Okay. So I've been checking out
and I saw a meme thingy. And I was like, PERFECT. I'm writing a book right now. (Technically, "revising" it, but whatever floats your boat. Or sinks it. >:D)
It even includes a NEVER BEFORE SEEN first chapter of my novel. Just 'cause.
...
I am so turning this into a book someday. :O"
3: What genre does your book come under?
Adventure. I think. ._. If you found it in the shelves of National Bookstore, it would probably be found in Series, Adventure, 8-12 section. That's how I categorize my stories. :I
4: Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?
Uh. Uh. Well I'm pretty sure Cody Simpson is PERFECT for Harold (doesn't matter if he's old already, Harold's pretty darn tall anyway) if you just make his hair all flat and slick and nerdy. Alina Foley would be pretty good for Sue. ('Course you have to dye her hair red and all and...)
Madeline Caroll would be good for Ricky, I guess, if she had green eyes. (And if you put in blonde streaks in her hair, and in this guess, they would be dyed in. :D) Eva...Eva's tricky. She's short, she's thin, she's pale, and she has black hair. So far Wikipedia hasn't shown me a perfect Eva ;___; but I have to say Ariel Gade. ('Course we have to starve add prosthetics to make her thin and cut and dye her hair and junk...)
by Pseudonymous Bosch (I will find out his identity someday. SOMEDAY. D:<)...I guess...?
. And
(the books, not the movies -_-). And a teensy bit of
This is the only one I finished. x_x But, uh, I guess what makes it different is that it has a bunch of sub-plots and mini misadventures instead of one long-winded, boring story. Also, it's pretty much my first story in first-person point of view (it's actually the second. the first one needs maaaaajor improvement. :.I), and the first one where my characters are actually the freaks instead of the average ol' Joes.
I was a selfish, insecure, foolish girl whose only desire was to be accepted by the people around me. I was also an obsessed fan of an immortal celebrity who I didn’t even know in person.
There. That’s exactly who I was.
Only I didn’t know that because I was too busy pitying myself. And I had good reason to. Kids who flunked the school year have the right to pity themselves.
I felt so miserable when I sat on the school steps while everyone was happily chatting with their friends, talking about a whole three months of video games, horseback riding, extra allowances, and vacationing in a beach somewhere.
Aaah. While all the kids in school were out there, having the time of their lives, I would be in a stuffy classroom with a strict teacher learning useless facts about the Civil War.
Even as I stood up and sadly started my walk home, all I could think about was how terrible my life was.
I didn’t know why a nice person like me would be cursed to have no EPA—an Extraordinary Physical Ability, but nobody calls it that anymore. An EPA is pretty much what you would call a superpower, only there was nothing super about it because everyone had one.
Everyone but me.
I took my sweet time walking home, even though my house was only five blocks away from Florence Nightingale Middle School. The only thing I wanted at that moment was to be alone.
Mom is gonna kill me for flunking... I thought. I gave myself goosebumps thinking of what punishment Mom would give me. She’d take away my computer. Or my phone privileges. Or she’d delete my Minecraft account.
As I thought of the various ways Mom could kill me, I realized I already arrived at our front lawn. My little sister Sue was in this horrible pink tutu, bouncing around to keep herself amused.
Unfortunately, she instantly spotted me and shrieked like a banshee. “RICKYYYYY!!!!” Sue yelled, running over to give me a big bear hug.
Sue’s bear hugs were as painful as a tackle from a quarterback, so I quickly sidestepped her.
She fell face-first on the sidewalk.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. Although, come to think of it, I was less concerned about her and more proud of myself from avoiding major pain.
My sister sat up, looking like she was about to throw a tantrum. But instead she shook her head, sprang up and started talking a mile a minute.
“So how was everythin’? Fine? Bet you didn’t pass one single thing! How was Harold? Did you see Harold? Did you tell him I drew a picture of him last night? Mom said we’re going swimming today! After we inflate the baby pool! Isn’t this fun, Ricky? I’m gonna help Mom! OKAY, BYE!”
Before I could react, Sue flicked her hand in a sort of wave and skipped away. I bet there was a huge question mark above my head as I stared at my six-year-old sister.
She always called me Ricky, even though my real name was Patricia Angelica Runner. Then again, everyone calls me Ricky, mostly because I’m sort of a tomboy and because I hate my full name.
