet, and words. Please share any way you want!
                                                                      - Jane Blogger

Friday, November 22, 2013

Just a small post

    Hello, Jane again-
 I have noticed I am getting more followers and readers, so I encourage all of you to send me your bllog adresses- I love to read and I love reading other people's blogs!!

    I want to make a shout out to Alicia the Awesome
It'a fine if you don't finish a story- it's just that maybe you need to think a little more of how you want the story to end, and how you'll get to that. It helps me when I do that, so maybe it could help you too :)
It happens to me all the time, and it does get frustrating. And sometimes, well, the story doesn't finish, but I guess that's just the way the cookie crumbles. Good luck on your stories!
                                                                                  -Jane
 I have something to ask you all some writing questions
1. Which is your preferance, first or third person?
2. If you could bring one character to life from a book, who would it be? And vice versa.
3. Describe your dream comedy character
    I can't wait to see your entries :)          Oh by the way, i'm sorry if today's post was short. I'm working on my story so things've been a little mixed

                                                                                           -Jane Blogger

PS.
My story isn't going anywhere!!! I've been trying to get Bonnie and Natasha to make up but i can't seem to find a way! Sorry guys...I hope i don't sound too uppity

Monday, November 18, 2013

Welcome, Heather Vogel Frederick!

 Jane here, and this is inspired by Megan Wong in book 4 where she starts a blog as Fashtionista Jane!!!!
You've got me all toungue tied. What's a girl to do when her favorite author might be reading?
  So I felt really stupid when i realized you don't give critiques, so i'm so sorry for sending you that message!
Anyway, it's nice to know that an author will read your writing.
    I hope you will stay tuned for more stories and posts!
Oh, and I just finished reading 'Home for the Holidays,' and decided to actually look up Delos Lovelace. It turns out that my thoughts of Zach Norton were totally different! I also did some research on Jane Austen. It's really cool how I actually found the picture Megan 'used' for her picture of herself on her blog. I have it on a post below this. So I found myself doing some research on all of your books, basically. I have to say that it was fun looking up things said in books and finding them.

              I can only hope that this blog will be as humorous and popular as Megan's was- except hers was popular and humorous for( As Wolfgang said it)'too much snarky and not enough sweet.'
 I hope you don't mind me using so many refereances to your books. It's just that i'm like Emma Hawthrone(Uggh! Here I go AGAIN!!), she thinks through books.
       Well, I guess that's all for now. It would be so cool if you could release another book, or even one from the mothers' perspective! Good luck on your new book.
                                                                                                    - Jane
 There's a picture I found that I thought was so good and accurate!
Another genius pic:
 
  I always pictured Darcy to look just like Emma.

So could I get some reccomendations?

 Okay- so, as I said before: I LOVE to write, read, and say words. So this might sound weird, but does anyone know any really good books that they like? I'm not really into sci-fi or gore.
 So, I know no one's reading this, and I decided I should have a notebook all to myself( This is a reference to Emma Hawthrone in the MDBC series)--just for jotting down ideas. I read in a book once ( Book 4 of The Mother Daughter Book Club, by Heather Vogel  Frederick) that ideas are like stray cats- the come at the most unexpected times and if you don't take care of them and give them attention they'll just, well, go away.
   Well, i'm bursting with stray cats and haven't gotten a notebook. So therefore for now, this is my notebook.
My ideas:
1. Reveal more on Natalie's mom's persona( sparkly, bubbly, dazzly, flashy, just like Miss Jasmine)
2. The rivalry between Natalie's mom and Bonnie's mom needs to come to a truce at some point of the story- then needs to be broken again
3. Could i write a letter to Heather Vogel Frederick to get some pointers?
4. Write more poems.....I need inspiration
5. Think of using more details in looks
 Thanks for listening to boring self-notes. I really appreciate it.

