For the remainder of my week off, I’m aiming to write at least 3k a day. Ideally, that means I’ll have reached 44k by the time I have to go back to class. Fingers crossed that it’s realistic and that I don’t get all burned out again.
I think I’m finally starting to hit my stride in the story. I’m almost at the point where the stuff I’ve been meaning to write this whole time actually frigging happens. Kind of sad it’s taken more than 30k to get there. That’s what I get to writing a novel that’s slightly more contemporary than my usual fare, even if it’s still speculative in nature. Unless werewolves are actually real…
Anyway, the girl hate thing has died off a little bit so it’s closer to the point where the whole thing gets dismantled and everyone becomes best friends. Awwww. Still a little way to go and some characters have some explaining to do before that point. Anyway, here’s Natalie (the core of the girl hate situation) and her two friends Abigail and Savannah being nice… and kind of scaring Selene a little bit. Brianna, Mackenzie and Rebecca are friends of Phoebe, Selene’s fourteen-year-old sister.
“Are you going to nervous vomit again?” Phoebe asked, crammed next to be in the bathroom full of girls touching up their makeup for the performance.
“That was one time. I was twelve.”
“Well,” said Brianna, “if you ever want to get in touch with your inner child again, aim away from us.”
“And try not to do it right before we go on,” added Rebecca. “We’re on a tight schedule, you know.”
“You’re both terrible,” I said.
“They’re always like this,” Mackenzie told me, dragging a hair straightener through her curls.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Phoebe hadn’t bothered straightening her hair, throwing it straight into the messy bun the dancers were all wearing for our number. “You get used to it. Like a vaccine.”
“Oh, it is,” said Mackenzie, giving up on getting her hair perfectly straight and just kinda half-arsing it so at least all her hair was the same kind of barely-controlled. “Worse than any needle.”
Natalie was in the corner of the room with Savannah and Abigail, carefully sculpting her eyeliner. “Remember when we were like that, Sav?”
“You still are,” Savannah replied. Natalie put down her eyeliner and bumped her with her hip.
“Are they possessed?” Rebecca muttered.
“Just go with it,” Phoebe whispered.
“Hey, Selene,” said Abigail.
“Relax. I’m not gonna stab you.”
“This time,” Brianna whispered.
“I was just wondering,” Abigail continued, having either not heard Brianna or chosen to ignore her. “Your boyfriend’s coming to the show, right?”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Funny how you knew exactly who I was talking about.”
“Ah, leave her alone,” Natalie said. “She’ll come to her senses in her own time.”
“I’m kind of missing the days when the three of you hated my guts.”
“Hard to hate a girl when you feel sorry for her,” said Savannah.
“You can’t force a girl out of denial,” Natalie told her, putting the finishing touches on her eyeliner.
“Worked on you, didn’t it?”
I was getting a vibe, but my gaydar wasn’t the best. You’d think I’d be better at it considering I’m a frigging bisexual, but that would assume the world actually made sense. If it did, of course, I wouldn’t turn into a giant monster once a month. You kind of just had to accept the world was a weird, kind of shitty place when those sorts of things happened to you on a regular basis.