Chapter One

I live with my mother. My father left us when I was born. My mother is a happy person even though she has many responsibilities and needs to take care of me by herself. She is an Asian-American, and her family is originally from Taiwan. She has big and beautiful black eyes that I really want. My eyes are brown. But I’ve got something from her, too. My hair, that is, the smooth, beautiful black hair.

        Richard Jaxxe’s music is playing in the background. I sing along to his song “Burn the Place Down”. He is my favorite singer of all time, and I always wanted to go to his concerts. He sings rock music, but the lyrics he has written are without bad words, nor is there dirty stuff. That is why I like him. Unlike most rock stars, he doesn’t sleep with a bunch of girls, and he is always being nice and polite to people. This is a truth everyone knows.

        “Let’s burn the place down, shout it out! Sing the song, and jump up high! Swing with the music, feeling the tenderness . . .” I can memorize all those lyrics from his albums. My mother is okay with me buying those CDs and stuff, but she is never interested in what I am buying or listening because she is too busy with her job and housework. I have at least ten of Richard Jaxxe’s bootlegs and about all of his albums. My favorite album has an awesome cover with him wearing a cowboy hat, a denim jacket, and a pair of jeans. His eyes are looking straight into the camera, so that it seems like he is staring at you. That is his third album, “Broken Hearted”(1984).

        The song is about to end, then I hear my mother calling me from downstairs.

        “Can you help me cook? You know I am bad at cooking . . .” True, my mother is really not good at cooking. She always asks me for help with that soft tune that makes me worry about her. She is always forgetting things, or hurting herself or something like that. She is so delicate, I feel like I should do my best to take care of her. Sometimes I think of my father, hating him for leaving us, for leaving such a cute wife; sometimes I miss him, and sometimes I even try to ask my mother for more information about him, but my mother always shows me that sad smile and tells me that I will not understand . . .

        “Are you baking cupcakes . . . oh, Mom, please don’t tell me you forget to put the sugar in.”

        My mother gives me a sorry smile, and nods slowly. “I guess I really did forget to put in some sugar.”

        I sigh a little and take out the plate which has ten cupcakes on it and throw them in the trashcan. After about fifteen minutes, the new set of cupcakes are ready, this time with sugar, then my mother and I both take five of them.

        “Bye, Mom, I have to go. Have a good day and take care, okay?” I hug her and grab my bag.

        “Watch out for the cars, sweetheart.” She hugs back and waves me goodbye.

 

        It is the first week of summer. On my way to my new work place, I kept thinking about Richard Jaxxe and his songs. I have my earphones on, and turn the volume to the lowest so that I can still hear everything around me.

        I work at The Lost Bar as a part-time waitress this summer. My mother tells me that she used to work there when she was my age, so she recommended me to try to work there and introduced me to the bartender last week. At first the bartender didn’t want me to come because I am too young. But I really want to get a job and thanks to my mother, after she talked to the bartender, he had finally agreed but told my mother and I like a thousand times that I cannot get involved to drinks or cigarettes. Actually, I only work for few hours before it gets too late in the evening, so I can just go around the stores nearby. Since this is my first day at work, so instead of wasting my time and joking around I decide to go to the bar straight away and see if there is anything that I can do to help.

        The bartender is middle-aged, about forty or so. He is overweight, and he is wearing a dirty, oily white shirt, with a pair of jeans, which are clearly too small for him. As I see him, I feel that I am too well-dressed. I have a white dress on, which I have put in my closet for a long time, and I am wearing my black shoes which make me look like I am going to a piano concert or something like that. Also, I have my cherry black hair down. I always make my hair into a ponytail. So I should have worn my usual T-shirt, sneakers, and overall instead.

        “Ah, good morning, Miss Landelle.” The bartender has already memorized my name. But I barely know his.

        “Good morning, sir,” so then I say.

        The bartender looks at me, as if I just said something weird. “Oh, it is way too formal. Call me John, just call me John.”

        “OK, John.” I say and smile a little.