P.S.
Heather Vogel Frederick? I know you might be reading this- and so I will add the next part of the story below so you can also give me some pointers on this next part:
I tried my best to get back up, and tried the step again.
Jerk and bend and jerk and right, arms over, and backbend
I manage to get every step, but the backbend went down too quickly.
I’m gonna have to learn a lot  in 5 months.
                          Bonnie
People say that me and my mom are like Laverne and Shirley. Which is true.  Aside from Nat and a couple of old friends from Long Island, Mom is the best. Her name is Lindsey, but of course I would never call her that.  The honk of a New York cab driver snaps me out of my wandering thoughts. My mom apologizes cheerily as he zooms near us, hollers something at us for jaywalking(when the sign is red), and smiles at me as we run across the street. My mom has brown hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. Her cheeks are pink because of the wintery wind that’s beating against us. We laugh as we run, her gloved hand against mine. Her high heel boots tap the cement sidewalk as my Uggs thump. We finally reach the store, and we double over with laughter. We both wheeze and gasp for air, and when we’re done, my mom crooks my hand into her elbow and we walk into a store.  My wind-blown red hair is bouncing against my shoulders, and it bobs up and down vigorously as I run toward the high heel section and try one pair on, then display my feet to my mom. She shakes her head, but laughs.  She finds herself a soft gray pair of winter boots, while I find some bright red combats that make me feel like a clown. I kind of liked the style and color, though.  Now onto clothes. My mom prods me to wear a ‘poke-your-eyeballs-out pink shirt/dress that goes down just below my knees, but  I refuse. Poke-out-yours-eyeballs-pink is what I call shades of pink that would look horrible with my hair: it would make me look too flashy. I spot a faux fur white sleeveless vest  that would go perfect with the sleek magenta longsleeve shirt I have at home, but when I check the pricetag I practically shriek.
‘’ FIFTY-SEVEN DOLLARS!!”
My mom shoots me another sharp glance, and points her finger to her lips. She’s not mad.
‘’ Not happening.’’
I grin sheepishly.
‘’Sorry,’’ I say, failing to put the vest back on the rack correctly, so all of it falls. I see a store clerk looking at me sharply. She has poofed up old lady hair, and I whip around fast enough so my mom can see that she’s approaching.  I hear a phone turn on, then I hear a small amount of air being sucked up. That’s not my mom.She’s never worried, afraid, or mad.I glance back at the lady, then burst out giggling when I see her closely. She obviously can’t apply makeup. My mom has already started to make a run for it, and I quickly follow her.
‘’Bonnie,  you need to stop getting us in trouble.’’ She has a small, miniscule twinkle in her eye though. She sounds exasperated. I squint at her. She’s NEVER—and I mean never—been exasperated with me. Something’s up……
‘’Sorry,’’ I repeat, without the sheepish grin. I puzzle for the rest of the time over what could be different. I review past events in my head.
First. Cab driver event : Mom = happy
Next: Expensive  vest: Mom = Still happy but not wanting to get in trouble.
Last: Old lady hears me drop everything : Mom = mad mad mad
    What could be wrong?  There was nothing  I could do about my mom being mad. I couldn’t be Super-Bonnie if Super-Bonnie didn’t even have a problem to solve…  So we spent the rest of the night with a small wedge between us that I couldn’t stand to face.. The more ways I thought of pushing the wedge over, the more afraid I got. Had I noticed Mom was mad for a bad reason? What if now that I knew I wouldn’t stop obsessing over it?
 It’s always been that way: Mom and Bonnie, partners in crime. But this time the familiar phrase just doesn’t ring true.
 That night I laid awake at night, thinking of what could happen. All of a sudden I hear a door slam.  I close my eyes as someone steps into my room. A familiar someone, with almost no hair and spectacles. One spectacle with a crack- but perfect otherwise. It’s Daddy.
He whispers a prayer in my ear, the familiar one about me being precious and hoping for it to stay that way. When he’s done, he kisses my forehead. With a pang, everything comes to me. It all makes sense. tears come to my eyes and I came help but let them flow. My dad doesn’t suspect a thing.
‘’Aw, Bonnie, just like when you were my little baby. Crying in your sleep.’’ He picks up my head and puts it in his arms. I lay against him until I fall asleep, and he leaves.
                 But I couldn’t sleep. It all made sense. The slammed door. The cell phone. I lay on my side, reviewing past days.
‘’ You’re wasting our money, Arnold!’’ My mom would holler. My dad would holler something I couldn’t make out.  Wasting our money on WHAT??
It was like that for many nights. The cell phone. It was my dad, texting my mom.
Not saying I love you and I’ll see you soon.
Tears sting. What if they get a divorce? As usual, my parents interrupted my thoughts.
‘’ Lindsey I lost my job,’’ My dad said in his normally deep, soothing ,voice. Now it was shaky and didn’t give me confidence that ‘everything’d be alright’.
I couldn’t bear it. I cried more. How could I not. All of a sudden, I was interested in my mom’s argument. I went near my door, and pressed my ear against the door.
‘’ Oh, oh Arnold,’’ My mom said. I couldn’t listen. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. What do you do when your partner in crime has problems of their own? Is it normal to feel like  everything’s NOT gonna be alright? I drifted into an uncomfortable, insecure,  sad, longing sleep.

