Finally.

Finally, a story.

And I actually think this one will work.

So, here goes.

You know, it’s not exactly easy to create a great piece of writing at age 13 unless you have some God-given talent. I heard there was once a girl who wrote a bestseller at age 11, and automatically I thought, “Beginner’s luck.” The girl claimed she received the idea in a dream and that she had no idea she could write. She just wrote. Come on, writing can’t be that simple, can it? Or is there something wrong with me?

   This individual titled her book, “Songbird”. My story is definitely not about songs or birds or both mixed together. My story is about my life. Except, it’s not an autobiography. My story is about challenges everyone faces, because trust me, my life is not a whimsical fantasy. This is real life.

     Like I already said, I’m 13 years old. Apparently I haven’t experienced life, for I’ve only been on this earth for thirteen short years. Maybe I’m a little naïve, still learning the flips and tricks to growing up. Maybe I still have two and a half more years before I get my driver’s license. Maybe I attend middle school where the guys are half my size and girls start wearing pounds of makeup. But you do not have permission to tell me I don’t know what life—or love—is. There is such a thing as young but wise.

    I live in Idaho. And yes, it is the home of the potato. But just in case you’re wondering, I do not live in a potato farm. I live in an everyday neighborhood with a fire station, trees, schools, grass, and sidewalks. It’s almost uneventful living in such a normal place. However, my house is not at all ordinary. I have a unique family, as well as a Labrador retriever named Cooper. 

I hope you like it! I really see a future in this!

♥ Abigail ♥

what my mother doesn't know.

So I recently finished reading a book called What My Mother Doesn't Know by Sonya Sones. It stands out from other books, partially because it is laid out in a poetry form and not just a traditional book, but also because it is beautiful. It perfectly describes what a teen girl goes through.

The main character is named Sophie, or Fee, or FiFi, or Sapphire. She is an aspiring artist who lives in Boston. Half of the book is about her first, second, and third loves. She may sound boy crazy, but really, it's discovering the difference between love and lust. 

I am inspired to write like this lady. I want to write a book just like her. Hopefully, one day, I will.

♥ Abigail ♥

{P.S. Apologies for the lack of posting. Time flies. And I haven't really been writing like I used to. Is that a bad thing? Maybe it's because I'm boy crazy and I haven't really been focused on anything else but him. I don't think that's a bad thing. But I will try to post more often. Sorry.}

part 1: the wooden bench.

The Wooden Bench

The sound of our minivan being loaded filled my ears. Naomi cocked her head and then went to investigate the scene.

            “Let’s get this show on the road!” I heard Papa call. He opened the side gate. He found me watching the hummingbirds chirp and suck the pollen out of our tulips. Papa sat down next to me, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, kissed my forehead, and whispered, “How would you like to move where there’s wide open space, not the big city with the sound of transportation everywhere?”

            Papa’s remark perked me up. Space sounded delightful at the moment. I nodded my head awkwardly and followed my father to the minivan. Naomi jumped in. I got in the back seat next to her. I never liked sitting in the front or middle where I could be seen. I liked staying hidden where only Naomi could discover me. She was my only friend. I still talked to Luella sometimes. She was busy with her father, though. I felt as though I didn’t matter to her anymore. Then a feeling jumped up and down in my insides telling me, “Luella loves you and watches over you every second of the day.” I sat back. There was nothing wrong. As long as my best friend was there, I was happy.

            “We packed up your things. You’re set to go.” Ma smiled when Papa started the car. He backed out of the driveway, and soon we were off to great adventures.

            The drive to wherever we were going was scenic and phenomenal. We passed through prairies, wet land, forests, flat grasslands, and steep mountains. It was like there was a whole world out there still to be discovered.

            We stopped in a small town a little while later. In front of us was a little house in the middle of wide open land. Papa got out of the car and pulled the “Sold” sign off the lawn. He threw it in the dumpster, wiped his hands somewhat clean, and strolled back to the car to get our luggage.

