The Excerpt (from the novel I'm currently writing)

So here is the excerpt from my novel that I said I'd post from my previous entry. It's as good as it's going to get so far.

Just for some background info (quick recap on previous chapters):
Danica Ambrose is the protagonist. She works at her mother's small bookshop, and she's basically a disillusioned teenager trying to find her place in the world. Except that people constantly make fun of her for being a klutz and a little socially inept. She's just had the worst day of her life a couple days ago -- first a nest of birds poop on her head, then her history homework gets lost in the wind and splattered by a passing car because a boy had pushed her out of his way that morning. This boy happens to be the same guy who had stolen her seat in history class, and who had also hit her in the face with a basketball in Gym, causing her nose to bleed and her wrist to sprain.

So what the fuck was this guy's problem?

Danica learns from a classmate rumors about this mysterious screwboy, whose name is Seth, and finds out that he has a somewhat murky past that implicates him in a murder (yes, gasp -- a murder). He apologizes to her later on, but Danica won't accept it, and she doesn't want to be near him. It doesn't help matters that she finds herself attracted to him, which makes her get angry with herself.

Meanwhile, her best friend Natalia (a hopeless, hopeless romantic) keeps trying to fix Danica up with Seth. Danica resents this, which leads to an argument between the two friends. At the end of the argument, they weren't on speaking terms, and it seemed like Nat was trying to avoid Danica. Meanwhile, Rina Van Anders, the popular girl at school, wants all the guys to herself -- including Seth, and she's devious enough to keep her jock boyfriend Chris (whom Nat's crushing on) out of the loop.

One day after school when Danica's working at the bookshop, she meets a gorgeous stranger named Caleb. He's completely charming -- a gentleman with a funny and soft poetic side. But Danica's mom doesn't trust him and tells her daughter to back off.

In between all this, Danica's been getting these disturbing dreams... Are these just mere figments of her imagination, or something much more?

I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to give me any feedback that you might have -- the good, the bad, and the ugly (as long as it's constructive, hehe).

Chapter 17

It was one fine Saturday afternoon, all right: tiring, tortuous, and migraine-worthy.

The old heavy broomstick in my hands wobbled as I tried to sweep up the crushed cookie crumbs and half-eaten brownies scattered along the floor onto the cracked, brittle plastic of the dustpan. You gotta love Mom for coming up with “Once upon a Story-time.” It was the same ditty every Saturday: Ana would bake the goodies at her house and bring it over for the little munchkins to enjoy as Mom read aloud the sugar-coated fairytale of the week and three other children’s books to thankless little booger-pickers. It was my job to make sure that the shop was as pristine as possible for the next batch of customers.

Try collecting fudge clumps and boogers off the soft rugs of the children’s corner with a damp paper towel and a scouring sponge for lack of a vacuum. You’ll have one hell of a time trying your luck.

The bells that hung over the door jingled for what must have been the billionth time today. People kept darting in and out to drop off their kids for story-time as they went into town to shop – as though Ambrosian Inkwell was some sort of free babysitting service. Even though story-time would be long over, there were always kids inside the shop during the weekend shopping rush. And once or twice during the month, “little accidents” would occur. More like big, unwanted surprises.

Such as cleaning out the bathroom of the bookshop after a toddler had just thrown a natural stink bomb in there and smeared his soiled big-kid diaper all over the walls. And which toddler is this, you wonder? It was none other than adorable little Tucker, the failed M-KASK (Mollify the Kicking and Screaming Kid) case I was supposed to handle the other day.

So you can just imagine how gung-ho I was to find out that I had to disinfect everything and watch the little bundle of joy until his parents came back to claim him because Mom and Ana were busy with the registers.

NOT FUN AT ALL.

“Oh my God, check this out,” someone giggled as a crisp page flicked over. “Seven Steps to a Brand New YOU. Step one: Finding Your Bosom’s Buddy, the Bra. According to fashion experts, 75-80% of women wear the wrong bra size… Is it wrong that I’m wearing a smaller cup size to show how big they are?”

Lovely, it was just freaking lovely that the Barbie brigade actually decided to grace Ambrosian Inkwell with their presence. I slid behind a bookcase and pulled the hood of my sweater over my head, hoping to hide from one of their scrupulous stare-downs as I peeked at them from behind a row of dusty hard-covered classics. They stood by the magazine rack near the counter, flipping through the latest issues of Cosmo, Teen Vogue, and Elle.

