Post by PetitePirate on Sept 7, 2004 18:14:11 GMT -5
this is my story...i've already posted it on mania, but i thought i'd do it here too...PLEASE read it and give me criticisim!! (compliments are good too 
)
this is gonna be uber-long, this is just the first chapter:
I’m in the kitchen setting the table at the time. I’m laying out the placemats all nice and tidy, even though Cassie thinks placemats are stupid, and I have to agree with her. But Mom’s eating with us tonight, so I’m trying to make the table look decent, so that maybe she’ll have some more confidence in Cassie and how she’s raising us.
“Does the fork come before the knife?” I ask her. We don’t usually use flatware. We’re finger people. “Is it even on the same side of the plate as the knife?”<br> Cassie ignores me. “Did Shane bring the mail in?”
I turn my head around to glance over at the counter. “Yeah, he did.”<br> “Anything interesting?”<br> I limp a few steps over and finger through it. “Something from school.” Addressed to the parents of Shane Kreek, but I don’t tell Cassie that part yet. Last time we got a letter home about Shane, it was about how the principal had caught him and Shelby Baker in, and I quote this, “questionable and inexcusable poses.” You can imagine how this delighted Cassie.
That was sarcasm, in case you didn’t catch it.
“School, yeah, Jace, that reminds me.” Cassie claims that she was the first person to ever call me Jace, but I’m guessing it was probably Mom, as people have called me that since Cassie was about 4. “I’ve got to give some speech at school…you know, ‘cause I’m secretary?”<br> I pulled some tea cups out of the cabinet. All of us have some strange thing about tea. Mom said one time when I was little and sick it was the only thing would get my lungs to stop twitching. I’ve tried it since, when I’ve had a spell, and it doesn’t work. Maybe Mom was drinking too much. “That’s too bad,” I say sympathetically.
Cassie used to be a cheerleader. Up until last year, her junior year, when her coach told her she was too ugly to make the team in college. Cassie is my sister and I love her to death, and Shane and I always tell her she’s pretty, but we don’t mean it, and she knows we don’t mean it.
But then, this year, Mom suggested that Cassie run for secretary. Mom hasn’t been much of a mother to us since Dad left, about 9 years ago. Dad was some big successful something or other, and after he left Mom started working three jobs so we could keep paying the landlord. So Mom’s home about 4 scattered hours a day, most of which she spends sleeping. So ever since then, Cassie’s been doing all she can to mother me and Shane.
But anyway, Mom suggested it, and Cassie, who’s always eager to prove to Mom that she can raise us and be normal, rose to the occasion, whatever that means.. Cassie works so hard trying to please Mom, and it’s kind of sick, since Cassie’s a much better mother than Mom ever was. Not that I think of Cassie as my mother. That would be weird. Anyway, Cassie won the election, and now she’s stuck with secretarial duties every once and while.
Cassie stirs the soup she’s making with her ladle. “It’s about how athletics are so important for a complete education, or something.”<br> “Ouch,” I say as I pull some soup bowls out of the cupboard. Shane, my twin brother, is five foot ten, blond, blue eyed, athletic, and still thirteen, because I, unlike him, was born three months premature. Consequently, he’s the athletic one. Cassie never really got into it apart from cheerleading, and my twitchy lungs and my limp keep me from doing anything mildly athletic.
It’s a pretty bad limp, I’ll admit. I shattered my whole right foot and ankle when I was little, and it never really healed, right, so now I limp so badly I practically have to drag it. But whatever. Truth is, I don’t think I’d play sports even if I could. I’m too busy doing nothing. It’s pretty time consuming, actually.
“Yeah, it should be just horrible,” Cassie replies, adding some more salt to the soup. “And that’s not even the worse part.”<br> I put down the bowls I’m holding. “What?”<br> “You have to come with me.”<br> I moan loudly to punish her unfairness with obvious anguish. “Cassie, no! Why?”<br> “I’m sorry, Jace, I really am.” She sighs and pushes her colorless brownish hair out of her eyes. “But you’ve got nowhere else to go. Mom’s working and Shane’s got a football game.”<br> “Then let me stay home alone! Come on, Cassie, I’m fourteen.”<br> “You’re barely fourteen, and I don’t care how old you are, I’m not leaving you home alone.”<br> “That is so stupid.”<br> “Is not.” Cassie is seventeen, but she will still resort to “is not’s” when we argue.
“It is so. You let Shane stay home, for God’s sake, he’s younger than me!”<br> “What if you had a spell?”<br> Cassie springs this on me suddenly. I feel my cheeks burning red. I look up at her; Cassie is small, five foot four, but that’s still several good inches taller than me. “I’m not going to have a spell.”<br> “But what if you did?”<br> “But I’m not going to!”<br> “But what if you did!” Cassie takes a deep breath and stares into the soup. “What if you had a spell and you needed help and you couldn’t get it?”<br> I have nothing to say to this. I grab some tea bags from the top shelf and put some water on the stove, glaring at Cassie. She doesn’t seem to notice. I don’t like it when we fight. It doesn’t happen very often. She and Shane are usually the ones who go at it.
A spell, in case you were wondering, is when my lungs get twitchy and stop working the way they’re supposed to. They inhale and exhale at all the wrong times. It’s a birth defect or something, from being born so early, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t ask. They don’t happen too often, only about twice a month or so, and they’re pretty short. They usually last from about an hour to a few days. My longest ever was 5 days.
“I really am sorry, Jace,” Cassie says quietly.