            “This is our new home, Shelly,” declared Papa as he ruffled my greasy hair. “Good old Nevada, this place is.” He helped me out of my seat and had me carry my things inside the small, simple cottage.

            When I entered a strong fragrance filled my nostrils. I inhaled it deeply, and soon I couldn’t stop taking whiffs. I already liked this place.

            “Where is my bedroom?” I asked Mama who was sorting out our dinnerware. She stopped working and turned to look at me.

            “Downstairs in the basement,” she replied with a grin. Before I could leave the small kitchen, she stopped me and asked, “How do you like Nevada so far?”

            “This place is okay.” I lifted my shoulders and slumped them down again in a casual shrug. I dragged my things down the rugged steps and set them down in my bedroom. I felt like I was in a pantry. There were canned foods on the shelves, probably left over from the previous owners. The bed was small, but this was fine, because I was only 4’6” and ten years of age. I looked out the puny window and spotted nothing but grass. I went upstairs and exited the cottage into the backyard. There was only green with some weeds now and then, but then I eyed a bench – a brown wooden bench.

            It looked old and chipped. I could tell that it would fit only two people. I brushed off the wood shavings and took a seat. It was a little uncomfortable, just like any other bench, but there was this feel to it that kept me nice and cozy.   

            Naomi approached me with a loud yip and jumped onto the bench next to me. She crawled around my lap and soon curled up in a ball. I kissed her head various times with a warm feeling that I was loved. I stared into the distance, Naomi keeping my legs comfy.

            I stayed in this position for a long time. The windy breeze caused my cheeks to turn a rosy pink. I didn’t care, though. This bench was now my permanent mind wandering spot, just like the picnic table back in New York City.

            My mind wandered toward several random topics. It started with the salt and vinegar I smelled inside, which I guessed was a part of my supper. From that I changed the subject to Naomi who was shivering from the wind. I held her close as we huddled for warmth, although I didn’t feel very chilled. Then I thought about a small museum I’d passed by on the way to our new home. It was the size of a large restaurant, and paintings of dinosaurs were spray painted on the concrete wall near it. I guessed it was a museum where fossils of dinosaurs were displayed.

            My mind wandering went on and on until I heard Ma call my name. Without hesitating, I jumped off the bench with Naomi close behind and sprinted inside. I opened the screen door with a strong push. I sat with my family in the kitchen as we said a short prayer. After that we ate silently. Only the clangs of forks hitting plates and spoons banging bowls were heard.

            “You were out there for hours, Shell,” spoke up Papa. “We were worried you would never come back inside!” He smiled and began to chuckle. He added, “Oh, we’re silly, aren’t we, Anna?”

            Ma laughed as well and replied, “We sure are, Christopher.” Then the kitchen became silent once again.

            After washing the supper dishes I walked downstairs to my pantry bedroom. I flopped down on my bed and got comfortable in my quilt Grandma Alisha had sewed when she was a little girl. She then passed it onto Ma, and when it got too small for her long legs, she passed it down to me. I was just a newborn when Ma would tuck me into the warm quilt every night. It’s stuck with me ever since. It’s still big enough for me, so I’m planning on keeping it for a long time.

            I felt sleepy all of a sudden. The depression was kicking back in after a long day, I guessed. My thoughts wandered to Luella. I felt tears in my hazel eyes. I groaned, trying to hold them back.

            “Why now?” I asked myself. “I’ve just moved into a place where all is well, and now Luella has to butt herself in to force tears.” I was angry at my best friend. I thought she would leave me alone when I didn’t want to feel bad. That’s how it was in preschool. Whenever I was fired up, she’d back away and let me cool off for awhile.

            I started sniffling. My nose started to stuff up. I snatched a tissue and blew my nose as the cold, wet tears fell down my cheeks like an avalanche and dropped dead on my legs. This went on and on until I felt as though there was no reason to sob.