        John smiles back. “So do you mind if I call you Rae instead of Miss Landelle?” He talks really fast that I really cannot understand what he is talking about. But I try my best. Though what he just said sounds something like “mind I call Rae instead Miss Landelle” to me.

        “Yea, it is alright.” I reply.

        The bar is a little relaxing place in downtown, and it will become a kind of crowded at night, with young guys and girls, lonely singles, and many different kind of people. There are not pretty much customers in the mornings, they usually come around in the evenings, more come at around nine or ten at night. The café section will be full of people who enjoy eating pasta or French stuff. But by the evening, the bar will be full of rock ‘n’ roll music, the smell of cigarettes, and alcohol.

        I head to Burger King for lunch and order a cheeseburger and Sprite. As I am eating, I pull out my lyrics book from my pocket and start writing. I’ve been writing songs ever since I was five, and I really enjoy singing my own songs.

 

        No one knows how it’ll be for tomorrow, so I am just going to live through today. Happily, joyfully, don’t think about the future. I won’t waste my time; I will save it for you.

 

        I stop to think for a while, and the words come out from my mind. The pen starts working again. About half an hour later, I walk back to The Lost Bar.

        John is taking a nap, so I try my best to walk quietly, and grab a cupcake from the bag that I left on the table before I went out for my lunch. Then I walk out of the bar again, for there is nothing that I can do right now. I ride my bike, slowly heading to the park near the bar. There is a candy shop across the street, so I stop by to buy some lollipops and candy. I park my bike by the street and find a nice spot in the park and sit down for a bit.

        The weather is great. The sky is so pure, so blue that it seems like you are looking at some kind of art with only one color, like the kind of sky a little kid usually draw on those white papers. It seems to me that the sun is really smiling, as if it is in a really good mood. It is not too hot today, with a little wind and the smell of fresh, green grass.

        Sometimes I need to stay away from those thoughts about my father and my mother, just anything about my family. Sometimes I feel so tired and sick of worrying about my mother, but this doesn’t usually happen. Sometimes I just need to relax. Even though I take singing and song-writing as my dream or some kind of duty, I still need to stop thinking about them all once in awhile, or else I will feel really bad, and I will be in somehow the lacking of controlling my emotions, then a huge negative feeling is going to overwhelm me and I will lose myself in it. That is the reason why I always like to walk out and stay outside sometimes.

        I am not that kind of girl who sleepovers at friends’ houses. In fact, I don’t really have any friend, except for Vivian Orden, a girl from the same high school as I am. She is that kind of girl who looks so girly that you will think that you need to protect her, but it’s completely opposite since she never gets herself hurt. You will never tell from her look that she is the kind of girl that is so manly that even girls are into her. She skips every chemistry class she can and never hand in her homework in time. I didn’t even want to make friend with her when I first saw her back in fourth grade because of her “whatever” attitude, but then I found us unexpectedly suitable for each other. She is really a good friend and has given me good advice when I need help or when I am not feeling so well. As for me, my four feet eleven-point-eight inches always makes me look like a twelve-year-old(people even hand me children’s menu in restaurants, but it doesn’t really bother me because I don’t eat much). Now that we are going to be sophomores after this summer vacation, and I really hope that we can still be in the same class.

        Just when I am thinking about Vivian, my phone rings.

        “Hey, I was just thinking about you.” I say, taking out a lollipop and start eating.

        “Well, me, too. We should really be sisters.” She laughs from the other side of the cell phone, “So where are you exactly?”

        “I am working at The Lost Bar.”

        “As a singer?”

        “Unfortunately, as a waitress.”

        “Poor you, Rae. But I guess I’m gonna come tonight to see you, and maybe I can bring some hot guys home.”

        “Oh, c’mon, Vivian, that’s so gross.”

        “You’ll never know, sis,” she says, “I’d better go. I’ll see you then!”

