YA Flash Fiction
Posted: August 4th, 2010, 2:38 am
Hi all,
Here's a short YA piece (891 words) I wrote, since my critique partner currently has my WIP. This is my first attempt at flash fiction. Any comments are appreciated. Thanks!
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I didn't want to sit next to him. Anywhere, anywhere but there.
But I didn't have a choice. There were four empty seats at the round banquet table, and there were four of us. I stood closest to where he already sat. And my girlfriends chattered away among themselves, slipping into the other empty chairs, oblivious to my unspoken plea to swap seats. But I hovered, just in case. Maybe I could still escape.
The ballroom at the Anaheim Hilton buzzed as everyone else filed in. It was midway through the Junior Statesman of America conference, and time for the director to present awards to the best JSA chapters. The Hillview High School group had gotten split up while we squeezed through the double doors of the ballroom. That's how I ended up here, separated from our chapter by a sea of strangers and an endless expanse of drab, purple carpet.
I didn't know the boy in the seat next to me. But I knew enough that I squirmed as I slid into the red-clothed chair. He was really cute, in that too-perfect kind of way. Clear blue eyes with a hint of gray. Short, sandy hair. And a smile that could light up the room even if all the chandeliers had been dimmed. He was a charmer, I could tell. And I didn't know how to talk to beautiful boys like him.
I smoothed my hair into a ponytail, tucking a stray, mousy wisp behind my ear. I felt so dull next to him, just pale skin and freckles and flat brown eyes.
Maybe he'll be stupid, I thought. Then it'll be easy to ignore him.
He stopped talking to his friends and turned to me. He quirked the left corner of his mouth. My stomach went into freefall.
"I'm Will," he said. "From Oakmont High."
I stuck out my hand to meet his. "Brett. From Hillview."
He grinned. "Like Lady Brett."
He knows Hemingway off the top of his head? Seriously? I guess he's not that dumb.
"So is Oakmont up for another award?" I asked. They always had one of the biggest chapters in Southern California, and three out of the five JSA officers this year were from Oakmont.
Will shrugged. "I dunno. I just come to these things for the food." He picked up a fork and pushed a pile of gloppy linguine around his plate, laughing.
I relaxed my shoulders and let myself slide into my chair. I cradled a tumbler of iced tea in my hands. I shivered at the touch of the cold glass, and a fat droplet trickled off the side and into my lap. It left a dark, Rorschach blot on my pink skirt.
"Here." Will leaned over with a cloth napkin. He was so close I could smell the laundry detergent on his shirt. Crisp and clean. I inhaled. Once. Twice. I didn't want to move.
But I had to take the napkin from him, and then he pulled away, back into his chair, out of my space.
I counted to ten, then back to one again. And my pulse finally stopped thrumming through my chest.
I opened my mouth to say something, but a microphone screeched over the loud speakers. The feedback shrieked through our ears. Everyone cringed.
As Will recoiled, his knee grazed mine under the white tablecloth. Warmth shot through me, jolting from where he'd touched me all the way to my core. I think I gasped, though I hadn't meant to.
I glanced over at him. He stared at the empty space in front of his plate. But his fingers trembled, just a little, as he stifled a smile.
Mr. Morris, the director of JSA, towered over the dais in the front of the room. He cleared his throat and beamed at us, his teeth blindingly white against the dark brown of his skin.
"Welcome to the annual JSA Awards Luncheon," he said.
The tablecloth rustled against my leg. Will's knee inched closer to mine again. He acted nonchalant, focusing on Mr. Morris. But Will watched me out of the corner of his eye. I didn't discourage him, and he shifted in his seat, closer to me. He pressed his leg against mine, only his khakis and the tablecloth separating him from my skin. It was electric. And I crept nearer to him, too.
Mr. Morris rambled on, but I didn't care. I wasn't sure what Will wanted from me, or why he seemed interested, but I didn't care about that, either. All that mattered was the square inch of him against me.
But then someone tapped me on the shoulder.
"Hey, babe," Jeremy whispered. He never called me "babe." It sounded so wrong coming out of his mouth. He put a hand on my forearm while he shot Will a sideways glare. "Come on," Jeremy said to me. "We've got extra seats with the rest of Hillview on the other side of the room."
He tugged on my arm, and I careened back to reality. My girlfriends had already gathered their things and started down the aisle toward the Hillview tables at the far end of the ballroom. I looked at Will but he pretended not to see me.
