Maybe Someday - Page 6

    Hey there. :)
Here's page 6 of MS!!

      It's been a couple weeks since the incident with Ben. Since then, there had been an enormous change in my life. Ben finally stopped picking on me! I think Scarlet scared him off. Me and her kind of bonded over over punishment of cleaning the cafeteria before and after meals for a week. It was gross, but it wasn't so bad with Scarlet there. She's great.
     We were sitting under a tree in the play yard now, isolated from the screaming kids and flying toys. I was reading The Giver now, and Scarlet was sketching. She is an amazing artist, even though she won't admit it.
      I glanced over the to look at her drawing. It was of a girl sitting in the branches of a large tree. Scarlet notices me and lifts the paper up, "Do you like it?" She asked me. "Yeah!" I reply. "It's you." She told me. Then, she takes out an orange matte pencil, and colors my hair bright orange. "That's more like it." She says. I smile.
     The outdoor attendant blows a sharp whistle, startling me. Scarlet smoothly lifts her head and stands. "Come in!" The attendant bellows. We head in, along with a flurry of kids and teenagers. Inside, we head over to the art table, where Scarlet settles down to continue her picture of me. "Why don't you draw something," She says, "You always have your face in a book." I giggle and sit down in one of the crayon-mark-covered wooden chairs. "Fine" I say with a playful roll of my eyes. Scarlet smirks.
     I lightly scratch in an oval with two circles for eyes, and a triangle-shape for a nose. Then I fill in the eyes with an orange ring and a dark pupil. Scarlet laughs, she knew I was drawing her when she saw the color of her eyes. She jokes, "Beautiful."
    "I told you I can't draw!" I exclaim, laughing with Scarlet. "You weren't lying!" She teases. I elbow her lightly, and shake my head.
     A thin blonde-girl who looks a little older than me strides toward Scarlet from behind. I stop my giggling and nod towards her, raising my eyebrows to Scarlet. The girl stops between Scarlet and I and leans in, one hand on her hip and one on the table. "Hey carrot-eyes," She sneers, I can feel the anger radiating from Scarlet, but she keeps calm. "I see you're hanging out with flame-head there. Seems fitting." At her put-down of me, Scarlet jumps up, but I follow her and sharply whisper in her ear, "She's not worth it!" Scarlet's pale hands un-clasp, but her eyes are flaring in irritation. The girl giggled stupidly, "Thanks for calling your wolf off, red-head, you should get it a leash." With that, the girl left, a smug grin spread across her face. "Knock it off, Brenda." Scarlet called after her. Brenda made a pretend pouty-face and pivoted, "Shoo Doggy." Then she headed on her way.


Did you like it? Please leave your opinion of page 6 in the comments!

Maybe Someday Page 5

    Ginger looked scared next to me, her eyes wide and scared. I ran a hand through my loose curls, easily camouflaging my uneasiness. Ginger's foot caught a loose stone on the path and I caught her arm in a vice-like grip. I had been to Headmaster Befknock's office several times but I am worried about Ginger though; I've watched her from the side before and she's not a trouble-maker. Her bottom lip has a very slight tremble, and I notice her hands are shaking.
    "You okay?" I asked her gently, lightly touching her shoulder with my black-painted-fingernails.
     Her head whipped around at my fingers, and she nodded, and then shook her head. "B-ben always rips on me  . . ."
    "Hey, you like to be on your own, and I get that but you need someone to protect you. That's not a bad thing," I added as her eyes flared angrily, "it just means that it isn't one of your strengths. And I want a friend. You saw the way they look at me." I blinked. "So why don't you run with me?"
    "B-because I have forgotten what having other people care for me feels like." Ginger turned her head away.
    Mr. Befkock's office- I call it a lair- nears, its drab front dreary and worn. Ms. Bailey raps on the door, her face downcast.
    "Come in!" a voice boomed.
    Ms. Bailey opened the door, it's rusty hinges giving a loud creeeaaak. My eyes know every inch of the office. In the far corner he keeps his hidden stash of Playboys. In the other corner is a plant that has been dead for years. In the center of the room is a large, grand oak desk, with a thick layer of dust laying over its once beautiful surface. Two wooden, stiff chairs sit in front of the desk. Behind the desk sits Mr. Befknock himself.
    He has always reminded me of a knarled, old tree. His face is creased with a million wrinkles, baggy over his eyes, which are a cold, glittering black. His mouth is a thin line, and he has dark grey, thin hair. His eyes seem to be set in a permanent glare, and he fixes me in an icy, bone freezing stare.
    Ginger seems paralyzed, swaying slightly on the spot. Ms. Bailey leaves quickly, bustling out. She hates him as much we do.
    "Sit." He waves a bony hand at the two seats.
    I'm not sure that Ginger heard so I gently touch her arm and she jolts out of her trance. I sit in the stiff-backed chair, and Ginger takes the other one.
    "Names." Mr. Befknock growls.
    "Scarlet." I answer, holding his gaze. He breaks eye contact first and I smirk. Ginger is looking at me with something like awe as she answers, "Ginger."
    "Oh yes." He hisses. "Scarlet. I knew you wouldn't last long out there, always beating people up."
    I casually flick a piece of hair away from my face. "I don't have to talk to you."
    He suddenly leans across the desk and seizes my chin, his stinking breath puffing in my face.
    "Leave her alone." Ginger mutters.
    "Excuse me?" the Headmaster fixes her with a stare that would freeze gasoline.
    "I said leave her alone! She stood up for me. Why isn't Ben in here? He called me names, and told me that it was my parent's fault that I was in this forsaken place. He should be here, not Scarlet!"
    Mr. Befknock stared at her hard and then barked, "Get out. You aren't needed here." Ginger hovers for a minute, looking at me uncertainly. "OUT!" he snarls.
    Ginger bolts. The door slams behind her, and I am left alone with him.
    He ignores me, and my mind begins to wander. Maybe someday I'll get out of here. Maybe someday Ginger and I will get adopted together. Maybe someday . . . . 