            I threw the last tissue in the waste basket and listened for any unfamiliar sounds. I could tell that this house was old, because mice scurried from time to time and there were dents, marks, and enormous holes in the walls. In case there was a huge tarantula or a garden snake slithering around, I sat with my aware ears turned on. They would have to be extra careful in the night, because that’s when most animals scurry to collect food, and they might find something in my suitcase that they want.

            I decided to go on a bedroom search to look for any miscellaneous crumbs, food, and left over beverages that creatures might long for. These canned foods would be a problem as well, for the rats might try to chew off the lids and eat all they want, and the next morning the shelves would be a mess.

            Snatching a nearby garbage bag and protective gloves, I hurried to my bedroom to clear out the clutter.

            I started out with the canned foods. I wouldn’t throw them away; I would just deliver them to the kitchen and have Ma take the responsibility. I grabbed them one by one and dumped them into the black bag. Once the bag was filled and the shelves were bare, I trotted upstairs for delivery.

            “What’s in there?” asked Ma as I dropped the heavy bag on the countertop. She hurried over and started taking out the food. “What is all this? Where did you find it?”

            “It’s canned food,” I began, “and I found them on my bedroom shelves. It’s like a pantry in there. I didn’t want them to attract creepy crawlers at night, so I brought them up here. Maybe we could use them for a Thanksgiving feast or something.”

            “Maybe so,” Ma agreed. She opened the cupboards and started loading them with the canned foods. Soon they were jam-packed. With a sigh Ma stated, “The people who last owned this house sure are pigs, or they thought they were and bought a year’s supply.”

            “Who knows?” I shrugged. “Well, enjoy your experimenting of soups!” I waved and ran back downstairs. There was plenty of work to be completed.

            Since the canned foods were now out of the picture, I started on something a little more difficult: capturing the critters that were already making home in my bedroom. Being a girl who dislikes spiders and snakes, this would be challenging. I grabbed some Kleenex tissues, a fly swatter, a mask − just in case of some stink bug − and bug spray. I decided to fish for the anti-spider spray, too, for I was positive there were several spiders living in my room. Ma gave me some mouse traps for the mice and rats that lived in the fairly large holes in my room. After they were finished we would cover up all the damage done to the creamy vanilla wall.

            “Need some help there?” I turned to see an unfamiliar-looking boy. He looked about a year older and had some kind of invisible magic to him that made me want to drool. I wasn’t into boys, though, so no matter how hard I tried, all I could do was stare intently at his royal blue eyes. He smiled the most gorgeous smile despite his buck teeth. I felt like fainting in awe when I saw the smile, but I managed to keep my balance.

            “Err, um…sure.” I attempted to smile back but failed miserably as my so-called million dollar smile turned into something creepy-looking. The boy tried to keep his smile, but I could tell the weird face I was showing was making him regret coming to my room, whoever this boy was. Without thinking I blurted, “Who are you?”

            The boy didn’t seem to mind. His smile had completely faded, but his high spirits stayed strong. “I’m Peter Kelly. I’m your family’s neighbor from down the street and decided to stop by and say hi. When your mother told me you were doing some kind of cleaning business down here I thought I might as well join you.”

            What a voice he had. It was clear and bold and had me begging for more Peter talk. I’d never felt this way before, and I thought I never would until my teenage years. I never expected for the butterflies to appear at ten years old. I threw that thought away, though, and nodded with interest, hoping this would get Peter’s mouth to move even more.  

            “So what are you trying to clean down here?” he asked.

            “I want to get these spiders and snakes out of my room,” I replied. “This house is pretty old; it deserves some repairs and teeny changes.”

            “Awesome. When my family and I first moved into our house it was a mess. It could almost be a replica of the town dump.” He burst out laughing all of a sudden. I giggled along. Then he cleared his throat and got serious again. He went on, “It took us almost a year to fix up the major problems and even longer to fix the minor conflicts there were so many of them.” I liked this boy already, no doubt about it.

