I have been informed by someone *cough*dad*cough* that I don't blog enough. I already knew this. And I've been trying to come up with a solution. So far it hasn't presented itself, and I'm too lazy to try harder.
Here's the dilemma. I can't come up with anything interesting for you guys. When I do, it's few and far between. So far I've been posting snippets of my writing, but you don't seem much entertained by that. Ideas, anybody...? I dunno. This blog is for you. Mainly for me, but also for you. So tell me what you want to read, kay?
In the meantime, here's another much dreaded snippet. (Bethanie, you've already read this one.)
~~~QuickSilver
It’s not my first time in juvie; at least I have that much. I’m not a very adventurous person. And non-adventurous people like me should never have to endure this many first-time-experiences in one day. Juvie is kind of relaxing after it all. I sit cross-legged on a cold concrete floor, clutching an ugly yellow purse in my lap. As much as I hate the color, I can’t seem to let the dumb thing go. It’s amusing, actually, since I’ve only had it for about… I glance at my watch. Two hours.
I sigh and rest my head back against the wall. Has it really only been two hours? My skin is already starting to crawl in this make-up. It might have something to do with this being the lousiest identity theft job I’ve ever done - one of the many firsts today held - but it’s probably all in my head. Surely I wouldn’t be this nervous if I wasn’t worried about Barbra.
That was the first first that happened today. Barbra got kidnapped. First time anyone dared to go after Bobbi Chance or her sister. Today, not only did they dare, but they succeeded. I press the purse tighter against my stomach, trying to suppress the queasiness I feel. Even if I get Barbra back, I’ll never be able to live this down.
Think, Bobbi. Right, think. How did I end up here?
After I got back from the store and discovered that Barbra was gone, I found a letter on the kitchen table. I suppose one could call it a ransom note. But the exchange wasn’t for money; it was a job. I was to delete a file on Agent Jonah Zhang’s laptop by any means necessary. It will be easy, the letter said — It may appear too easy. But if I wanted my sister back, I’d do it. And I did.
Becoming Melissa, Zhang’s daughter, was easy enough — I had the make-up and the clothes, and the props, too, after I raided an unlocked car near Zhang’s phony bank. “That girl’s crazy if she misses you,” I murmur down to the purse. I fiddle with the enormous black buckle on the front. Plastic, my fingers tell me. Not that it’s important to know.
My head lolls back again, forcing me to stare up at the pulsing fluorescent lights. Now that I think about it, the clerk seemed really nervous when he pointed me toward Zhang’s office. I thought at the time that he was just frightened of Melissa. But now I realize he’d probably been tipped off. There’s no way I could have fooled anyone who actually knew Melissa Zhang that I was her.
Zhang wasn’t in his office. That didn’t clue me in, and neither did the laptop conveniently booted up, centered on the maple desk. The embarrassing part is, despite the fact that the only file on the desktop was the one I wanted — ‘Felix Beckett’ — I didn’t see it coming until the file was deleted. That was when my fingers finally clued me in. By the time they started tingling, all I could do was sit back, lean my elbows on the plush armrests, and wait for the cops to storm the office.
And here I sit. For the first time in a while they haven’t tried to scrub the stains off my skin and find out what I really look like. In fact, no one has spoken to me since I got here. I look down at my watch again. 9:23. In another ten minutes, it will be the longest I’ve ever spent in a cell. And I know I’ll beat the record, because with Barbra gone, there’s no one for me to be released to. It looks like I’ll actually be going to court for the first time.
~Charli Rae |Job 39:19-25|