Maybe Someday - Page 4

I know I'm writing these pages way too fast but it's so much fun to write and... eeeeh! I love writing Maybe Someday!

     I'm still on the ground. My hands are scraped from falling on them, and they're splintered from the ancient wooden steps. I keep on screaming, crying, sobbing, weeping. It seems like I've had my happiness sucked out of my body and years of distress are pouring from within me.
     Then, behind me, I hear a shout. I look up from the ground, tears now silently falling as my yowls of despair turn to whimpers. In the school's doorway, students are crowded. I assume they were watching me, but now something different has found their attention. Everyone gasps, and people quickly shuffle out of the way. As the mass of people clears, I hear another shout.
     And then I see Ben, on the ground. A pale girl with black hair hovers above him. "This is what you get for bullying! You're no better than she is, heck, you're filth compared to her. Get up and never do something like that again. If you do, I won't be so nice next time." I'm dumbfounded. Ben is clutching his stomach and stumbling to his feet. The girl turns and walks to me, kids rush to get out of her path. She helps me up and I stutter, "Th-thanks."
     "No problem." She says, "You shouldn't let Ben push you around like that. I've seen it before, and this time, he went too far." She brushes her bangs out of her face, and I see her eyes for the first time. They're a brilliant amber, I might even call them orange. "I'm Scarlet by the way." She tells me.
     Ms.Bailey comes up, she looks obviously shaken. "Ben, go to the nurse." She says. "Scarlet, Ginger, you're coming with me." She herds us off, I know where we're going.
    We're going to Mr.Befknock, the head of Pinewood orphanage. You do not want to meet him. Kids only see Mr.Befknock if they've done something serious. Being involved in a fight directly in front of your teacher is definitely considered serious. I'm terrified, but Scarlet, she looks like she doesn't regret a thing.

Sorry for the short page but I wanted to stop there for now. The idea of Scarlet came from my cousin Olivia. (Click HERE to see her DeviantArt) Pretty interesting character, huh?

Maybe Someday - Page 3

This has been so much fun to write so far! Thank you all so much for your suggestions and encouragement! It means a lot to me. Here's page 3!

