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April 8th, 2008

Teaser Tuesday: 25 Lies

 From my WIP, Twenty-Five Lies (the Cinderella retelling):

"Stephanie! You’re dripping all over the tile!”

I snap out of my spaciness to realize I’ve left a big pool of water at my feet.  I reach for a dishtowel, but when I yank at it, three glasses and a bowl come with it. They tumble to the ground and shatter at my feet.

Cindy smirks. “Smooth, Steph.”

“Just get me a broom.”

She nods and walks over to the broom closet just as the doorbell rings.  I’m stuck in the middle of a pile of broken glass, bare feet and all, so I can’t move.

With the broom in her left hand, she opens the door. “Hey Brian! You’re early. Let me just finish with this,” she says, holding up the broom, “and I’ll meet you at your car.”

I can’t see him but I imagine him nodding.  “Chores again, eh?”

She laughs flirtatiously and then says something about how she’s “almost done,” and shuts the door.

Seriously. As she hands me the broom and goes up to her room to “check her makeup” I carefully extract myself from the mess.  It’s going to take me half the night to find all the slivers of glass in the kitchen.  And since one of the glasses had been filled with Orange juice, it’s now sticky too. Which means I get to mop.

While Cindy is out on a date.

“Hey Mom?” I say. She’s still sitting at the counter, flipping through a travel brochure. Her auburn hair has sort of slid over her eyes, so I can’t see the bags under them. Lately it’s like she’s been sliding into this dark hole. It’s the reason I didn’t really protest about the vacation bait and switch. I wanted to. But the look on her face as Cindy showed her the Feirwey travel guide said she was excited. Cindy claims her dad did a semester abroad at the International University of Feirwey or something, and that was all it took.  My mom was so into it she literally squealed.

She looks up at me and her blue eyes are glowing. Yeah, I didn’t get those either; mine are the color of mud. I was going to ask her about the palace tour, but I don’t. “Maybe we can go to the University. Maybe even find Jim’s old dorm. “

She grins at me.  “Oh honey, I knew you’d be supportive. We can go to New York next year, okay?”

For one second, I almost ask, “Just the two of us?” but I don’t.

 I’m not supposed to be jealous of a girl whose Mom and Dad are dead.

So how come I am?

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Kiddo Pictures

Here is my daughter, hard at work on her Great American Novel:

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And here she ponders the scene, and how it pertains to her character's journey:
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