Sample #1

The moment Dad said I do, it was like the Incredible Hulk had seized my guts and tossed them up and down the rose-petaled aisle. While he was at it, he could have torn out my heart too, and wrapped in the dainty baggies with the jordan almonds. And the Hulk might as well have taken my tongue and wrapped it up all neat in their pile of wedding gifts, because as long as Dad was married to Barb, I'd no longer have a say in anything. 

Honestly, I wished a huge green superhuman would have shown up during the wedding, because I was hoping for something to come along and ruin it, and I knew it couldn't have been me. When the priest had asked if there were any objections, I looked to the church doors, where I had expected the Hulk, or maybe, Mom, to come in and stop the whole darn thing. 

But I knew that the likelihood of Mom coming in to stop Dad's wedding to Barb was way less likely than the Incredible Hulk himself. Mom was happy without Dad. And not fake Everything is fine, I promise sort of happy, but like... happy happy. Both of them were. Yesterday, I didn't think I'd feel this way, standing next to Dad while he got remarried to a lady who wasn't my mom. I thought it would be a breeze. I thought I'd be apathetic, at the very least. I had no clue I'd be... heartbroken. The thing was, I didn't really want my parents back together. Most of the time, when they were together they were fighting and stressing me out so much my stomach would twist and knot like a balloon animal.

Of course, when they dropped the D word a few years ago, I was devastated. But I didn't think it had much to do with the fact that they were separating, but it was just the actual word divorce, which seemed like a black, swirling cloud that rained toxic waste. I was upset and beside myself until we actually moved into Grandma's, where I realized what life without constant bickering was like, (besides the light bickering between Mom and Grandma, but that's totally different.) It was like I was able to breathe again.

Then eight months ago, Dad dropped another word, marriage, which felt more like the sweet, creamy inside of an eclair. But as I stood in the echoey church in my stiff, taffeta gown, the word seemed much more akin to a crusty scab.

Sample #2

“You know why you’re here,” Mr. Carmichael said. He kept his voice low and grave, as if Ruby had killed another student in cold blood. 

Unlike all the other times she landed herself in his office, she was caught red-handed. This time, the crime was plain and simple. “I spat in Ali McMahon’s face,” Ruby replied. She attempted to keep pride in her voice, but still pulled at her dark hair nervously, waiting for Mr. Carmichael to decide how she was to be punished. 

While the crime may not have been akin to murder, it was still pretty bad, Ruby knew. Ruby also knew, however, that she wasn’t at all sorry that she had spit in Ali’s face, and she was only sorry that there was absolutely no mystery in the crime. There wasn’t any speculation as to who had done it, like the time Ava Reese’s hair was mysteriously chopped below her braid, or when Henry Ballinski’s glasses were blacked out with permanent marker, seemingly at the blink of an eye. Ruby had spit on Ali in front of a cafeteria full of witnesses.

Earlier that day at lunch, Ruby stood in line at the cafeteria register with her plastic tray of lunchroom slop, and behind her she could hear Ali saying, “She is just so… weird. It’s a miracle she has any friends at all.”

Ruby felt in her gut (which was usually spot-on), that Ali had been talking about her. She turned around to check if her suspicions were right, and Ali and her friend sucked in their lips to avoid letting out any laughter as Ruby stared. Ruby thought that with Ali’s sucked in lips, she looked like a pimple ready to pop. Ali’s complexion was red and freckly, and the thin, red hair that framed her round face nearly blended in. 

Ruby felt furious, but she decided to ignore it, and turned back around to step forward in line. 

“I mean,” Ali continued, raising her voice a bit, “the poor girl thinks she’s a witch.”

Ruby cringed.

“It’s sad, really. If I were her parents, I’d disown her.” Ali dropped her voice again, just low enough to be sure Ruby could hear. “I’m sure her family doesn’t even love her.”

That’s when Ruby whipped around and spat in Ali’s face— one big, fat, juicy spit. Everyone had seen it happen. Finally, they had actually seen Ruby commit a crime. After a look of utter disgust, Ali smirked. I got you now, she said without words. Immediately, a teacher swooped in, grabbed Ruby by the arm, and brought her to the principal’s office. 

Sample #3

The day my father left, all I could think about were the glasses he’d left behind.

Dad was pretty much blind without his glasses. If he didn’t have his glasses on in the morning, he’d put salt in his coffee instead of sugar. If he forgot to put them on before he got dressed, he’d walk out of the house with his shirt inside out. Once, he didn’t have his glasses on when he greeted one of our neighbors. He yelled, “Good morning, Mr. O’Neil!” when it was actually Mrs. O’Neil in her nightcap. We moved, like, a week after that. But then again, we were always moving.

The morning I didn’t find Dad in his room, I took a whole twenty minutes deciding what to wear before beginning down the hall. I stood in his doorway and smoothed out my green dress.

“Does it look okay with the stains?” I asked.

Dad’s room was empty. His bed was unmade, and on his dresser were his watch, his glasses, and a folded piece of paper. I opened it, finding a typed letter. 

                            Danielle,
      I’m sorry to leave in such a rush. They want me to do

 a profile of that mayor in the Westlands. Couldn’t turn it
      down. I left early and didn’t want to wake you.

                          Be back soon,
                               Dad

Be back soon—Dad? That’s all he had to say after leaving me home alone? Dad never went anywhere without me! Besides, he knew how fascinated I was with Mayor Earnestine in the Westlands, who was in the news a lot lately because it was discovered he’d been using a fortuneteller to make all of his important decisions. So why didn’t he bring me? No matter how controversial the story, no matter how far away, and certainly no matter how early in the morning, I always went with Dad.

At first I thought it must be a joke. Maybe Dad was waiting for me downstairs in his favorite chair, ready to make fun of me for believing what he wrote. But when I went down to check, he wasn’t there.

The house we had only lived in for three weeks was silent. I never liked how that house sat in the woods so far from anything lively and fun. We only had a couple of neighbors, but they were as weird and quiet as the woods. At night after we turned off the TV, there were no street sounds to listen to, just the eerie noises of the trees and bats. I hated the silence. I closed my eyes and strained my ears to try to hear something, anything at all, in that house. The clock above the stove ticked. The fridge hummed. Somewhere outside, an annoying bird squawked.

This joke better be good, I thought. But so far it’s not funny.