My knuckles went completely pallid from gripping the broomstick too tight as I tried to count the seconds until they left the shop. But between the constant bell jangling, the cash registers slamming, the incessant crying, and the loud screeching laughter of the children, it was just impossible. I gave up.

“I’m planning on getting that procedure where they suck some of the fat out of your butt and put it into your boobs instead. I mean, that still makes them real, right?”

Rina Van Anders was adjusting the straps underneath her shirt, frowning thoughtfully down at her tissues. Yes, she still adds Kleenex down there even though she’s a bona fide D, just to make sure Chris and any other guys hoping to look down her blouse don’t forget her. How do I know? She actually asked me once when we were changing in the locker room for Phys. Ed. a couple weeks ago if anything was sticking out from her lace bra. Then again… that was probably her way of letting me know I’d never measure up to her status.

“I heard that if you eat potatoes and stretch your arms out every morning, your boobs can grow another full cup size,” said a vaguely familiar voice.

My breath suddenly caught in my throat once Clarissa stepped aside. Natalia came into view, smiling and nodding as she sifted through the other magazines on the rack. Like she was one of them.

“That’s a myth,” Rina said with a hair flip. “Besides, all those extra carbs can’t be good for your ass. The spotlight’s only going to shine on your fat butt if you don’t watch it.”

“Oh, I…” Nat gazed down at the floor, struggling to keep her cool calm from flying away altogether. I could tell she was going to point out the flaw in Rina’s logic – after all, didn’t the so-called breast procedure call for lipids from the derriere? But instead Nat shook her head as though to shake off the thought, and grinned. “Never mind – you’re right. That obviously didn’t make any sense. I heard it from Danica.”

Clarissa and another girl named Valerie burst out laughing.

Rina shook her head, looking as bored as ever. “Why am I not surprised?”

“You take beauty advice from her?” asked Clarissa, still shaking from her shrill laughing fit. “No wonder you’re so lost.”

My eyes stung, and my nostrils flared up uncontrollably as I tried to bat my tears away.

“Well, maybe she’s not so hopeless after all.” Rina inspected Nat’s wavy strands, examining its thickness and silky texture. She smiled.

That smile could have been treachery in disguise. But Nat didn’t seem to care, just as long as she felt welcome in the sanctum of their inner circle. She returned that smile with a slight nod of her head.

“Don’t worry, Natalia,” Rina said, putting a hand on her shoulder with an air of confidence, “stick with us and maybe we can undo some of the damage. Who knows? Maybe we can find you a date with one of Chris’s friends just in time for Fright Night.”

“Thanks,” Nat replied in a forced cheery tone. At least, I hoped it was forced.

Why? Why was she doing this?

Was I really that horrible to be seen with, to hang out with, to… to be friends with? Her never-ending tips on de-stressing, her insistence on giving my face and wardrobe a make over, her incessant lookout for potential boyfriend material on my behalf… I should have seen it coming. She was trying to make herself look good, whereas I was just a charity case.

Our friendship was a sham.

She was probably just biding her time until popularity decided to land at her feet. And when our fight erupted she saw her chance to escape. I don’t know when she started being buddy-buddies with Rina and her crew, but it was clear that she genuinely wanted to hang out with them. Was she really content to be Rina’s new little sock puppet? Or was she just using Rina to get to Chris? Either way, I never thought she’d actually be desperate enough to ditch me, just to get drafted into Rina’s army of wannabe minions.

Though it hurt, I had to admit it: I was nothing but muck to her, the muck that held her back. And so she washed her hands clean of me.

Maybe it really was my fault. My complaining and flippant remarks must have driven her away. Seth was right – my sarcasm would someday come back to bite me in the butt.

“What are you doing? Go and help them. They’re your friends, aren’t they?” Mom brushed passed me, hurriedly dodging customers with a pile of mystery paperbacks in her arms.

I shut my eyes, willing my world to stop crashing in on me. But of course, that was hardly a fool-proof plan. I could hear Nat and the gaggle burst out laughing again as they pored over another article in the magazine.

“Danica!” Mom yelled. “Go assist them. Things are getting crazy as it is.”

The twittering and the giggling ceased. Shit.

Did they leave yet? I opened my eyes to peer through the dusty row of Dickens and Dumas again, only to find Rina’s nasty glare hovering close on the other side of the books.

“Well, if it isn’t the geek herself.”

I turned away and quickly wiped my tear-stained cheeks with my sleeve. “What do you want, Rina?”