 I sulk to school, but I don’t want my mom to know how I’d heard. One say of it and my mom’s whole face shape changed. She’s alwaysed looked like she’s twinkling, but today she looks like if you say something too loud, she’ll break. That’s just not my mom. That’s not Mom.
‘’Bye, Honey,’’ My mother says, holding two fingers out to start our handshake out. But I don’t feel like  doing the handshake. My mom looks hurt, but I waggle my fingers at her without a backwards glance.  She drives off anyway, and with a pang I wished I’d said goodbye. Too late now.
       I crane my neck over a couple of other people to search for Natasha. I squeeze into a crowd, then while I get pushed on the floor by a jock ( oh this isn’t the last he’s seen of THIS little sixth grader) I see her pink ballet flats. I glare up at the jock, jab my pointy elbow into his stomach as far into it as It can go, and I walk away with my head high.
‘’ Mrs. O’ Neil! Mrs. O’ Neil!’’ The jock says, looking absolutely perfect.
‘’Yes, Thomas,’’
Thomas. I needed to remember that name. Nobody pushes Bernadette around.
‘’ She hurt me,’’ I don’t giggle but I try my hardest not to. He sounds like a whiney first grader.
I widen my eyes to  make them look as big and adorable as possible.
‘’ Now Thomas Adams, what could this little darling do to hurt you? I’m ashamed that you tried to get her in trouble.’’ She scolds, walking off.
 I think of looking at him triumphantly, but he looks mad. I could be in serious hot water.
‘’I’m sorry,’’ I manage to say quietly.
He softens, and even lets out a chuckle. ‘’Little 6th grader,’’ He says, chuckling. He gives me a playful slap on the back of my head. Now I could give him my triumphant glare. I give it to him, then stick my nose a little higher in the air and walk off fast before he can hurt me.
‘’Woah, Bonnie, what happened back there?” Natasha asks me as I finally am near her. She eyes the jock—Thomas Adams—up and down.
‘’ Well, he shoved me, so I put my elbow into his stomach and he got mad and tattle-taled on me. I got out of it fast,’’ I say, shaking and still scared of the eighth grader on the inside.
‘’ You’re so brave, Bonnie!”
I think back about last night…no I’m not. But I smile and shrug instead. Should I tell Natasha? Hmm…..
                       Natasha
                 I looked at Bonnie closely. What was the matter with her? It was only 10:35 and she changed completely. She refused to dance or even talk. She wouldn’t budge.
‘’ Come on, Bonnie, what’s the matter?”
No reply.
‘’Bonnnieeeeeeee.’’ I whine.  Where was the sparkly, bubbly, excited girl who I had met not too long ago? Maybe I have a way to cheer her up. I got my lunchbox (well, I made several attempts. I had to try many times not to get squashed by the people. My final way was sticking to the wall. No one stayed by the wall. ) and pulled out a yellow envelope with a bunch of flowers on it.
‘’Here you go. My eleventh birthday is coming up and I thought you’d might want to come. It’s on the fourteenth of November.’’
I hand her the envelope, expecting Bonnie to light up and explode in her excited way of exploding about things. Instead, she blandly put the envelope in her lunchbox.
It was this way almost all lunch. On the fortieth time  I asked her, she looked at me and really hollered, ‘’I’m okay, already! Would you quit asking me? It’s none of your business, nosey! STAY IN YOUR LIFE, NOT MINE, OKAY?!”
                      I take steps back, stung. A couple of people were looking at me and Bonnie. I glared at all of them and found my way near a crowd. Unfortunately, the crowd was quite annoying. This one was a seventh grade group of girly girls. I’m a girly-girl, too, but I don’t draw attention to myself on purpose. They were talking about some boy named Bradien Smith and another one named Thomas Adams. Thomas Adams, where had I heard that name? I didn’t care- but I did. I hate it when I can’t quite put my finger on something.  They start talking about some reality TV show I’ve never heard of, and it gets to the point that I can’t bear it anymore.
I turn around, facing the street. Cars zoom by, making my hair fly and my skirt lift up a little. I anxiously cover it.
     Lunch was the hardest. I wasn’t sitting next to Bonnie. I wasn’t like that. There were NO empty seats though. This was completely different from  my old school.  So I finally found a place to put my tray: on the window seat of the girls’ bathroom. It was disgusting and I knew I probably wasn’t allowed to eat in there, but I threw out all my food when I was done and didn’t leave a trace. But when I was done I didn’t feel like leaving yet: what was the point? All that would happen was that I’d get snubbed by other students who had friends to sit next to. I look out the window. I should’ve known Bonnie would just be mean to me..or was that just sadness talking? Even if it was, sadness could be rude sometimes in my opinion.
              So for the next 15 minutes I puzzled over what made Bonnie  so mad…or sad? I was confused. I hadn’t done ANYTHING to hurt her in any way, so why was she so rude?
 But I wasn’t about to ask her.
School soon passed, and luckily there wasn’t dance today. If I had to face Bonnie again it would be too soon. When I finished all my homework it was around 5:00, so I went straight up to my room. It was small, and I sat on my bed staring out the window. I saw the sun slowly hide behind the trees, then I saw the moon rise, and then I saw stars appear.
        I stared out, as the saying about stars being like friends comes to my mind.  My mind quickly wanders to Bonnie, and I rack my brain to get any thoughts of her out, but it’s hard. It’s already time for her to come to my mind. I sigh wearily. I tackle her in my mind, unwrapping her arms from around me in a headlock as she screams out something at me.
HOLD IT.
 Bonnie isn’t like that…..what am I thinking? She’s just moody. I hit my ear to get her out of my mind, but it’s impossible.  Bonnie seemed to be my best friend, but obviously the feeling wasn’t double sided because she said for me to get out of her life.
Who could I ask for help? My mom? No. She was unreliable….she was my mom—well yeah—but she wasn’t the best for advice. The person on the other side was always right. So I decided to ask mom if I could go to the dance studio—dancing always helps me cool off, and the studio’s always open.
‘’ Sure, if you want. I’ll take you in ten minutes but right now you need to eat lunch.’’
‘’Sure, ‘’ I say, going to the table.

