Young Writers Society

“ Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did you drop anything? My name’s Mcenzy, but you can call me Mick! Who’re you?”

“Jamie, the kitchen is over there, you can help yourself if you’re hungry,” Tricia pointed to the right. Jamie looked up at me, as if she wasn’t sure if she should or not.

I needed to follow her home tomorrow.

The girl brushed her hair from her forehead, flopping back onto her bed, trying to erase the nightmare’s brutal images from her mind with no luck. Pulling herself slowly and painfully to a sitting position, she extended her arms far behind her back, stretching sore, bruised limbs and muscles. After leaving her bed, she made her way to the window and slammed it shut, then found a towel that wasn’t too dirty and wasn’t stained with her blood or stained with blood to take a shower with.

Taking a quick glance at herself in the bathroom mirror, she winced, seeing many open sores and cuts scattered on her forehead, chin and cheeks. Thanks, un-italicize Thanks since it would normally be italicized for being thoughts she thought bitterly.

After taking the longest shower she could without using up all of the hot water, she dressed herself and reached underneath her bed mattress to grab her hidden bag of cosmetics. She had to keep them hidden from him in the fear that he would reprimand her harshly for it, even though he was the reason she had for wearing it. (Even if this is rephrased, it still sounds confusing. Wouldn‘t he notice by her appearance if she was wearing make-up? Hiding the bag would hardly help that fact. And why would she wear it for him if it only pissed him off?)- in fear he would call her many foul names for wearing makeup, though he was the only reason she had for wearing it. He couldn’t tell the difference in her looks when she was not wearing make up from when she was, nor was he ever sober enough to closely examine her. (Oh, whoops x) Here’s the explanation. Still, at this point it doesn’t make sense why she would choose to wear it if he didn’t notice it…)

She frowned as she softly applied the foundation around her face and neck, covering the worst of her abrasions and bruises just enough so that He (doesn’t need to be capitalized) wouldn’t be called to her school. If he was accused of any kind of abuse, it would just end in more scars and lies.

Making sure all of her skin from the neck- no hyphen down was completely covered, she swung her light bag (picky comment, but do you mean light as in lightweight or light colored?) over her shoulder and padded quietly down the stairs, praying that it would not wake him up. She slipped out of the front door, closing it softly behind her.

*~*

Why is it always so cold? I was trudging back to school again, and although the snow had stopped, it was now icy sleet. The school actually looked nice- warm and comfortable after all this frigid frigid what?. Shivering, I ran up the steps and inside.

Thud! You should put sound effects in italics I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I tripped over a girl untying her boots. We both went down in a rolling mass of girl. This sounds really weird. Maybe a rolling mass of limbs instead?

In an instant my instincts kicked in and I was on my feet. But the girl didn’t look mad. On the contrary, she was grinning her head off. Now in most people I’d find that unsettling, but with her it felt strangely comforting.

“ Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did you drop anything? My name’s Mcenzy, but you can call me Mick! Who’re you?”



She said this all so quickly and in one breath, that I could barely just understand her. I did glean the basics though.

“....Mick?”

“Uh huh!!!” She was nice, but seemed very naive. She struck me as the type of person who’d believe almost anything. She was thick, maybe even a little bit stout. She had with round, soft cheeks like autumn apples, no comma and blond hair that hung stylishly around her shoulders. I didn’t dislike her, even if she did strike me as a sort of bimbo. I shook her extended hand. I didn’t see what I could lose from telling her my name.

“Cassandra.” I said.

“Can I call you Cass?” This one breath thing was hard to understand, but I nodded yes. She beamed. “Will you sit with me at lunch? Please?” It was like her smile was contagious. I had to grin back, and say:

“Uh. . . lowercase Sure, I guess.” Then a thought hit me. “Can a friend sit with us too?” She nodded, clearly pleased with the chance to have new friends. “Her name’s Jamie.”

It was like someone had turned out the lights. Mick’s face fell. Her voice slowed.

“You can invite Jamie,” she said, as we walked to our first class together, “but she won’t come. I know- I’ve done it before. In fact, I’m probably the only one who’s bothered to do it before. She always says no.” My brow furrowed.

“Well, we’ll just have to get her to say yes, then.”

*~*

“But Cass, I think she’s trying to hide that she has no lunch to eat.”

I hadn’t thought of that- comma instead but the more I thought about it as I slid into my seat, the more likely it became. Jamie’s seemly anorexia, her cuts.

“Why do you think that is?” Mick asked, putting a pointer finger to her chin as if in thought. Oh, I knew. Jamie didn’t have a lunch, because nobody had ever given her money to eat. It explained her extremely thin figure. The more likely conclusion would be depression, which can be linked to both cutting and a severe lack of appetite.

