Hey, does this sound good so far???

Hey, how's this sound so far??? It's called the Reinvention.





Chapter 1:


A Perfectly Normal Day...sort of





MINDEE FAIRFIELD rested her chin onto her thin and delicate palm, staring out her school’s window in Beverly Hills, daydreaming. Her teacher, Mr. Barkley had been rambling on and on about the book they had just finished; The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Mindee herself had read the book in middle-school, and had done a seven hundred word essay on it too. Mindee looked around her classroom, pass Mr. Barkley who was rubbing his greasy button nose, and pass several of her classmates who were all, conveniently texting under their desks. Mindee turned back to her window. It was almost better to daydream then waste a class period texting.


Beep! Beep!


Mindee shook herself out of her second daydream, and turned her head around. Where had that noise come from?


Mr. Barkley walked around the classroom, pausing now and then to snatch iPhones and Motorazrs from students’ clutch. He stopped short at Mindee’s desk, glaring at her.


“Yes, Mr. Barkley?” Mindee said, casually.


“Ms. Fairfield, you are aware that your cellphone is ringing, correct?”


Mindee’s face turned a bright shade of red. How could she have been so stupid? Having it on during class, especially during Mr. Barkley’s!


“Hand it over, Ms. Fairfield.” Mr. Barkley said, impatiently.


Mindee reached into her desk and pulled out her Coach cosmetics bag. Inside the hidden pocket, Mindee pulled out the sleek black iPhone and checked her messages, quickly.


“Ms. Fairfield...” Mr. Barkley said, tapping his heinous brown loafer shoes on the linoleum.


“Okay, okay, hold on...it’s from my Mom?” Mindee said puzzled.


“Let me see!” Mr. Barkley ordered. In one swift movement, he snatched the phone away in and was examining it in his large hand.


“Okay, you’re off the hook this time, Ms. Fairfield. But only because it’s an emergency.”


Mindee rolled her eyes and slid her phone back into its pouch. It was a text message from her Mom, asking Mindee to have the text message relayed to the Secretary, excusing her from school at twelve-thirty, so Mindee could see her off, before she left for Minneapolis to shoot for her movie, When the Sand Runs Out.


Mindee glanced at the clock. It was almost twelve-fifteen. Fifteen more minutes until this dreaded class was over. Mindee sighed. Mr. Barkley was going on again about the book, and what F. Scott Fitzgerald was trying to tell readers...blah, blah, blah. Mindee pulled out her compact mirror from her cosmetics bag and glanced at her flawless reflection. Fair skin, dark brown curls, green eyes, and a perfect smile, obviously inherited from her mother’s side. But what Mindee wished, was that she had blond hair and sea green eyes, like the beach girls in California and Florida. She was tired of people telling her she looked exactly like her mother.


Mindee’s father, like her mother was famous. Wade Dashiell Evans was a screenplay writer. He had written over seven Oscar nominee movies, and even got one himself, for his innovative writing for ‘Torrential Rains.’ Mindee hardly ever saw much of her father. Usually he was at his studio from morning until usually the morning the next day. The only time she saw him, was for holidays. Lynn Fairfield’s schedule was usually flexible. She only did big time movies that were somewhat close to home, and only took out-of-state and out-of-country movies when she was certain that Mindee’s father was home. It was a wonder how her mother got to be a big star.


Mindee looked back at the clock and smiled to herself. It was twelve-thirty. She gathered her books into her navy blue hobo sac and stuck her cosmetics bag into the sac, haphazardly. She stood up from her chair, pushed it back in, than gestured to the door with her head to Mr. Barkley who nodded.


“Hey Mindee, where are you going?” Keely Henderson asked.


Mindee turned around slowly to face her. Keely was probably the snootiest girl at her school. She always wanted to know more about Mindee’s ‘fabulous’ life and her ‘fabulous’ parents. But truth be told, Mindee hated girls like Keely...like Keely.


“Mindeeeeeee, you know I don’t like secrets.” Keely said, forming her bee stung lips into a puffy pout.


Mindee rolled her eyes. “Yeah well, I don’t like you.”


Keely started laughing hysterically, her hand over her heart. “Now that was a good one. Call me later then.”


Mindee was surprised that Mr. Barkley could see people texting, but not see people talking.


Honk! Honk!


Mindee’s attention was toward the window now. A long sleek black limo had just parked outside their window, and honking.


“Mom...” Mindee said softly.


“Is that your Mom, Min?” Keely asked, standing up from her chair. Her red-gold tendrils bouncing at its fullest.


“Sure.” Mindee said. She finally had the courage to turn the knob and walk out.

Hey, does this sound good so far???
You have a lot of areas that need improvement. Spelling and grammar are but two. Punctuation is another. You also have a bad case of what I call JKRowlingitis. This is but another version of The Clique and so many of those other unrealistic teen girlie books out there. Which is very apparent in the use of terms like red-gold tendrils and bee sting lips. That is not your "voice". I would be willing to bet you a new computer that in your entire LIFE you have never said "Mom, can you take me to the beauty salon? I need to get my tendrils cut."





Sorry dear, but people just do not talk like that except in these novice type teenage books. There is really nothing original about it whatsoever. Unless you have some massive ideas for how to make it original, I don't see it really going anywhere.





Pax-C
Reply:You have some spelling and mechanics issues that really bug anal retentive me. One sees PAST someone, not pass them.





There is nothing to indicate that the message from her mother is an emergency, yet the teacher lets her off the hook...as a teacher, I'd say that's unrealistic.





Mindee's father, like her mother, comma, was famous (parenthetical)





It's an "Oscar-nominated" movie or screen play, and he had even won once.





Usually he was in his studio from morning until usually morning. Huh? Doesn't make much sense. He must sleep at some time, and two usuallys?





Then you have Keely almost swooning about the mother/movie star. People at Beverly Hills High don't care about movie stars. It's everyday for them.





It's a pretty good start, I don't know if I'm too old for it, though. Don't read a whole lot about high school aged girls, anymore.
Reply:i think it sounds great! keep on writing!


%26lt;3, princefroggieluvr

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