          Natalie
      We  stand outside of some random girl’s door with a gift basket.  Actually, my mom stands. I hide under bushes. I tug on my wavy blonde hair.
‘’ Mo—om!”
She whips around, lighting fast. Her blonde hair swings behind her. It’s lighter, more of a golden shade than my dirty blonde hair that’s curly. Her’s is  curled at the tips unnaturally .
Why does my mom have to be so friendly?
My tanned arms wriggle to get behind the bush so the lady answering the door doesn’t see me.  A woman with brown hair, and pale skin. She reminds me of this girl in my class- Vonnie, Connie?
My mom flashes her glittering smile, and the lady looks a little scared. In fact, she looks weary, but pretty. Like a piece of dirty laundry compared to my vibrant twinkly mom. I sense a bit of competition.
‘’ Well He-LLO, Jay! I heard you moved into the neighborhood.’’
My mom freezes, stricken. Who had been talking about her behind her back? This posture doesn’t last long. She straightens as if someone whacked her with a ruler on her back. With another smile, she hands the gift basket to the woman.
‘’ And I heard that…’’ My mother trails off.  Something happened to this LADY? That explains her worn appearance.
Now it’s this lady—name?—‘s turn to freeze. My mom flips her hair. ‘’ Have a nice. Day.’’
She whips around triumphantly with another poisonous smile at ‘Miss Lindsey.’ I had finally learned her name. Why’d my mom do that?
‘’ Do you know eachother?” I ask, staring up at my mother.
‘’Mhm.’’ My mom mumbles.
    So we hopped back in the car, an irritated-mom mood hovering in the air in the car. Uh oh.   This is never good. My green blue eyes flicker over the windshield to see that we’ve just ran a red light. Unfortunately, there was a cop right near us.
‘’ Ma’m, you just ran that light.’’
‘’ Yes’ir, I know.’’ She lowers her head, probably expecting a ticket for a LOT of money.
The officer clears his throat. ‘’I’ll let you off this time, ma’m. But the next time..’ He tries to keep his straight police officer face but he chuckles instead, walking off. My mom’s shaky hands grip the wheel and I smile.

‘’Wow, mom.’’


