We've all read books where descriptions are overdone (Victor Hugo, I'm lookin' at you ... 60 pages of sewer system ... Not ashamed to say I did skip that part.) Nothing is more frustrating than getting to the exciting climax and stopping mid-battle for a description of the wool the enemy's cloak was made of and what the sheep ate to give it such a lustrous texture.
On the other hand, description can add depth and dimension to a book. Katniss has goat cheese ... from her little sister's goat ... who Katniss saved from slaughter. Depth. Connection. It means something to the reader, the characters become endearing, and people are sucked in.
The prompt for this week is to describe a piece of your character's space, be it their desk, their car, their purse, their dorm room, etc. Show us a little about who your character is by describing something that is inherently a reflection of them.
Enjoy!
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My response:
"Adele!"
I hear the cough of an engine behind me and turn, pulling an ear bud out of my ear.
"Adele, you need a ride?"
I peer into the faded, green VW pulling up next to me. I suck in my breath and bite my lower lip. I walk to school early on purpose, so the other juniors don't see me. They all have cars and driver's licenses. I, on the other hand, skipped second grade, and while I've been able to blow off my school girl image and even make the varsity cheer squad this year, I won't turn sixteen until next fall. And now, Devon McBride, star receiver on the football team, has me caught red handed. He reaches across the passenger seat and pops the door open for me.
"Yeah," I say, searching for an explanation. There is none. "Yeah, thanks."
"No biggie."
I slide in, the worn leather soft under my thighs, and it's like diving into a pool of car freshener. Two little trees, one faded and the other fresh, hang from the tab in front of the vent. I'm surprised at how clean the car is, given how it looks from the outside. Devon has an old-school ipod plugged into the stereo and something from P!NK is playing. He turns the music down, a blush rising up his neck.
"Sorry, my sister borrowed the car last night."
I see right through his lie, and it feels like we just shared an inside joke. I reach over and turn the volume back up. "I like this one." I pull the door shut, and he shoots me a smile before pulling back into traffic.
I drop my bag at my feet and my fingers brush a paperback. There's a picture of a metal insect on the cover. Mark Frost. "This your sister's too?"
He glances over. "Ah ..." He meets my eyes for a moment. "Stuff that back under the seat for me, will you? If the team sees it, they'll be ..." He cuts off a swear word, his eyes darting over again. "Sorry. They just won't get it, I mean."
I've never actually had someone apologize to me for swearing. It's cute. Devon made varsity as a freshman, so even when I made JV cheer, I didn't get much of a chance to interact with him. Is it possible that he's every bit as nice as his reputation? I stuff the book back under my seat. "I read that one, too. Doesn't the next one come out soon?"
"I'm on the list for it at the library." His smile is ear to ear, and I spot the library card dangling on his key chain.
"Cool."
"You hungry?" Devon reaches back and pulls a package of Chips Ahoy! from behind my seat.
"For breakfast?"
He shrugs, using one hand to pull a few cookies out. I take one from his open palm and watch the other two disappear into his mouth as we pull into the school parking lot. Now I'm wishing it wasn't so early. I'd love for Claire to see me pull up in Devon's car.
We both climb out, and Devon pulls his football gear from the trunk, throwing it over his shoulder. He looks across the car at me. "Same time tomorrow?"
Though he hadn’t been home in more than a decade, if he closed his eyes, he could still see it. Could still hear the grass, cropped short from the cows, under his shoes. Could still see the line of thickly brambled trees at the bottom of the gentle slope that hid the small creek until you were almost stepping in it. Could still smell the cow manure mixed with honeysuckle as the breeze swirled around the pasture. Could still feel the rough ground punishing his feet through the rubber soles of his Nikes as he ran toward the trees.
ReplyDeleteFor all brave enough to make their way through the thorns and poison ivy that draped the trees, there was another world in there. Now that he was older, he was sure that it wasn’t true, but he always used to swear that the temperature would drop by 10 degrees once you got in among the oaks, elms, and beeches, no matter how hot, or cold, it was in the pasture.
The creek was more of a trickle most years, but it never dried up completely. There were always plenty of bugs, frogs, raccoons, and other things to find and explore. Once he and Jimmy had even found a skunk. His mom hadn’t been happy about that one. Of course, he wasn’t too happy about all the tomato juice baths afterward either.