“You heard your mother,” she said, sounding so sickeningly saccharine as she moved closer to where I stood shaking. “Aren’t you going to help us?”

“Hello, girls,” Mom said as she passed by me again, perhaps to grab another pile of books to shelve while Ana rung up the sales on the register. Mom smiled and then quickly strode past us to go through the back room.

“Ugh!” Clarissa jumped back, pointing a finger at my feet.

I glanced down, and saw it. A trail of paper – toilet paper – wet and unmistakably stuck to the bottom of my Mary Jane flats. I suddenly regretted scrubbing out the diaper relics smeared on the bathroom walls an hour ago. And it was all thanks to little Tucker. Thank goodness his mother already came by and picked him up.

Rina, Clarissa, and Valerie broke out in laughter.

Nat giggled nervously as she looked down at my shoes, avoiding the livid stare I shot her. She just stood there, pretending not to know me, pretending that I was nothing but a waste of space, as though I didn’t rescue her with my emergency pad from a severe period leakage the moment she hit menarche in seventh grade. She just stood there, feigning indifference, like some kind of brainwashed popularity groupie. She just stood there.

I lifted my leg up just as the temptation to kick the zombie droids in their guts and sock them with the broom I held surged through my mind. If there hadn’t been that many kids hanging around the children’s corner looking for a good book to capture their short attention spans, I probably would have gone through with it. Instead, I grabbed the still-damp toilet paper and crumpled it into a tight wad, my sorry excuse of a fist shaking with fury.

Rina shook her head in disapproval, making tsk-tsk sounds with her tongue. “And to think Seth spent his precious lunch time sitting next to a sorry sight like you. If you think for one second that you stand a chance with him, you’re in for a rude awakening, missy. You know what you are? You’re just a pathetic little dork who can’t even clean up after herself. So I’m asking you nicely, Ambrose: back off.”

Un-freaking-believable. The girl had just admitted out loud that she was scheming to cheat on her boyfriend. Chris didn’t deserve this, even if he was naïvely loyal and acted like a complete tool during those annoying pep rallies along with his jock friends.

Was this part of Nat’s plan to finally nab the guy of her dreams? Wait for Rina to dump him and then swoop in like a vulture to pick up the pieces as the heroine of her own contrived fairytale fantasy? Wonder how that’ll turn out.

“I don’t even want the guy,” I snapped, rolling my eyes at Rina. “He’s all yours. It’ll probably be the best thing you’ve ever done for someone other than yourself.” At least now, maybe he’ll leave me alone with Rina’s claws raking all over him.

She shot me a gloating, victorious smile, all fraudulent sweet radiance. “He was never yours to begin with.”

“Whatever, control freak. And you…” I turned to Nat, “You’re ditching me for these zombie queens?”

It was stupid of me to ask, especially since all Nat did was look up apathetically at the ceiling, as though my words didn’t even beat a note on her eardrums.

“Ugh,” Clarissa retorted, “get over it, you psycho.”

“Get over yourselves!” I threw the damp wad of toilet paper at them, watching as it flew.

The damp clump bounced off the queen bee’s cosmetic-caked cheek and landed on the open page of the Allure magazine that Natalia held. Rina gasped as her cronies squealed out of disgust. Nat turned her nose up at me and tossed the wad to the floor, where it finally landed near the heavy old broom that weighed down on my hands.

“Bitch,” Rina hissed venomously at me. “You…,” she hissed a novena of other colorfully enriching expletives before once again saying, “…bitch.”

Surprised and curious faces darted our way – unassuming customers looked up from where they stood browsing in the nearby aisles.

“Grandpa, what’s a bitch?”

I looked behind me to find a little girl who must have been around five years old or something, clutching a picture book about ballet-dancing mice. She tugged at his arm, and again asked, “What’s a bitch?”

The grandfather then snapped to attention – maybe because his hearing aids had finally picked up on the little girl’s inquisitive voice – and steered his granddaughter away from us, shaking his head as he harrumphed to himself under his breath.

I could have stayed behind and challenged the queen bee to another verbal duel, but the truth was my chances of winning were slim. Plus, there were too many people. Too many customers coming and going, and if I cracked under the pressure, I don’t think Mom would ever forgive me for blowing my lid off at Rina and her crew.

It was a hopeless battle. Despite my instincts gnawing at me to fight back, I faltered anyway. What’s the use? I was outnumbered. And Rina had already won. She’d already won when Natalia decided that she would rather be a mean girl wannabe than hang out with a spaz like me. Apparently, I didn’t matter a whit to Nat.