Sunday, November 10, 2013

A story i'm working on

Hi, it's Jane here. So i've been working on a story called 'It takes two(to dance a duet)' I'm thinking of a different title because this one seems to be sending the wrong message. So here it is:
            Natasha
              I love to dance. Even when I’m doing something as simple as a leap, I’m a goner. It helps me cool off, and I’ve been doing it since I was 2. Whenever I think about it, it clears my mind.  But now, that all might change.
          My pink ballet flat steps onto the cold cement sidewalk. It’s a chilly September morning, and my mom blows me a kiss as a shaking me takes her first few steps onto middle school grounds.
‘’ Love you Natasha! Have fun!”
 I wave nervously back.  My mouth is dry so I can’t say I love you back, but she zooms off anyway, satisfied. I stand there feelings like an abandoned puppy. My skin is paling from nervousness. Not that I’m not pale already.  I wrap my black blazer around me. My black skirt barely covers my shaking knees.  The sound of chatter stings me like a dart , waking me out of my dreams of dance.
         I whip around, my dark brown hair flying, following me around.  I see a group of about 3 girls, all with thick blonde hair, heavy makeup, and I notice that they’re not wearing the uniform.  I feel like a deer in headlights. I freeze. They howl with laughter.
‘’ Uniform? You actually agreed to wearing it?”
 I turn around blindly. I clutch my lunchbox.  I see a girl with one similar to mine , walking up to where I am. The way it worked was if you went to the same school, you were in one group. No one else from my school came to my middle school, so I stood alone.  The girl had brown eyes, ginger hair, and she looked liked she danced….but not ballet, like me.
‘’I-I’m Natasha,’’ I say.
‘’Bonnie,’’ She answers stiffly.  She was wearing the same uniform as me, and her curly ginger hair fell over her shoulders like a waterfall.  All of a sudden the eighth graders rush inside like milk. Seventh graders, then the tiny sixth graders like Bonnie and I toddle in awkwardly.
  I’m very confused as to where my class is,  but I was glad that most of my classes were on the first floor.  Bonnie was pretty nice about helping me find my class- she had been in the school a lot of times before because her brother Oliver is in eighth grade. I didn’t know anybody’s in my class’ name, except for Bonnie. She didn’t know anyone either, because she had come from some school in Long Island. I lived in Flushing, where my school was. We have an early lunch ‘ because we’re the babies’ as my mom and teacher described it, we have it 10:35. 
                     Lunch was crazy.  The cafeteria was huge, and I put my lunchbox  down at a corner table. Bonnie surprisingly put hers next to mine. So I decided to bring up a question.
‘’ So, Bonnie, what do you like do to?”
‘’ Well,’’ She starts. ‘’I dance.’’
‘’ What kind?”
‘’ Modern and a touch of lyrical,’’ She answers, taking a bite of her sandwich.
‘’Oh, I do ballet,’’ I say.
‘’Where do you take dance?” I ask.
‘’Stardance,’’ She replies. My eyes widen.
‘’Me, too!”
‘’No way!” She says, putting her sandwich down. She smiles, and it’s the first one I’ve seen. It’s very pretty. She doesn’t have  braces.
‘’ So are you coming to the meeting this Saturday? They’re announcing when the recital and dress rehearsal is, and they’re announcing if there are any solos, duets, or triples!” I say excitedly.
‘’ I had no idea about that! When is it?” She says, turning to face me.
‘’ This Saturday,’’ I say. The lunch aid hollers for us to get in a line so we can go outside.
Bonnie and I get into a line, chattering about past recital costumes, and funny before-recital fiascos.  It’s funny, I think. I’ve only known her for about 2 hours, and suddenly she’s like a best friend!
   When we get outside, although the playground is awfully huge, we find a quiet corner and decide to show eachother moves. I show her a pirouette, and she shows me a boxy move I have no idea what it’s called.    So then we do a little choreography together- we manage to do something together- I do a pirouette while she’s behind me doing a very pretty lyrical move that makes it look like she’s falling but she gets back up on her toes.
‘’ It was such a good day!” I say, falling on the couch. ‘’ I made a friend who goes to the same dance studio as me!”
‘’ Hmm? What’s her name?’’
‘’Bonnie. Her real name is Bernadette, though. She hates it. She takes lyrical and modern.’’
‘’Very nice,’’ My mom raises her eyebrows and inclines her head, giving my new friend her official stamp of approval.
              So the week came and went, and me and Bonnie were very good friends. Saturday finally came, and when my mom dropped me off at the studio, I saw Bonnie sitting on the chair across from the head dance teacher’s husband. They run it together. Last year he proposed to her. It’s nice. I breathe a sigh of relief. I thought Bonnie wouldn’t come. But it turns out they didn’t even start.  I hop on the stool next to her.
‘’ Bonnie!” I say.
‘’Hey Nat!” She says back, rushing to greet me. I smile and go into the studio to show her some moves I’ve been dying to show her.
     I show her them, then she shows me some moves.
‘’Wow, you’re good!”
‘’Thanks,’’ She blushes, her cheeks turning the shade of  wild red her hair has turned. Mood-hair, I suppose?
             Everyone eventually came, but me and Bonnie stuck close together. The head teacher, Miss Clara, announced something I never thought I’d hear.
‘’ Bonnie and Natasha, doing a duet. You two will be doing , Future.  Bonnie plays the future, Natasha, you play the past.’’ She beams at us.  I beam back, and I look over at Bonnie, she gives me a look. I return the look with a raised eyebrow.
‘’So do you accept the duet?”
‘’Yes, Miss Clara,’’ I reply immediately.
 Bonnie merely nods her head.
             Miss Clara said that our first practice would be in 2 days- a Monday afternoon at 5:30. We would have to practice with our costumes, because they played a big part in the dance. We both agreed to get the money by the following Friday after that Monday.
               So Monday came again- and I learned that the 5 girls I saw at the first day of school got detention for not wearing the uniform. In fact, I saw them inside the principal’s office when I went in to get my lunchbox. They sneered at me ( all three, in unison! How do they do that?), but they couldn’t even bother me when I realized they were sneering at ME when THEY were in the principal’s office.  I knew that now that I was in middle school, having a lunchbox was babyish, but at the same time I didn’t want to let them effect my decisions on what I was going to do. When I told Bonnie, she agreed.
‘’They’re just idiots that you have to deal with- they’re laughing at you now, but think, who’s gonna be the youngest one in school next year? That’s right, them.’’
 Bonnie’s pep talk made me feel good, like a slap on the back that massages that little muscle, or cool water going on your face when you’re not expecting it. I nod . Bonnie was right. They were in no place, even if they’re older than us. Even though I nod, I still have doubt.
‘’Are all eighth graders like that?” I say quietly. I look around me. This is like being an ice cube, trapped in a realm of fire.
‘’ No way!” Bonnie says. I’m not sure if she’s talking about my question, or is she exclaiming like that in response to the food fight between 7 eighth graders in front of us. She turns to me.
‘’ My brother can be a real doof sometimes, but he wouldn’t make you feel like a loser if he wasn’t mad at you.’’
‘’ I guess….but the majority of eighth graders looks like such….stupid people. Like,’’ I say, looking for words to explain.  ‘’ If you start a food fight, you know you’re going to get in trouble. And who would want that?” I say, confused.
‘’ Nat, it’s just like this: They. Want . Attention. Their mothers and fathers probably don’t care.’’
I shrug.

