Does it sound good? It would be for younger readers, 11-15.
I want to know if it’s worth it to keep writing. .
“Are you really nearly thirteen?” laughed Dimitri, a sixteen year old boy that was instructing my dance lessons. I turned away so he couldnt see the tears buring at my eyelids.
He was right, of course. I was nowhere near looking as old as i was. I was twelve, going on thirteen in a couple of weeks. Nobody ever thought of me as attractive. My best feature was my eyes. They were a stunning light blue that always took people’s breath away.
Doing dance lessons were never my idea of fun, but my mother, Karen, insisted that i take them. She had a husband, my dad, named Tim Harrison, known for making on screen movies.
Dimitri continued laughing, and i turned around after i had wiped my eyes and glared at him. “Yes, i’m nearly thirteen,” i said with a crack in my voice.
He looked at me seriously and stopped laughing. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Grayson. ”
I shook my head and began doing the 24 step routine i was working on completing.
“No no no!” He shouted, staring down at me with a smug expression. “You do it like this!” He began demonstrating.
I just stared and looked away. I was looking forward to getting away this weekend, especially because my mother was becoming more naggy by the minute, and i couldnt one more day of it! I was visiting my cousin, Karol, who was my age, just a smidge younger by a petty three months. My cousin lived in a huge, ranch styled home in Mexico. I had to take a plane there, considering we were way far away in Los Angeles, California. My adoptive father was flying down with me. Although my cousin lived in Mexico, she nor i had any Mexican heritage.
The week days flashed by like a sufficient lightning bolt. Soon I was on a beuatiful plane from LA to Mexico. The smiling waiters with the whitest teeth i’ve ever seen served us gourmet food. I didn’t know plane traveling could be so extravagent.
My father leaned over and kissed me lightly on my forehead. “We’ll be there in about 9 hours. . ”
I found myself lightly falling asleep. My head spun and the world seemed as if it was shutting down for a little while. I leaned against Tim, my father, and fell asleep.
The next thing I knew, we arrived in Mexico. We hopped out of the plane, gathering our suitcases.
“We’ll be taking a car down to the home,” my father told me.
I just nodded and walked down the busy airport and finally exiting through big gold shiny doors. I looked around Mexico. Some of my spanish friends from school had told me that Mexico was a dump. Some told me it was amazing. This must of been the beautiful and amazing part of Mexico; It didn’t look anything close to a dump.
“Where are we?” I asked blankly.
He turned to stare at me. “Well, we’re in Mexico, I was sure you knew. . ?”
“No. I meant as in, what city?”
He straightened up. “Oh. ” We’re in aguascalientes, I think. ”
I chuckled nervously. My cousin and I hadn’t seen eachother in years. Probably since we were eight or nine. .
He looked at me and smiled. “I hope you’ll be all right, on the ride. ” I didn’t know what he meant, exactly. Why wouldn’t I be alright?
A large green jeep that looked as if it had been sitting under the sun for twenty years, stood waiting for us. It was rusted, and the color looked so faded, I could hardly even tell what color it was. A man hopped out and smiled. He gave a casual wave and approached us.
I noticed he was very, very tan. He had sweat dripping from the side of his head and he had a bushy brown mustache. He was wearing a large and unflattering cowboy hat. His overalls were stained from old age and years of work. He smiled. His teeth were white.
I waved, and my dad smiled apologetically. “Are we a little late?”
“No, you’re perfectly on time,” he said and chuckled. “I’m Bill White. ”
“Timothy Harrison. ” They extended hands and shook.
“And, this, is my little girl! Her name is Grayson. She’s coming here visiting her cousin,” my dad said proudly. I smiled sheepishly.
“Well,” Bill said and smiled. “How old are you? Nine, ten?”
I frowned. “I’m twelve, very nearly thirteen. ”
“Oh well, my mistake, you look awfully young for ya age. ”
He patted me on the back and laughed. My dad joined in. I just glared.
“Well, lets get this show on da road!” Bill shouted. He ran over to the faded and rusted jeep and hopped in. My dad followed and climbed into the passenger seat. When I got in the back, i noticed there was no seat belt, just a thick rope thing that was probably being used for the seatbelt. I frowned.
“Sorra about that, kiddo,” he said and chuckled. “Dunt have a lot of money dese days. ” He chuckled, my dad too. I frowned again. The seat was hard as wood. I looked down and noticed it was wood, with a small sheet of carpeting over it. There was garbage everywhere. It took me awhile to get used to the rotten smell. My dad looked weird compared to the jeep and to Bill, in
I know its long. .
in his clean crisp suit and slicked back hair. I sighed and looked out the window. Or at least tried. It was covered in smudges and there was a dead fly on the middle of the window.