            With the statement trailing around the room we began our work. I found out he loved to keep animals such as spiders and snakes as pets, so the clever traps I’d created were now out of the picture. I set up mouse traps as Peter dug deep into the holes trying to fish out animals. This boy was brave, bold-voiced, friendly, funny, and pretty handsome for an almost sixth grader. I learned all this in five minutes? This wasn’t a coincidence or a miracle. This was what heaven had sent me.

            When we finished up work for the day and Peter had gone home I went outside to sit on the wooden bench. It was almost my bedtime: 10:00 PM. I decided to spend my last few minutes of the day listening to the calm breeze and being alert for any suspicious sounds.

 I liked my first day in Elko, Nevada. I knew life here was going to be okay.

idea #4: just because: a story about basketball.

I finally wrote again! This story is about a 13-year-old girl who loves basketball with all her heart and hopes to one day become a professional basketball player. This is what I have so far!

Chapter 1

Kendra Thompson froze as she neared the giant building standing tall and wide for all of San Antonio, Texas to see. Taking a deep breath, she got a firmer grip on the basketball in her trembling hands and began strolling towards the concrete steps as casually as she could. As complicated as the task was, no one seemed to notice her long legs shaking with fear, her ponytail about to fall out of its place, or even her teeth chattering loudly. Everyone just walked by either talking on their cell phones or listening to their MP3 players. Kendra wished she had hers right now to escape from the fear inside. Never had she been so nervous until now.

            When security let her in after quite a few minutes of paperwork, the squeaking of shoes and the swishing of baskets was louder than ever. Kendra was fully aware of everyone who stopped and stared when she walked in. No, there was no unordinary look about her, but her immense height caught the kids’ attention wherever she went. She wasn’t surprised when she saw some girls whispering and pointing. She was used to it.

            Since she was 6'2" at age 13, Kendra could easily block any shot. She was the best shooter on her team. She was also one of the best dribblers, even with the fact that she was so tall. Daily she was asked how tall she was. In reply, she’d say, “Taller than you, that’s for sure.” She was always put in the back row when there was a school assembly or a special event. She made her teachers look puny. She outweighed most of the kids, even though she was much below average for a girl her height. Sometimes she was mistaken for an adult, or a soon-to-be college graduate. She was used to correcting people.

            Kendra had had a passion for basketball all her life. Her father who died when she was just eight years old introduced her to the sport. He coached her YMCA teams from when she was five to the year of his death. He had been a famous NBA player himself when he was younger. He had the same dream for his daughter. He died in a terrible car crash on one of the busiest intersections in Texas. He had been out with his teammates; they were drunk, so he was the designated driver for all of them. As they were driving home, he’d lost control of the car because his drunken friend got a hold of the wheel and steered him into the opposite lane where a monster truck collided into them. No one survived the crash.

            Since the accident, Kendra had been devoted to basketball. She made extremely competitive teams at an early age, all because she followed her father’s footsteps and specific instructions. If it weren’t for him she would probably have little knowledge of the game and wouldn’t be out here right now.    

            Kendra began shooting around alone. She had perfect form, and she usually swished most of her shots. Nothing but net, nothing but net, was what she was thinking every time she was about to shoot the ball. It was a pattern of hers, and it seemed to help her.

            About ten minutes later a whistle blew; it echoed throughout the AT&T stadium. This was where the San Antonio Spurs played, where Tim Duncan set and broke many records, where she hoped she could play when she was in the WNBA.

            “HUSTLE, HUSTLE!” a voice boomed. Every girl sprinted over to where the four coaches were standing with their hands on their hips. Each of them had different emotions on their faces. The head coach had a straight face, the first assistant coach an angry-looking face, the second a gruff face who really needed to shave, and the third a friendly smile on his. Kendra already liked him.

            Once everyone was settled, the white-haired head coach began walking back and forth, staring at every girl—one by one—with two beady eyes. He started talking quickly. “Now you all know why you’re here. Must I remind you? It’s because YOU earned this, because YOU are one of the most talented on your teams, and we want to give YOU special training for your future. Whether you are only in elementary school, junior high, high school, or even in college, you are expected to follow every rule precisely and exactly how I say you should. Got it?”