          So that was our conversation. That day was practice, so me and Bonnie would see eachother again to practice Future. 
'' Bonnie, come on! You're not getting this choreography.'' I whine wearily.
'' I can't help it if i don't dance BALLET,'' She says stubbornly.
''Come on, it's pirouette, pirouette pirouette, point, leap, leap, and fall. You've got the pirouette part down!"
I say. ''Let's try it again.''
     Future is a dramatic peice, with a dramatic classical peice in the beginnning, then after a couple of big clashes of symbols, we fall and that's where Future comes in, and we do a modern-style dance with a lot of complicated moves. Our costumes are cool. For the first part i wear a white sundress and sparkly black gloves, and the background is black, and for that part Bonnie plays my shadow. When we fall, Bonnie falls behind me and takes off her black bodysuit, revealing a vibrant paint-splattered shirt with metallic silver pants and blue techno glasses.
'' Fine,'' She says, and gets up from her crouching position.
''A one-two-three and pirouette, pirouette, pirouette point, leap leap, fall,'' I say.
''That was perfect, guys! Let's work on the modern part of it.'' Miss Clara says, clapping her hands. 
''Okay, so you're gonna jerk your elbow to the left with your left, then same to right.'' It feels weird learning a type of dance i've never learned before. But i have to , because in this part of the dance Bonnie is in front and i'm behind. I look in the mirror and see Bonnie watching me. She didn't have to learn this peice. I make a face at her, but do the moves. 
''Okay,so now you're gonna jerk them out at the same time, bring them above your head, and fall back into a bridge.''
I try the bridge, but fail miserably and bump my head on the ground.
''I can't do this,'' I mumble.
''Yes you can,'' Miss Clara says sternly, heling me up. ''You're a dancer. I know you can.''
Those were the only words i needed to hear.