Just then, I noticed a small form just say Jamie; it’s all too obvious coming into view in the cafeteria, only she didn’t go to the lunch line, she just got a tray and ran outside.

I ignored Mick’s ramblings and followed after her. Again, she was sitting in her same place, watching the roads. Nobody else in their right mind would have been out in the cold. comma here instead But yet Jamie- shy, innocent Jamie,- chose to sit in the freezing snow by herself every day.

Mick followed me outside, where I walked over to Jamie, standing over her. Her head was bent down, and her arms were wrapped around her stomach. Mick was standing behind me, watching with wide eyes.

“Jamie?” I called softly. Abruptly, she looked up at me, no comma with tear-stained cheeks and red eyes. I dropped to my knees beside her.

“A-Are you alright, Jamie?” Mick asked. Jamie wiped the tears from her eyes, nodding her head.

“Alright? I don’t believe that for a minute. What happened?” I could feel my aggressive nature becoming obvious already This is one major no-no in writing. You can‘t come out and SAY that you have a naturally aggressive nature, you have to show us your personality by your actions. To me, Cass doesn‘t seem aggressive at all, because you‘ve done nothing so far to prove that. It‘s like you‘re telling the reader what to think. I hope I’m making sense here x) . Jamie looked frightened, then her hands began to move. It seemed like a blur to me, but Mick was nodding her head and repeating “Uh huh,” as if they were having a conversation. Sign Language. Of course- Jamie communicated in sign language. I looked at Mick questioningly.

“She says she fell down some stairs and hit her gut hard.” Mick said, without looking at me. “Says it hurts.” I nodded at Jamie, who looked relieved and wiped her face again. I’m very curious to how Mick knows sign language. It’s not very common for people to take up the language unless someone they know must use it.

“Sorry, but guys, I am freezing.comma” Mick said. comma“I’m going back inside.” She turned, and I could hear her footsteps crunching through the snow as she went back inside. I didn’t follow, though. Something about Jamie’s story bothered me. How do you fall down stairs and hit your gut?

“You’re coming home with me today.” She looked frightened again, and shook her head no. I’m sure that if she could speak, she’d be trying to make rapid excuses. I ignored her. “You’re coming home with me, and you’re spending the night at my house, and that’s that. Now, we have math, then P. E.another period to end the sentence And you are coming home with me after that.” I knew I’d probably freaked her out then, but I hadn’t put much thought into how I was expected to communicate with regular people. I took her hand and led her inside.

I’m scaring myself. . .



“Cassandra! Why didn’t you tell me you brought these?” Tricia exclaimed, holding a pistol in my face as I put one foot in the house. I gestured my head towards where Jamie was standing, no comma behind the door.

“Oh,” she whispered, then the gun behind her back. I opened the door, and Jamie slowly stepped through. It seems incredibly strange to me that after seeing someone brandishing a gun you’d easily step into their house.

“Hi!” Tricia put on a happy front and smiled widely.

“Tr- Aunt Tricia, this is Jamie.” I introduced her. Jamie hesitantly shook her outstretched hand and smiled briefly.

“Jamie, the kitchen is over there, you can help yourself if you’re hungry,” Tricia pointed to the right. Jamie looked up at me, as if she wasn’t sure if she should or not.

I nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! I’ll meet you in there.” She slowly trekked out of the hall.

Tricia turned back to me, all traces of a smile gone from her face.

“You didn’t tell me you where bringing someone home. . .a simple period would work here” she said.

“Oh, come on, look at the poor girl. She needs me.” I gave her my best attempt at puppy dog eyes. She put her hands on her hips.

I giggled at her.

“That look so works for you, Trish.” I winked at her and walked into the kitchen.

Jamie sat in a stool along the counter. She seemed almost lost, like she wasn’t sure what to do.

“You hungry? I’ll make us something.” I said offered. She shook her head rapidly, so I gave her a notepad and pen. She scribbled, No, really, I’m alright. I chuckled at her.

“Sure you are. I’m making you something anyway.” She started to write, but I stopped her. She looked at me with worried eyes.

“If you want it, you eat it. If you don’t, you don’t have to. Nobody is forcing you into anything,” I told her solemnly. She slowly nodded, her arms finding their way around her stomach again.



I turned to the refrigerator, narrowing my eyes. I knew Jamie was lying about falling. Something was going on, and I needed to find out what it was.

I knew what I needed to do.

I needed to follow her home tomorrow.