I look up at her. Cassie knows me too well; it’s impossible to stay mad at her. “‘S okay. It might not be too horrible,” I say, even though we both know it will be.
)this is gonna be uber-long, this is just the first chapter:
I’m in the kitchen setting the table at the time. I’m laying out the placemats all nice and tidy, even though Cassie thinks placemats are stupid, and I have to agree with her. But Mom’s eating with us tonight, so I’m trying to make the table look decent, so that maybe she’ll have some more confidence in Cassie and how she’s raising us.
“Does the fork come before the knife?” I ask her. We don’t usually use flatware. We’re finger people. “Is it even on the same side of the plate as the knife?”<br> Cassie ignores me. “Did Shane bring the mail in?”
I turn my head around to glance over at the counter. “Yeah, he did.”<br> “Anything interesting?”<br> I limp a few steps over and finger through it. “Something from school.” Addressed to the parents of Shane Kreek, but I don’t tell Cassie that part yet. Last time we got a letter home about Shane, it was about how the principal had caught him and Shelby Baker in, and I quote this, “questionable and inexcusable poses.” You can imagine how this delighted Cassie.
That was sarcasm, in case you didn’t catch it.
“School, yeah, Jace, that reminds me.” Cassie claims that she was the first person to ever call me Jace, but I’m guessing it was probably Mom, as people have called me that since Cassie was about 4. “I’ve got to give some speech at school…you know, ‘cause I’m secretary?”<br> I pulled some tea cups out of the cabinet. All of us have some strange thing about tea. Mom said one time when I was little and sick it was the only thing would get my lungs to stop twitching. I’ve tried it since, when I’ve had a spell, and it doesn’t work. Maybe Mom was drinking too much. “That’s too bad,” I say sympathetically.
Cassie used to be a cheerleader. Up until last year, her junior year, when her coach told her she was too ugly to make the team in college. Cassie is my sister and I love her to death, and Shane and I always tell her she’s pretty, but we don’t mean it, and she knows we don’t mean it.
But then, this year, Mom suggested that Cassie run for secretary. Mom hasn’t been much of a mother to us since Dad left, about 9 years ago. Dad was some big successful something or other, and after he left Mom started working three jobs so we could keep paying the landlord. So Mom’s home about 4 scattered hours a day, most of which she spends sleeping. So ever since then, Cassie’s been doing all she can to mother me and Shane.
But anyway, Mom suggested it, and Cassie, who’s always eager to prove to Mom that she can raise us and be normal, rose to the occasion, whatever that means.. Cassie works so hard trying to please Mom, and it’s kind of sick, since Cassie’s a much better mother than Mom ever was. Not that I think of Cassie as my mother. That would be weird. Anyway, Cassie won the election, and now she’s stuck with secretarial duties every once and while.
Cassie stirs the soup she’s making with her ladle. “It’s about how athletics are so important for a complete education, or something.”<br> “Ouch,” I say as I pull some soup bowls out of the cupboard. Shane, my twin brother, is five foot ten, blond, blue eyed, athletic, and still thirteen, because I, unlike him, was born three months premature. Consequently, he’s the athletic one. Cassie never really got into it apart from cheerleading, and my twitchy lungs and my limp keep me from doing anything mildly athletic.
It’s a pretty bad limp, I’ll admit. I shattered my whole right foot and ankle when I was little, and it never really healed, right, so now I limp so badly I practically have to drag it. But whatever. Truth is, I don’t think I’d play sports even if I could. I’m too busy doing nothing. It’s pretty time consuming, actually.
“Yeah, it should be just horrible,” Cassie replies, adding some more salt to the soup. “And that’s not even the worse part.”<br> I put down the bowls I’m holding. “What?”<br> “You have to come with me.”<br> I moan loudly to punish her unfairness with obvious anguish. “Cassie, no! Why?”<br> “I’m sorry, Jace, I really am.” She sighs and pushes her colorless brownish hair out of her eyes. “But you’ve got nowhere else to go. Mom’s working and Shane’s got a football game.”<br> “Then let me stay home alone! Come on, Cassie, I’m fourteen.”<br> “You’re barely fourteen, and I don’t care how old you are, I’m not leaving you home alone.”<br> “That is so stupid.”<br> “Is not.” Cassie is seventeen, but she will still resort to “is not’s” when we argue.
“It is so. You let Shane stay home, for God’s sake, he’s younger than me!”<br> “What if you had a spell?”<br> Cassie springs this on me suddenly. I feel my cheeks burning red. I look up at her; Cassie is small, five foot four, but that’s still several good inches taller than me. “I’m not going to have a spell.”<br> “But what if you did?”<br> “But I’m not going to!”<br> “But what if you did!” Cassie takes a deep breath and stares into the soup. “What if you had a spell and you needed help and you couldn’t get it?”<br> I have nothing to say to this. I grab some tea bags from the top shelf and put some water on the stove, glaring at Cassie. She doesn’t seem to notice. I don’t like it when we fight. It doesn’t happen very often. She and Shane are usually the ones who go at it.
A spell, in case you were wondering, is when my lungs get twitchy and stop working the way they’re supposed to. They inhale and exhale at all the wrong times. It’s a birth defect or something, from being born so early, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t ask. They don’t happen too often, only about twice a month or so, and they’re pretty short. They usually last from about an hour to a few days. My longest ever was 5 days.
“I really am sorry, Jace,” Cassie says quietly.
I look up at her. Cassie knows me too well; it’s impossible to stay mad at her. “‘S okay. It might not be too horrible,” I say, even though we both know it will be.
