Young Writers Society

I accidently put the first part in short stories.. and I don't know how to move it... but this is for school and comments are greatly appreciated. I'd love suggestions. Thanks!

We got to town and Brendan hopped out before we even stopped. My Mama gave me a quarter, “Buy something sweet for you and your brother and sister,” she told me, “and hold onto Annabelle’s hand!”

I darted after my brother, Annabelle in tow. She could only go so fast on those short stubby legs so eventually I picked her up, “Brendan, wait up!” I called after him. He slowed and soon the three of us made our way into the store. The store was dimly lit, the only light shone through the big windows and shimmered off floating specks of dust. We knew the store well, as we came every time we went to town so Brenden instantly made his way over to the sweets. Annabelle tore away from me to do the same.

“Well, hello there, Miz. Becca,” said the man at the other end of the store. “Can I getcha anything?.” He had curling red sideburns and his two front teeth stuck out like a rabbit. His sleeves were pulled up past his elbows, making his arms look thicker and him too big to be standing behind that counter.

I nodded, “Hello Mr. Farber. No thank you, we’re just looking.”

“Big day, ain’t it?” He asked me. “I reckon’ yer Mama and Papa are out there voting, huh?”

“Yes, sir. Mama gave me some money for sweets for the kids.”

“She always does,” he said, with a grin that revealed his crooked yellow teeth. The Farber’s don’t have any slaves, they barely have any land, they just live on top of the little store and do all their work themselves. White trash, that’s what Mama says. Mama says you need to speak properly or people are gonna think you’re white trash. May Farber and I used to play together when we were little but she doesn’t go to a French School like me. Patty Morris says not to play with her just ‘cause she’s dirty sometimes and doesn’t speak properly and doesn’t act like a lady.

I went over to where Annabelle and Brenden were staring at the sweets. “Cakey!” Annabelle squealed in her toddler fashion, a chubby finger pushed against the glass, pointing to a little yellow cake.

“Do you know what you want?” I asked Brenden, resolving that I would get a cake for myself, too. He nodded and held up a bag of chocolate covered peanuts.

A few feet away, I recognized young man John’s age, Nicholas Connors. Mr. Connors had a plantation like ours but he sent Nicholas to a boarding school up North. Nick had caught “abolitionist fever” as it was called. John used to talk about all the things Nick would tell him until Daddy told him that if he continued to talk like that he would have to go earn his own living. Daddy’s face got all red and puffy when anyone talked about abolition. He said Nicholas was just a trouble maker
Nicholas Connors was leaning on the counter talking to Mr. Faber, his face twisted down so that his dirty-blond bangs covered his eyes. I moved closer to Nicks arms, wispy blond hair highlighted his tan. John said he worked out in the fields as much as possible, right along side his workers. “Now if you ask me,” he was saying. “There’s no point in all this anti-Lincoln talk. All the man wants is to stop the spread of our ‘peculiar institution’.” He didn’t hide the sarcasm in his tone.
Mr. Faber nodded thoughtfully, “But what about this secession stuff. You think they’se serious about it?”

“I think the cotton kings down here will do anything to protect themselves. They’re desperate for it. But I think there’s gonna be fighting. Conflicts like this can’t end without bloodshed.”

Like war? I thought nervously. The only war I’d ever known was the one with Mexico but that had been so far away. A war between the North and the South.. that would be right here, right at home. I didn’t get to hear any more of the conversation because my hand had slipped from Annabelle and she had used all her toddler might to push through Nicholas’s legs and exclaim, “Cakey!’ at the towering counter.

Nicholas stepped back, startled, and then laughed when he realized who it was. “Oh God, I’m so sorry!” I hurried forward to scoop up my sister.

“It’s really no problem at all,” Nicholas said genuinely, as he turned to look at me and said, “Why, Miss. Becca Walker how very nice to see you.” Nick hadn’t come calling in a long time but sometimes I saw him with John.

“Nice to see you, too, Nicholas,” I greeted him, attempting a curtsy just like Patty said all the ladies do.

He smiled widely, revealing rows of neat white teeth, “Is the whole family in town this afternoon. I haven’t seen y’all in so long.”

“Mama and Daddy are voting,” I informed him. “John went with them, he likes to pretend he’s as old as our father.” I tried not to let the bitterness show in my voice, remembering that John and Nick were friends. “We are going to go meet them after, if you would like to come.” I offered.

‘That sounds excellent,” Nicholas said. I paid for the sweets and we walked back out to the dusty roads to meet my family at the court house.

We had dinner in the park that evening. John graciously invited Nicholas who was able to get back on Daddy’s good side by holding his tongue about his opinions. Daddy talked about the election, “Ole’ Lincoln wasn’t even on the ballot, we may have hope left in this country after all!” He lifted his cup which my brother chinked cheerfully.

“We just might,” Nicholas said. I wondered if I was the only one who picked up the irony in his voice.

Hi! It's me again.

So, I read this second part and I think that you do a good job continuing the threads you began in the first part. I think I'm hooked into the story now! I really like how you've captured small town life in the south in the 1800s -- it shows in this part especially. I like how you have the bit in about the election of 1860 having two different races in the north and south. A lot of people seem to forget that. Just a question, though. How old is Becca? I was getting the impression that she was eighteen or nineteen, but then you say that her older brother is seventeen.

Mostly, I think a lot of the same issues are popping up. You're great with painting a picture and showing us where these characters are, but your pace is still moving too fast and these parts are so short that you don't really have the opportunity to develop the characters properly. Becca seems very passive, and I'm not getting much emotion out of her. She would have been young during the war against Mexico. This will be the first that has a real impact on her life, so you have to show that instead of just giving generic thoughts about how she doesn't war to come. I think you can develop her by adding more of her individual thoughts and opinions. What does she think about slavery? What does she think about not being a part of the United States? The other characters I don't really know because they're not really in the story. You're dropping a whole bunch of names but never spending much time with them. Because she's older, how does she care for her younger siblings? Are they close?

The only character you've given real development is John, and even then it feels somewhat skewed. Why do they hate him just because he's trying to act grown-up? He's not twelve, he's seventeen. I can see if he acts really arrogant and cocky about being the oldest, but you have to show us some of those instances.

Also, a note. Not everyone in the south possessed slaves. Slaves mostly worked on plantations. The reason there were a lot of slaves was because there were a lot of plantations since the south was mainly agricultural. Smaller houses might have had black servants, but there were those who were to poor or simply not in need of slaves. So you wouldn't be considered an outcast of society if you didn't have one.

All in all, I think this was a good installment and I'm excited to see where it leads. Let me know when you post more! Keep up the awesome work.

~ Elinor