I dropped the broom and ran to the door, dodging browsing customers and nearly tipping over a couple of wooden chairs as I rushed past. Their laughter rang in my ears, even louder and sharper than the bells that shook violently over the shop entrance. My sinuses filled up with a heavy thudding that sent my mind reeling and my heart thumping faster. I couldn’t see, but I didn’t care that the tears were burning out of my eyeballs and cascading down my cheeks along with unwanted mucus streaming through my nostrils. I needed to get out of there – fast – before I did something drastic…

Like accidentally push a heavy bookcase over Natalia for choosing to fight alongside the prissy zombie empress, who I thought was her sworn nemesis.

I had barely made it out the door when I bumped into what felt like a hard stone wall.

“Whoa, easy there,” said a distinctly masculine voice. “Are you all right?”

I tore my blurry gaze away from the floor and looked up – which caused me to choke out a squeaky hiccup right in front of the devastating dream that waltzed into my life not too long ago. Caleb stood like a towering fortress, his arms closing in safely around me just as I crashed into him. A light-hearted smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he asked, “Miss me already?”

Just how much of that did he see?

Ashamed, I tore myself away from the reassuring strength of his arms holding me close to his chest, his cold skin and electric citrus scent awakening my senses. He tried to pull me into his embrace again – probably thinking that I needed someone to hold me up and keep me from falling. But despite my body’s natural impulse to linger there a little longer, I stepped back.

“I-I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry,” I murmured hoarsely as I freed myself from him, taking care not to get my runny snot all over his designer cashmere sweater. With a heavy sob and the momentary desire to just drop dead, I swiped my sleeve across my face.

Huge mistake – the linty cotton of my sweatshirt absorbed the moisture from my eyes just as Caleb’s warm, caramel eyes burrowed into my own. It felt like I was slowly sinking in quicksand – desperate to leave, but trapped by the pull of his gaze.

“Wait,” he said, taking hold of my arms again. “What’s wrong?”

“I-It’s nothing, I just…” I hiccupped another anguished sob, my cheeks burning even hotter with embarrassment. People who stood nearby edged a bit farther away, most likely weirded out by my blubbering. Ana, still busy ringing up the registers for the line of customers some distance away, looked up briefly toward me and winced, her lips pressing into a thin line of discomfort and sympathy. I must have been a sorry sight.

“Why’d you run? Can’t take a little j–”

I jumped at the malicious sound of that voice. But as I turned my head to respond, I didn’t quite expect to see a sudden change in disposition – especially since I just threw a soiled wad of toilet paper at her acne-free face.

Rina’s jaw fell slack, forming a big O, as her eyes bugged out at the sight of Caleb comforting me, the way it usually does when she’s trying to adjust her contacts. But after a moment, she shook it off like it was nothing to be appalled over. Meanwhile her minions continued to undress the situation with their shocked expressions.

“Dev,” Rina said, a surprised pleasantness coating her voice. “Oh my God, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

A cold breath escaped from Caleb as he finally let go of my arms.

“Club Shade? New York City? About a year ago,” Rina said, stepping closer, a playful grin spreading across her glossy pink lips. “Don’t you remember? I was dancing with my cousin Bea and her friends when you came up next to me and offered to buy me a drink.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He shook his head and looked warily at me, his jaw tightening as he saw what must have been a mass of shocked confusion on my face. “You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Come on, Dev,” Rina cooed, turning on her pouting powers. Normally, guys could not resist it whenever she called upon her beguiling skills. “Why are you acting like this? It’s me, Rina.”

“I told you. I’m not him.”

“But you are,” she insisted, her voice getting louder and attracting attention from the customers who stood near to eavesdrop, “I know it’s you. It’s been a long time, but that’s no reason for you to turn away from me, like the way you did the last time we met, especially after that...” She licked her lips and stepped closer toward him again, barely audible as she whispered, “that kiss.”

“That was a mistake.” He took me by the hand and turned to leave through the door he’d just entered. My hand felt limp in his cold grasp.

This was just… too weird. He’d just called Rina Van Anders – it-girl of Edgebrook, the town’s beauty queen contender – a mistake. So Dev was real, and not just some random guy that Rina made just to uphold her rep among the gals and to maintain her hotness factor.

Dev... Devereux? As in, Caleb Devereux?

I could have crashed my head against a brick wall, and the harrowing truth of it would still haunt me in the grave. I should have known. I should have known all along that he was too surreal. Dev must have been some mysterious alias he conjured up and went by when he’s out looking to score some new hot dates. Or it was it simply a fond nickname that Rina chose to call him when they were close?