            Now, let me take a few minutes to introduce myself and the other coaches. I’m Coach Walden; I won’t be much of the director; these coaches”—he pointed at the two assistants—“will be instructing you through this whole camp. I’ll just be walking around evaluating your effort, your attitude, and your skill level. Just play your best and pretend I’m not there when it’s time for assessments. Let’s meet our other coaches, shall we?” Then he let the first man with a gruff look on his face to the front. His name was Coach Varner. The third coach was named Coach Mullin. After a long explanation of the basic rules from that coach, the fourth coach trotted happily to the front. He introduced himself as Coach Barnes. He always had a grin on his face; it annoyed Kendra after a while.

            By the time the coaches had taken attendance, all the girls were sorted into groups based on skill level. To be able to figure out who went where, they held a scrimmage, a shoot-off, a dribbling contest, and a rebounding competition. Coach Mullin took the girls who needed to work on shooting, Coach Barnes took the girls who needed to work on dribbling, for he was once a star point guard at UConn, and Coach Varner, who was the tallest of the three, took the ones who needed help with rebounding.

            “This is going to be easy,” Kendra overheard a cocky girl snorting at how simple the requests from the coaches were. She was average-sized. Too tall for guard, too short for post. Kendra decided she would make the perfect wing.

            Everyone agreed with the girl who had made that statement. They followed her around like she was some goddess, except for Kendra.

            “What about you, Bigfoot?” The girl glared at Kendra, who had not said a word since she’d first entered the huge gymnasium. “Oh, wait, no. This’ll be a challenge for you, won’t it?” Everyone sneered. After the girl had said those words, Kendra’s knees tightened. She all of a sudden felt like she was glued to the court. Her teeth clenched, her anger rising by the second. But she was too shy to pick a fight. She instead shrugged and said, “We’ll see.”   

~

The ball felt smooth in Kendra’s hands. It bounced perfectly on the slick court, just how she wanted it to. Every push she made to get it to the ground was like a dream. It went from one dream to another. If she messed up a dribble, it was like a nightmare. The whole play fell apart, and it would take quick thinking to put it back together. Kendra made sure everything ran smoothly. No flaws, no mistakes. It was essential in the game of basketball.

            Crossover, wrap around the back, stutter step, between the legs, back around to her front. Kendra made a plan as she went down the court. In the corner of her eye she spotted Coach Walden scribbling on his clipboard. He whispered into Coach Barnes’ ear and then pointed right at her. She felt pressure all of a sudden, like there was a need to make all the complicated moves look simple. By focusing on this, she lost control of the ball all of a sudden. It bounced across the court towards the baseline. All the girls scrambled to get a hold of it, including Kendra. Again, she glanced over at Coach Walden. He was writing something down on his clipboard with a disapproving look on his face.

            It was a nightmare.

            Kendra’s strength was dribbling; she didn’t want to be on the development team. With all her might she sprinted to the ball which was rolling quickly to out of bounds. None of the girls were able to catch it. Kendra ran right through them and recovered the ball just before it got out. She saved it and chucked it out of the blue at a teammate. She caught it, and the play started all over again.

            Back to a dream.

            For the rest of the scrimmage Kendra didn’t make a mistake, even the smallest tweak. Flawless, that was the only description for her playing ability. Everyone knew it, too; even the snobby girl who had just an hour before teased her knew it.

            After the scrimmage, it was time for the shoot-off. Every competitor dashed for a basket. Most followed the girl, who Kendra later found out was named Nellie. They all grabbed a ball and waited impatiently for the coaches to give them the rules and expectations.

            It took at least five minutes for the coaches to explain the rules. Several girls were even sitting on the ground by the time everything said was finished. Coach Walden blew his whistle, and that caught everyone’s attention. They were all now aware and attentive of the contest.