     I leave the cafeteria, having eaten only a banana. I didn't touch the oatmeal, nor did I drink my milk, even though we are always encouraged to do so. I usually don't eat much, but today in particular, I had no appetite.
     Striding through the halls, I stop by our dorm to pick up my school supplies. They consist of a battered notebook, a few pencils, one pen, and an over-used, blackened eraser. Carrying my things in one arm, I gazed out the window. Our dorm is on the fourth floor, so we're pretty high up. The yard is empty, as everyone is still eating breakfast.
     Ready to go, I head down the long flights of stairs, outside, and to the small school building. It should only fit a class of 15 at the most, but we squish 30 in. Even then, everyone only gets an hour long lesson a day. With 300 kids aged 13-17, and only one teacher, it's the only way for us to learn.
     I hope we have an english lesson today. I think. I despise our hour long math sessions, but I really enjoy English class, much to the disagreement of my peers.
     "Good morning Ms.Bailey." I smile to my teacher, and she smiled back, her blue eyes sparkling. "Hello Ginger." I love Ms.Bailey, she's a kind teacher and we both share a love to read. She talks to me for a minute about The Hobbit, which I had read recently. "Yes, ma'am, I've finished it," I tell her, "And now I'm reading Charlotte's Web." Ms.Bailey grins, "Ah yes, you'll love it. A wonderful classic."
      Now the rest of the class begins to shuffle in. When a dark-haired boy named Ben arrives, I groan under my breath. "Heh Heh," He sneers when he sees me chatting with Ms.Bailey, "Teacher's pet!" Unfortunately, My teacher has her head turned to scold two girls for carving their names into the desks. "Leave me alone!" I spat at Ben, glaring with irritation. "As you wish." He grins stupidly and drops himself into the desk beside mine.
     I'm thrilled to learn that today we will be practicing descriptive writing. Several kids mumble and groan with dismay, but I sit straight up and smile.
     We play a game we often use in english. You write a few sentences describing someone in the room, and everyone has to guess who you're describing. I choose Victoria, from my dorm, who happens to be in the same class as me. I glance up at her and back down at my paper every once and a while, and she notices, she blushes and smiles sheepishly at me. I wink.
     When it is time to share our sentences, I stand. "The girl has long, dark hair, that cascades down her back like a waterfall." My teacher brightens at my use of a simile. "Freckles are sprinkled on her nose, and her mouth curves outwards in a slight smile." I continue, "She wears a snow-white blouse, and a jungle green skirt that makes her ocean blue eyes stand out like an orchid in a field of weeds."
The whole pauses for a moment, but then says all together, "Victoria!"
     "Wow." Vicky murmurs. I know why she is so shocked by my words. I made her sound beautiful. Not that she isn't, but truthfully, her "jungle green skirt" is old and losing color, and the "snow white blouse" is just a t-shirt.
     That's the magic of words. You can use them to change things, and make them appear differently. Maybe someday, I'll be an author. A fantasy blossoms in my mind. I'd secretly write a book, send it to publishers, and they'd say it was amazing. My book would be sold all over the world, and it would become so popular that I'd be famous. I'd be a millionaire overnight, and I'd leave the orphanage and move to a mansion. I'd have a whole library to myself, with every book ever-- My imagination is interrupted as Ben stands to share his description.
     "This girl is skinny as a toothpick." He loudly tells the class, "And her eyes are the color of vomit."
      "Ben!" Ms.Bailey shouts. But Ben continues, "Her hair is a choppy mess, and it's color belongs on a fire-hydrant." My heart stops. I know who he's talking about.
       "Her name is dumb, it sounds like something you'd call a fat cat."
        I can't stand it anymore. "AT LEAST MY PARENTS BOTHERED TO GIVE ME A NAME!" I scream. Everyone knows Ben was given his name by orphanage employees. His parents had given him up so quick they hadn't even named him.
       "Well-Well..." Ben stutters, "I BET MY PARENTS COULD DRIVE!" He yells. My lip quivers. My parents had died together in a car accident before I was a year old. I run out of the classroom as fast as I can,  fall to my knees on the porch steps, and cry. I sob uncontrollably. I'm vaguely aware of Ms.Bailey behind me. "Why are people so cruel?" I croak, salty tears streaming down my face.

Not the happiest page, sorry. Tell me what you thought in the comments.

Maybe Someday-Page 2

Hey.
So I think my first page of Maybe Someday went pretty good. Let's try another. Ellie (from On The Other Side Of Reality) gave a great suggestion of including more of the main character's thoughts. In this page I will.

      The cafeteria is chaos, as usual. Although, I note to myself, it seems even crazier today! I wonder what's up? The four long tables have people scurrying to and fro, and food flies through the air. Have some manners! I think. Then again, no one in the room had ever been taught manners for the most part. Nobody took the time to teach us to be polite, wait our turn, show kindness, or any normal things people would expect kids to know. I picked up most of that from books, and I guess some of it is just my nature. I'm not as rowdy as the majority of my orphan friends.
    I realize the lunch line has moved on without me. I continued down to the line, sliding my plastic tray of mushy oatmeal and a banana down the counter. At the end I grab a carton of milk and scan the room for a table to sit at. Of course, it's full. I squeeze myself in, between Sarah and a boy I don't know. He has blue eyes, untidy blonde hair, and a splatter of freckles across his nose. He's shouting at a boy at another table. 
    "Hey Ginger." Sarah nods to me quickly before resuming to her noisy chat with a younger girl with bouncy caramel curls. 
     "Can you believe it?" Caramel-curls exclaimed. "I know right!" Sarah practically yelled. I don't blame her. It's kind of hard to hear with all the kids jabbering at once. 
     "What can't you believe?" I asked, curious. 
      "HUH?" The girl asked, twisting to look at me. 
       I said louder, "WHAT IS UNBELIEVABLE?" Sarah gasped, "You haven't heard yet?" "What?" I ask, starting to peel my banana. "A third-building-boy got adopted this morning!" Sarah told me, eagerly spreading the news. The curly-haired girl looked disappointed that she wasn't the one to pass the gossip.
      I gasped, "You're kidding!" That's impossible! I think. In our orphanage, there are three buildings. First-building is for little kids and babies, who need to be watched a lot. You stay there until you're 8. Then you move to second-building, where you stay till you're 13. I just turned 13, so now I'm in the third building. That's where you stay for five years until they kick you out so you can figure out life. Third-building-ers NEVER get adopted. It's just a fact of life. No one wants to adopt teenagers.
     "Yeah, it's true!" Sarah said. "Who was it?" I ask. Did I know him? "Someone called Thomas." Sarah replies. "Tom?!" I exclaim. Thomas was a messy tall boy with awful handwriting and a tendency to pick his nose. Ugh. 
     I should be happy for Thomas, but I'm not. Through all my thirteen years, nobody that has come here has wanted me. No one. That really dents your self-esteem, you know? I want to get adopted, and chances are, it'll never happen. My hope has diminished through the years. When I was a first-building, I tried to act cute and impress anyone who walked near me, just in hopes that they'd take me away from the orphanage. I've always hated it. As a second-building, I didn't do that, but I still would freak out any time there was even the faintest possibility that someone was considering adopting me. But now, as a third, I have only a tiny speck of hope left. One that is nearing extinction. 
     Maybe someday, I'll get my hope back?

