Tuesday, August 25, 2009
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this is what i want the cover of my book to look like
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Don't Get too Comfortable
here is the preface to my book.
Sitting in the car on the itchy seats, barely attached to the vehicle. I flip my hair over my shoulders and put my hair in a pony tail, I readjusted my rear view mirror to look at my best friend, Abby Johnson who decided to come on a road trip with us while her parents went, to celebrate their anniversary at a beach house in
“Where are we going?” I ask impatiently since we have been driving for 17 hours and we are currently in
My Mom was whispering something in the phone that I truly didn’t want to hear. She had told me moments earlier, that there was going to be another surprise. I am already sick of presents and surprises, (including this car). I begin to slip into my thoughts about the waves crashing and my surf board gliding across the water that was probably 65 degrees.
“Turn left!” Jeanie screeches as she glances back down at her GPS that is signaling her to follow a road that is poorly marked. I quickly slow my car so that it could avoid the pot holes that could take out my bumper, with one hit (like an obstacle course but deadly). I quickly look back at my friend and her new car that could easily get damaged by the divots. But she swerves around the bumps in one easy flowing motion.
We take lefts and rights and are far from the freeway. We drive next to trees and trees for miles. It was almost 85 degrees and dust is flying around my car so I don’t dare open my window (if it can even open). My mom is looking curiously around trying to see what the arrow on her GPS was pointing at. Out of the corner of my eye I see a horse. Not any average horse but a stallion, I slow the car to a stop. I turn to my mom and whisper, “Look…it’s a” but by the time I turn back, the stallion is gone. I simply slide my foot on the gas and keep driving.
My mom begins a slick smile, (the kind of smile my mom uses whenever she has bad news) she lays her perfectly manicured nails on my shoulder and states, “Welcome to your new home.” She holds her hand on my shoulder as I try to shake it off. She slips it back into her lap. My thoughts wonder. I begin to make up a list of all the reasons why I hate my mom.
1. She didn’t tell me when our why we were moving.
2. She got me a car that she probably found in a junk yard. (not kidding)
3.She got a new job offer and put herself before me again and didn’t even ask me if I was alright with it.
4. I haven’t had my sweet sixteen party, and it looks like I never will.
5. She told me she got a new job, but didn’t tell me we were moving.
I dig my nails deep into the steering wheel until they hurt so much I have to release them. I hold my breathe hoping this is all a dream but it is real, and there is no way I can get back home to
Don't Get Too Comfortable
this is what i want the cover of my book to look like
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