I gagged. Bill laughed when he saw me in the riveyew mirror, grossing out at everything. I saw some old ciggerates on the seat beside me. I glared at them and turned away.
After a while, we pulled up to a house that looked like a mansion. I’d forgotten that the house was so big. I smiled in envy. Bill had his mouth open in awe. I smiled again and strode toward the house, my dad at my side. I dragged my suitcase to the house and dropped it on the matt at the porch of the house. I rang the doorbell that even looked elegant. The doorbell probably costed more then Bill’s whole wardrobe. I smiled to myself.
A short chunky woman with a friendly face and long auburn hair pulled into a ponytail answered. She smiled warmly.
“Aunt Torisa!” I shouted and crushed her in a bear hug. My dad walked over and shook
her thick hand. “Timothy, Grayson, nice to see you two again. You guys look wonderful. ”
I thanked her and hurried into the house as well as my dad. Bill White was already driving away in the faded jeep.
The house smelled like blueberry pie, and cookies. I chuckled and sniffed the air. Torisa saw me and laughed. “Karol is upstaires, and Phil is in the tennis courts, practicing,” she told me. I knew my uncle Phil was a tennis player. I hugged my dad and climbed up the stairs. I remembered that the house had approximently 52 rooms, 14 bathrooms, a gym, a theatre, tennis courts, a bowling center, a outdoor and indoor swimming pool, and probably about 5 or 6 garages for there many cars. I heard boy band music and headed for the room.
The door in which the music was coming from had pink posters and frilly pink feathers and pink rimmed photos on it. I opened the door, and there stood Karol, listening to the stereo while cleaning up the room at the same time.
“Grayson!” She shrieked and hurled herself at me. This time it was my turn for the bearhug. I laughed and she did too. We hugged and talked for a while. “I’m glad your here,” she said after a while.
“Me too. ”
“Grayson!” She shrieked and hurled herself at me. This time it was my turn for the bearhug. I laughed and she did too. We hugged and talked for a while. “I’m glad your here,” she said after a while.
“Me too. ”
Wow really? Thank you so much. Yes this is definetly my first draft. I wouldnt put this as the final. So thank you guys, i appreciate your help.
Very good.
I think you should continue with it.
It sounds pretty good, you should keep writing. But I might raise Grayson’s age. You seem like you have a talent for this. But don’t give away all your information at the begining other wise the reader will get confused and you’ll have nothing to write about later. But def. keep trying, you can always go back and edit.
You need to work on your basic skills. Even something like, a 16-year-old boy that…” A boy is a person; he’s “who,” not “that.” And “costed?” The word is “cost.”
Also, it’s kind of awkward to write “my mother, Karen.” And “she had a husband, my dad, named Tim Harrison” Unless the parents are divorced, this is an odd way to write it. Why not just say, “My parents are Karen and Tim Harrison. My dad’s a famous screen actor.”
Yes, this sounds picky, but it’s like expecting to play major league baseball and you don’t know how to hold the bat or which base to run to if you hit the ball. You need to get the basic rules down in order to succeed.
I liked it.
There were some spelling errors, but doesn’t everyone?
I like the name Grayson, it’s cute – and not too common(for girls)
I would work on a couple of the words,
and maybe not skipping so much in the beginning.
it goes from dance
to plane
to mexico
to house
all very quickly. I might stop and add some more conversations, or like, when she fell asleep on the plane, have her dream of what her cousin might look like now, or Mexico.. something to take up more time.
Other than that, I think your a nice writer. and good luck with finishing your story.
awesome, but its called a rear- view mirror. there are some grammar mistakes, but i like it anyway! keep going, and please post more!
I love this! If it’s your first draft, then you’re good to go- it really pulled me in! The one thing I noticed that kinda bugged me was in the second paragraph- “Nobody ever thought of me as attractive. My best feature was my eyes. They were a stunning light blue that took people’s breath away.” It’s almost an oxymoron. She’s not attractive, yet her eyes take your breath away. Perhaps you could say that her features are unremarkable, but she has piercing blue eyes or something like that.
Why can’t I b as good a writer as u?!!! u definately hav talent, and please write mor!!!!!! I guess u should add sum mor details so that the story doesn’t just fly by, but it’s still amazing.
Please continue!!!!!!