As always, thank you for reading, and please nicely critique in the comments. Thank you! 

Maybe Someday... (Me trying to start up a novel idea)

Hi!
I know I've really been neglecting this blog. Writing is just SO time consuming, and I never have time for it! But I have an idea for a book, and I'm going to try it. Here's my idea:
A story of a child/tween/teen (undecided) who dreams of a better life. The title, "Maybe Someday" would be representing the kid's hopes and I would end each chapter with "Maybe someday <hope>." This story requires a lot of research, since I don't know much about orphans. I've done a bit, so I think I have enough for at least a rough-draft page. Anyway... We'll see.

     The morning light filtered through the old, worn cutains that hung limply over the window. I blinked my eyes slowly and rolled over. I moved a hand out from under my scratchy blanket and brushed my orange hair out of my face. My mouth gaped wide in a huge yawn as I sat up. I looked around the room I share with 3 other girls. It seems they are all still asleep. I can see Sarah's dark brown curls flipped over the edge of the bunk above mine.
     Dragging myself up, I pull my feet to the edge of the bed and stare down at my blue pajama pants. They're really too small for me, but I don't think about it. Across the room in the bottom bunk of the bed, I see Madison stirring. I rush to the dresser to grab my clothes and claim the bathroom before someone else does. All four of us share a small squished bathroom, so getting ready in the morning is a battle of sorts. As I scurry past Madison to the bathroom door, she makes a face at me, squinting her eyes. I wink at her, "You snooze you lose."
     I close the door and pull on my rather ratty blue jeans and a green tunic that I have to squirm into. I desperately need some new clothes, but, so does every other kid in this sorry place. I run a plastic comb through my hair and try and force it to look nice. I scrub my teeth with the toothbrush I've had since I can remember. It's pink with green dots all over it. Finally I walk out the door.
     My three room-mates and friends stand outside in their own battered pajamas, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and blinking at me. "Early-birds..." Vicky, who's a zombie in the morning, grouchily mumbles. I chuckle and slip on my shoes. "I want to get to the library before breakfast." I inform them. I walk out of our dorm and head down the hall to the stairs.
      When I reach the library, I smile. This is my favorite place. It's a small room, with grey-chipping walls. There are two book shelves, sepersted into novels and picture books. The librarian, Ms.Thompson, is sitting at her little desk, reading a book with a light blue cover. She glances up and gives me a tiny wave, quickly returning to her novel.
     I stroll over to the "big kids" bookshelf (the one with novels) and select "Charlotte's Web" out of the rows. Swooping down into the single red armchair, the pages flip open easily, and I begin to read. I love books, they have a mystical way of taking me away from this wretched orphanage and off to new places.
    I read for a long long time, but it doesn't feel that way. Soon Ms.Thonpson reels me out of my fantasy world, "Go on downstairs or you'll miss breakfast!" I groan. Miserably, I shut "Charlotte's Web" and slide it back on the shelf. We're not allowed to borrow books from the library anymore. We used to, but a bunch of kids were stealing them.
     On my way to the cafeteria, I think about my reading. Fern, Wilbur and Charlotte live on a farm. I think a farm sounds nice. You would have lots of room, animals, and it would be peaceful, away on your own. Maybe someday, I'll leave Pinewood Orphanage and go live on a farm.

Please critique, (NICELY) in the comments! Thank you!