Chatterbox: Inkwell

NaNoWriMo 2017!

Alright, alright. I know that way too many of these threads are going up lately, but I couldn't resist. Please feel free to critique it. The novel is called Shards of Miracles, and don't worry, it gets better after the first three-or-thereabouts chapters. So, here we go!

Chapter One: Bransworth

Emilia Caroline Bransworth was dying.

Not the kind of slow, dramatic death you see in books, nor the fast, painful death that you see in movies, but slowly, truly dying. Pining away of leukemia, and she knew it. 

She had tried to tell her uncle, tried to tell her teacher, tried even to tell a few of her peers at school, but nobody-not a single person!- had taken her seriously.

And now it was too late.

Emilia laid back on her pillow, staring up at the ceiling, which was covered in a mural of tiny stars. Her mother had painted that mural. Her amazing mother, who would no doubt have listened to her only daughter when she, on her last time at the doctor's office, got a prescription with the words "emergency medical procedures necessary" written on it in large, red letters. 

_______________________________________________

On her first day of sixth grade, Emilia had worn a shirt the same shade of red as those letters. Her mother had helped her pick it out, saying that she should stand out from the crowd, because it would be a "red letter day".

It wasn't a "red- letter day".

Unless "red- letter day" means, "the most terrible experience of one's entire life".

She had cried, on her mother's shoulder, as soon as she got home. And she had been comforted. 

Her mother had said, "Emi, you're your own person. Never let what others say get you down- you'll start believing that all the lies about you are true. You, Emilia, are a miracle, and you know that. And I know that. And your father knew that." Mrs. Bransworth sniffled, once, and her voice became softer and more choked up. "If those idiots at school don't know that, that shouldn't bother you. They don't know you like I know you."

And then, Emilia's mother was gone.

                          __________________________________________________________

Emilia turned over on her bed, wanting to hide the tears that came so naturally to this one memory. Her mother had died that day, in a car crash on the way home from going to the theater to see what had then been their favorite movie. Strangely enough, Emilia had never wanted anything to do with THE CATPOCALYPSE! ever since that day. 

____________________________________________________

Emilia's first day of school might have been made so horrific because of Amara Rostill. When Emilia walked up the front steps of M.S. 1338 for the first time, Amara came right up(after first whispering some apparently funny secret to her small band of the "popular girls")and asked to be friends. Of course, she wanted a friend. And of course, Emi accepted(because who wouldn't have, put in that position on the first day of school?). And then, of course, Amara turned on her and made it a personal goal to get rid of her, or at least make her life completely miserable. And, of course, she succeeded, because what sixth-grade girl isn't going to listen to the most "popular" girl in school, over a new kid, whom no one is really close to? And so, of course, she had had no friends for that day. Or the next, or the next, or up until January, when she had had to start staying home.

________________________________________________

The back screen door of the Bransworth/Myrcen household slammed shut. Into Emilia's room strode her uncle, Desmond Myrcen.

"Get up. I need you to go to the bakery."

"No. Can't you see I'm sick?"

"Get. Up. NOW."

Emilia begrudgingly got up, at this remark, and walked out the door. The bakery was two blocks away, and already she was drawn to the delicious scent of baking bread. When she arrived, however, instinct told her not to go in.

But of course, she did anyway.

As soon as she got inside, Emilia realized that she should have trusted her instinct after all. For who was sitting at the front counter but Amara Rostill and her group of minions. Emilia edged along the back wall, praying that they wouldn't notice her. Ten more feet to the counter. Five more. Three. Two-

Amara glanced in Emilia's direction, then did a double take and looked again.

"What are you doing here?" asked Amara, as if she were staring at a heap of last year's slimy garbage.

"Just the same thing you are," answered Emilia indifferently, staring the other right in the eye.

Amara wrinkled her nose. "I don't believe that you're really as sick as everyone says you are, Emilia Bransworth."

Emilia was coming very close to losing her temper now. "You wouldn't know anyway, Amara Rostill," she answered with a toss of her head, imitating Amara's snobbish voice.

That was sure to quiet Amara, and it worked. As Emilia bought her two loaves of bread, Amara only glared at the back of her head and was silent. When Emilia left the bakery, Amara stared balefully at the door for five long minutes after she had gone.

Out on the street, Emilia was amazed at how she had managed to keep her temper. Under ordinary circumstances, that would have involved a lot of screaming at Amara. But this was no time to ponder.

She hurried home before anyone could see that she was outside.

~

I know it's horrible quality plus depressing, but as I said, it gets better. Thank you for dealing with me!