Shrugging, I decided to go in and have some of Mom’s brownies from last night.
Mom and Dad weren’t in the kitchen, which made me heave a sigh of relief. Good. Maybe I could tell them I failed seventh grade tomorrow.
I opened the fridge, took out a brownie and a glass of milk, and sighed as I went back to the living room to watch TV.
I had only watched a couple minutes of Dr. Who when Jonathan showed up.
“Home already?” he snorted, snatching the TV remote from my hand and turning off the television.
“Actually, I’m not,” I said sarcastically, glaring at my brother, “I’m just a hologram. The real Ricky Runner is in the planet Mars, hula-hooping with a bunch of barrels.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, stupid, I got the hint. I’m just so happy that I could ruin your whole summer vacation starting now.”
Too bad. I won’t be having a vacation this summer, I wanted to snap back at him, but I knew Jonathan. The minute he hears that, he’ll call Mom and Dad and tell them all about it. Which was the last thing I wanted to happen.
So instead I muttered, “Where’s Mom and Dad?”
“Mom’s offered to do Mrs. Johnson’s laundry and Dad’s at the golf course—as usual,” Jonathan said lazily, running his hands through his weirdo hair. He dyed his red hair blue last year, but never bothered to redo it, so his head was a mop of copper and royal blue.
“Eeeh, but nevermind that. Get off the couch, runt. I’m gonna watch,” he ordered, punching me on the shoulder before plopping his lazy butt on the couch.
“Alright, alright,” I groaned, standing up.
Well, there goes my free time. Now Jonathan would watch Heavy Metal TV and burn my eardrums again. Ugh. I decided to go up to my room and use the computer instead.
“Oh, by the way,” my brother called out, “I petrified your bed. Hope you like sleeping on stone tonight, Ricky.”
“You WHAT?!”
I ran up into my bedroom and flung open the door. My bed now looked like a stone sculpture of messily-made bed. Great. First I failed, and now I wasn’t going to get any sleep.
Unlike me, both my siblings had EPAs. Jonathan, as you could tell, can turn anything he touches into stone. I looked through my window; Sue was gleefully throwing waterballs the size of apples at her dolls. Obviously, Sue, on the other hand, could create and manipulate water.
I huffed. Both of them were experts at their EPA. Sue was already a master at the age of six. Jonathan had a scholarship at the university, even if he’s only fifteen.
What did I ever accomplish? Nothing. I was a loser, a nobody.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Everyone in the family were blue-eyed redheads. So why, I asked myself countless times, was I cursed to have chestnut colored hair streaked with white blonde—I SWEAR I was born with this hair—and sea green eyes?
Well, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all last night
My day is ruined, I thought, First my summer is gone, then I get jacked up by my own siblings, and now I have to get worried about my appearance.
“Days like these,” I sighed to myself, “Days like these are when thinking about you makes me really happy.”
I glanced at the poster of a handsome, dark-haired man in a lab coat stared back at me, grinning. He was the cutest, kindest, most perfect guy ever. Dr. Richard Renalds.
He’s famous all around the world and everyone knows him. Well, I guess I can’t blame them; Dr. Renalds is the most powerful man on the planet, no joke. His EPA is formally called the power of imagination; I call it “whatever his mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve—literally.”
Even if he is practically immortal, he spent his whole life helping people who have defective EPAs. That’s why I love him so much. He’s rich, he’s powerful, he’s handsome, he’s starred in twenty-seven award-winning movies—and he loves others. Everyone says nobody’s perfect, but Dr. Renalds surely was. Which is precisely why I spent all my free time fangirling over him.
I could feel myself smiling. Someday, I thought with hope, someday I’ll meet you. Someday you’ll help me with my EPA, and everything will become wonderful again.
But then I remembered all over again: I’ve had no EPA for thirteen years. I was hopeless, as far as I’m concerned. Even if he did have the power to help me, who would want to help your average nobody?
...well, that day wouldn’t be today.
I didn’t want to stick around the house anymore, for fear that Mom would come back home and ask me how my grades are. I grabbed my things and headed to my favorite place in the whole world, a deli named Fitzgerald’s.
And then that’s when everything started...
I have this terrible habit of overexplaining things in the first chapter.
;____; So there. Chapter Numero Uno of HERS. Peace out! :D