Well, this was just great. I finally meet a charming guy who doesn’t screw around with people’s heads, and what do I get?

Rina’s leftover boy toy. Already soiled, like the toilet paper that bounced off her cheek.

“And just how the hell,” my former best friend wanted to know, sharply assessing me with her eyes, “did you and Danica meet?”

Natalia’s got some nerve, accusing me of betrayal. She hated it when I kept secrets from her, especially if it had to do with meeting a new guy. Like it was some sort of unwritten, unspoken code of honor among girl friends to squeal to each other about the wonders of a beautiful romance blossoming in the air. But was it my fault that she didn’t return my phone calls and signed up for Rina’s bitch-of-the-month club before I could ever tell her? If it was any consolation to Nat, any chance of me having a romance with Caleb now looks just about rancid.

I drew my hand back from Caleb’s cold grasp and hid it within the safe, warm pockets of my linty sweater. He will not take hold of my hand again – at least, that’s what I promised myself. I could barely trust myself enough to stand back as he tried to reassure me with those soft caramel eyes of his, beseeching some kind of absolution. But I held my ground.

He stood there, looking hurt and confused. Probably internally berating himself for the verbal slip-up.

Meanwhile Rina smiled smugly to herself, her arm resting on her hip like a vengeful goddess basking in the glory of her own destructive handiwork.

I looked away, focusing instead at the stack of shiny fashion magazines in Rina’s hand, amazed at how the obsession to become the alpha chic epitome can completely corrupt a person into abandoning her principles.

“Bullshit.”

The sound of breaths getting sucked in cut a nasty echo in my ears; people were no doubt galled at what had just rolled off my chapped lips.

“What… did you just say?” Nat asked.

“You heard me,” I muttered, still focusing with a full-throttle death stare at the copies of Cosmo and Teen Vogue, as though they were to blame for turning Nat into a zombie queen wannabe. “You’re all full of it.”

“What?” Rina asked, skeptical.

Losers don’t have anything to lose, right? So I plunged ahead anyway, unwilling to let her taunting get the best of me, saying, “There’s more to life than hairspray and hooking up, you know. Are you really that blinded by your own reckless conniving that you’re willing to flick to the side like some kind of bug every person that you think doesn’t matter?”

Rina scoffed, and then rolled her eyes when she said, “You know what your problem is? You’re just jealous. Face it, Ambrose. You don’t have what it takes. And you’re just jealous that your friend Natalia would rather hang out with us than with a complete flake like you.”

I swallowed the nervous pulse in my throat and let out a breath as I took her words in, finally looking up from the magazines held in her hand. My voice came out hoarse as my heart rose in my throat again, but I said it just the same: “Better a flake and a fool than a fake and a phony.”

The next thing I knew, flames burst in between us. Rina and her crew screamed, drawing the attention of every person inside the bookshop. She dropped the burning pile that she was just about to purchase onto the wooden floor. Flames sprang up even stronger than before, dancing and licking anything it touched, a violent red and orange glow.

I stared and stared, hardly believing it as I watched Megan Fox’s face on the cover of Cosmo crackle and melt away into ash.

Soon everyone else started to panic, screaming incoherently as someone bellowed, “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

“What happened?” Mom asked upon emerging from the back room, her voice carrying over the chaos. “Oh my God, Danica! Are you all right? Danica!”

I turned around and ran, too freaked out to look back at the damage.

*********************

I love pictures... and picture books, hehe. But here's how the setting of the scene kind of looks like in my head as I'm writing:

This is how the outside of Ambrosian Inkwell looks like (pretend it doesn't say 'Blackwell' on the sign), just with some flowerpots and an old, antique bench outside the windows.

So above is what Ambrosian Inkwell kind of looks like... except somewhat dimmer and with a bit more shelves. (The picture above is actually the inside of the NYU bookstore, courtesy of Google images.)

And here:

Above is what the children's corner of Ambrosian Inkwell would look like (again, courtesy of Google images), except with some comfy soft rugs on the floor so that the kids can sit on them and read.

And of course... the magazines that caught fire:

I'm on to writing Chapter 18, and then the rest of the novel. Even after about 111 pages, I'm still nowhere near halfway done. It'll probably be about as long as J.K. Rowling's or Stephenie Meyer's books. As long as it takes me to get the full story out. Until then, my friends...

Happy Story-Dreaming! ;)