            “On your marks…” Coach Barnes announced, “…get set…GO!” Everyone quickly got into position and began shooting. Most everyone had proper form, but Nellie’s seemed to be grabbing the coaches with every ball she shot at the basket. She was just as good as Kendra; the ball spun gracefully in the air every time she pushed it perfectly off her fingertips. Kendra couldn’t help but feel jealous as she saw Coach Walden grinning at Nellie. He even pointed her out to the other coaches. Out of the eighty-six girls who were attending this camp, it was her he noticed. She was the girl who was admired by her coaches but despised by her peers. It disgusted Kendra seeing how satisfied Nellie looked every time she released the ball. This turned her on.

            Kendra angrily snatched a ball. She dribbled it a little bit to get the coach’s attention, held it right in front of her shoulder, bent her knees low, focused on the basket, and with all her might, shot it. It looked just like Nellie’s, except better. Kendra let out a sigh of relief as the ball fell into the basket like a magnet. Nothing but net. Beautiful.

            The next few shots were pure luck. Kendra decided to challenge herself by doing a complicated trick, or releasing the ball with her left hand, or shooting from near the half court line. And guess what? She made every one. She could hear the girls behind her whispering, and this time she knew it was about her ability and nothing else. Kendra proudly strolled to the ball rack to grab another ball, but the whistle blew. Everyone hustled back to where the coaches were standing. All four of them stared the girls down. When everyone was looking anxiously back, Coach Varner began.

            “We’re gonna have to postpone the dribbling competition and the rebounding event for tomorrow; we’ve got a lot to say about today’s playing, and we need to get you settled into your rooms at the hotel next door. Here are my remarks. Everybody, listen up.”

            Kendra tuned Coach Varner out. She didn’t think anything would go against her. She had played flawlessly, after all. She played around with her ponytail and stared around the gym, admiring the vastness of it all. It wasn’t until Kendra heard her name that she turned her head towards Coach Varner. He was pointing at her. She smiled. Was she getting an award on the first day?

            “I need you, Miss…” Coach Varner started.

            “Thompson, coach.” Kendra replied.

            “Ah, yes. Miss Thompson, I need you to stay afterwards. I have a few things to say to you.”

            “Ooh…” Kendra heard Nellie snickering. If you examined the average-sized blonde, you would actually think of her as a pretty girl, but once you got right down to it, all you saw was evil. “I think she’s in trouble.” The rest of the girls giggled.

            “Silence!” Coach Varner boomed. His face was red with anger, and you instantly knew that he was an impatient man. When everyone was staring blankly back, he went on. “Now, all of you, follow Coach Walden and he’ll take you to the motel and you can get settled and have dinner. Stay together when we’re on the sidewalk; you never know who might be out there at this time of day.”          

            Although it was only 5:30, Kendra knew what went on in the city life. It could be dangerous out there even in broad daylight. She watched as everyone walked out the door in one big bunch while she stayed behind with Coach Varner. When everyone was gone, the tired-looking man began speaking calmly.

            “Miss Thompson, I’m just going to get right down to it. We don’t have much time. We, the coaches, aren’t looking for a show-off player to recruit in the future. You may have the skills, but we also assess you on attitude, too.”

            “But I was just playing the game, coach.” It wasn’t until after saying those words that Kendra regretted it.

            “Excuse me, Miss Thompson? We don’t talk back to our coaches, either.”

            “Sorry, coach.”

            “I’m going to have to teach you how to play without acting like a know-it-all. It may be the first day, but we watch you from the second you come in to the day you leave. Be aware of that, Miss Thompson. Now I’m not impressed. Try and get me to change my mind about your attitude, will you?”

            “Yes, coach.” Kendra held her head down in shame. She had failed on the first day, and now it would take all of camp to get them to reconsider her.

            “All right. Now, let’s go.” Coach Varner began walking—in Kendra’s point of view, jogging—towards the door. She followed, still ashamed about what had just happened. 

Let me know what you thought in the comment box! I would really love your opinion!

Happy Summer,

♥ Abigail ♥