So I slung my book bag over my shoulder and followed my boyfriend back to where I belonged.
Here's a short YA piece (891 words) I wrote, since my critique partner currently has my WIP. This is my first attempt at flash fiction. Any comments are appreciated. Thanks!
-----------------
I didn't want to sit next to him. Anywhere, anywhere but there.
But I didn't have a choice. There were four empty seats at the round banquet table, and there were four of us. I stood closest to where he already sat. And my girlfriends chattered away among themselves, slipping into the other empty chairs, oblivious to my unspoken plea to swap seats. But I hovered, just in case. Maybe I could still escape.
The ballroom at the Anaheim Hilton buzzed as everyone else filed in. It was midway through the Junior Statesman of America conference, and time for the director to present awards to the best JSA chapters. The Hillview High School group had gotten split up while we squeezed through the double doors of the ballroom. That's how I ended up here, separated from our chapter by a sea of strangers and an endless expanse of drab, purple carpet.
I didn't know the boy in the seat next to me. But I knew enough that I squirmed as I slid into the red-clothed chair. He was really cute, in that too-perfect kind of way. Clear blue eyes with a hint of gray. Short, sandy hair. And a smile that could light up the room even if all the chandeliers had been dimmed. He was a charmer, I could tell. And I didn't know how to talk to beautiful boys like him.
I smoothed my hair into a ponytail, tucking a stray, mousy wisp behind my ear. I felt so dull next to him, just pale skin and freckles and flat brown eyes.
Maybe he'll be stupid, I thought. Then it'll be easy to ignore him.
He stopped talking to his friends and turned to me. He quirked the left corner of his mouth. My stomach went into freefall.
"I'm Will," he said. "From Oakmont High."
I stuck out my hand to meet his. "Brett. From Hillview."
He grinned. "Like Lady Brett."
He knows Hemingway off the top of his head? Seriously? I guess he's not that dumb.
"So is Oakmont up for another award?" I asked. They always had one of the biggest chapters in Southern California, and three out of the five JSA officers this year were from Oakmont.
Will shrugged. "I dunno. I just come to these things for the food." He picked up a fork and pushed a pile of gloppy linguine around his plate, laughing.
I relaxed my shoulders and let myself slide into my chair. I cradled a tumbler of iced tea in my hands. I shivered at the touch of the cold glass, and a fat droplet trickled off the side and into my lap. It left a dark, Rorschach blot on my pink skirt.
"Here." Will leaned over with a cloth napkin. He was so close I could smell the laundry detergent on his shirt. Crisp and clean. I inhaled. Once. Twice. I didn't want to move.
But I had to take the napkin from him, and then he pulled away, back into his chair, out of my space.
I counted to ten, then back to one again. And my pulse finally stopped thrumming through my chest.
I opened my mouth to say something, but a microphone screeched over the loud speakers. The feedback shrieked through our ears. Everyone cringed.
As Will recoiled, his knee grazed mine under the white tablecloth. Warmth shot through me, jolting from where he'd touched me all the way to my core. I think I gasped, though I hadn't meant to.
I glanced over at him. He stared at the empty space in front of his plate. But his fingers trembled, just a little, as he stifled a smile.
Mr. Morris, the director of JSA, towered over the dais in the front of the room. He cleared his throat and beamed at us, his teeth blindingly white against the dark brown of his skin.
"Welcome to the annual JSA Awards Luncheon," he said.
The tablecloth rustled against my leg. Will's knee inched closer to mine again. He acted nonchalant, focusing on Mr. Morris. But Will watched me out of the corner of his eye. I didn't discourage him, and he shifted in his seat, closer to me. He pressed his leg against mine, only his khakis and the tablecloth separating him from my skin. It was electric. And I crept nearer to him, too.
Mr. Morris rambled on, but I didn't care. I wasn't sure what Will wanted from me, or why he seemed interested, but I didn't care about that, either. All that mattered was the square inch of him against me.
But then someone tapped me on the shoulder.
"Hey, babe," Jeremy whispered. He never called me "babe." It sounded so wrong coming out of his mouth. He put a hand on my forearm while he shot Will a sideways glare. "Come on," Jeremy said to me. "We've got extra seats with the rest of Hillview on the other side of the room."
He tugged on my arm, and I careened back to reality. My girlfriends had already gathered their things and started down the aisle toward the Hillview tables at the far end of the ballroom. I looked at Will but he pretended not to see me.
So I slung my book bag over my shoulder and followed my boyfriend back to where I belonged.