I’m taking the lazy way out today. I’m working on a deadline this week, and I think every class I teach had a paper due over the weekend (how does it always work that way?). And so . . . I’m leaving you with an excerpt of One Wish to read and (hopefully) enjoy. I’d post something from my WIP, which I hit 55k on last night, but I don’t think it’s in a state where I’m ready to share.
Urban Fantasy is way fun to write, but I’m not used to all the action . . . like car crashes and fires . . . and I think a character is going to DIE. I’ve never killed a character before. It should prove interesting. More on that later, though.
Don’t forget I’m hosting a contest until the end of the month! The details are here: http://leighbrescia.livejournal.com/18881.html
It’s open to girls ages 13-18 anywhere in the world. If you know a girl in this age range, feel free to forward the info!
Without further ado. . . .
Two hours later, I was standing outside in the freezing cold, waiting for my mom. “I swear, as soon as I’m sixteen, I’m applying for the first job I can get, and then I’m buying myself a car,” I muttered. My breath turned to smoke in the January air, and I rubbed my arms vigorously to keep warm. The door to the building opened behind me. I heard voices and laughter.
“Oh, I didn’t know anyone was still here,” someone called. I turned around and watched as Steven and the blonde girl who was pouring drinks earlier walked toward me.
“You can wait inside, you know. The building isn’t locked,” she continued.
“I know,” I lied. “My mom should be here any minute, though. So I was just waiting out here.”
She stuck her hand out. “I’m Frenchy, by the way. Well, my real name is Tabitha, but until April, I’m Frenchy.”
“Rizzo,” I replied.
“Oh. You’re Wrenn. I saw you at the audition. You were amazing,” she said with a sense of awe. “I mean, you were really great.”
My eyes instantly fell to my feet and I began to blush. “Thank you,” I whispered. For someone who was supposed to be a budding starlet, I wasn’t handling my newfound attention very well. “I’m kind of new at all this,” I said with a shrug.
She waved her hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” Tabitha said. “When you’re on stage for the first time, it’s such a rush. You’ll never want to leave the spotlight, not ever.”
I gave her a half-hearted smile. “I never really wanted to be in the spotlight,” I confessed.
“Well, you’re going to be there now,” she replied, stepping off the sidewalk. “So you may as well get used to it!” Tabitha waved good-bye and crossed the parking lot.
“Bye, Steven!” she called.
Steven answered, then, turning toward me, asked if I needed a ride home.
“No, it’s okay—really. My mom is on her way.” I glanced down at my watch. “Like, any minute now.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, if you ever need anything—a ride to rehearsal or something—I’d be glad to pick you up.”
I smiled at him. “Thanks. That’s really sweet of you.”
Steven pulled out a sheet of paper from his clipboard and a pen from the pocket on his flannel shirt. I recognized the headlights of my mother’s car fast approaching.
She pulled beside us and slowed to a stop, just as Steven handed me the piece of paper. “This is my address, phone number, and my email address. I’ll be glad to take you to and from rehearsals if your mom ever gets tired of it. I know mine sure did.”
“Okay,” I agreed, as I opened the passenger side door. “Thanks.”
As soon as the door was shut and I was safely buckled in, my mother let the questions fly. “Who was that? What’s his name? Do you like him?” And more importantly, “Does he like you?” Notice that she wasn’t at all concerned for my safety as I waited in the dark, but wanted to know all about my love life. Those were her priorities. She was almost as concerned with my love life as she was with my weight—and that was way concerned.
“His name is Steven; he’s in the play. I hardly know him.”
“Well, what’s the piece of paper he gave you?”
“His number?” she repeated. “As in his phone number?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, his Social Security number. Yes, it’s his phone number.”
“Well, you’re going to call him, right?”
“Um, no, I wasn’t planning on it. He said to call if I ever needed a ride or something.”
She looked over at me. “Or something? Wrenn, I think he likes you.” She spoke in hushed tones—like this was some huge, amazing secret.
“Likes me? Please, Mom. I don’t even know the guy.”
“All I’m saying is that you should call him.”
I watched the lights in town roll past. “I don’t have a reason.”
“Oh, I can give you a reason.”
There was a funny look in her eyes—that twinkle—and I hoped it was from her “terrific” evening with Phil and not from whatever little ideas were now running through her simple mind.
“Don’t even think about it,” I threatened. “After tonight, you owe me big-time.”
Have a great day!