 

        I have been walking around those shops and a big mall near The Lost Bar for hours, by six thirty I ride my bike back to the bar. There are already several people sitting by the bar and waiting for John to bring them some drink. I quickly step through the door and settle all my things onto the table, and then I grab a plate and prepare to send the sandwiches someone ordered earlier to table number two. I try to walk through a group of people, but they haven’t even notice me, maybe because of my height. I poke one of the boys and say my “excuse me”, then I can finally go forward. I walk to the table with difficulty, and then I hit someone, about t0 fall down as I try so hard to save the plate. Before the plate falls onto the ground, the man I just hit gets it and hands it to me.

        “I am so sorry, sir.”

        A young man, about twenty three or so, wearing a suit, looking all business like, is now standing in front of me. He has a beautiful face, a pair of gray eyes, so deep that it is like a hole that will draw me in. His brown looks soft under the light.

        “It is alright. Are you okay?” The young man asks, helping me take the plate to the right table.

        “I . . . I am okay. I am really sorry.” I keep apologizing and bowing, as if these behaviors will make everything better, and they really do.

        He looks me into the eyes and shakes his head with a smile. “As you see, I’ve got no wounds and no cuts and not even a scar, so I am absolutely fine.”

        I smile back. His smile is comforting, and he is being really polite. “Thank you, sir.”

        He nods. “So you work here?”

        “Yes,” I answer, his gaze moves from the empty plate to my eyes again. I wonder what he is thinking about right now. Am I being too brave to talk with a complete stranger? Do I look weird in the dress I am wearing today? Do I look like a twelve-year-old to him?

        “Well, I guess I should come here more often.” He chuckles, and pulls out his right hand.

        “Excuse me. What?” I say surprisingly.

        “I said I am going to come here more often because of you. By the way, my name is Erik Grayson.”

        “My name is Rae. Rae Landelle.” Then I offer my hand. No one has ever shook my hand, when they introduce themselves to me in my life before. People usually just smile and tell me their names. I can feel the warmth of his hand that covers mine. Then I blush. My face must look like a red apple now.

        “You’d better keep working, am I right?” He says, handing me a little card with his connect info, “Umm . . . sorry for using your time. I have to run, too. So . . . hope I will see you again.”

        After this Erik Grayson disappears behind the door and out of sight. I decide to take a look on the business card he just gave me.

 

        ERIK GRAYSON

        Piano production department/singer-songwriter department

        Email: [email protected]

        Sierra and Tim Music Company, 34746

 

        So he is a musician. I now realize, I stare at the card for another second, until I feel someone’s palms covering my eyes.

        “Guess who?”

        I turn around to see Vivian standing there, smiling at me, evilly. I know something is going to happen.

        “I saw everything . . .” She sings, and I know she is going to ask for details after I am done with my work today.

        “Oh, Vivian, please don’t . . .” I groan.

        “I wanna know every words he said, sugar pie.” She calls out as I walk back to the kitchen and being prepared to deliver another plate of sandwiches, or beef, or anything that is ordered.

        My work ends at ten o’clock, so when the clock hits ten, I grab my stuff and jump into Vivian’s car.

Author's Note

Please tell me if I make any grammar problems. Please list them if possible. Thank you.

Reviews

[Stan]

" His eyes looked straight to the camera that it seems like he’s there staring at you."

This sentence is a little awkward. How about this? " His eyes are looking straight into the camera, so that it seems like he’s staring at you." What do you think?

"It seems like she is so delicate that I feel like I should try my best to take care of her."
Rather than suggesting she might be delicate, maybe you should say so.
'She is so delicate, I feel like I should try my best to take care of her."

I like your writing, you have an engaging tone. When I read, I feel that I would like the narrator who is speaking to me. That's important.

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

Thanks.

[Stan]

Here are some more suggestions. Remember, these are just suggestions. Are you reading your story to yourself out loud? That's always a good thing to do.

I work at The Lost Bar as a part-time waitress this summer. My mother tells me that she used to work there when she was my age, so she recommended me and introduced me to the bartender last week. At first the bartender didn't want me to come, because I am too young. But I really wanted to get a job, and thanks to my mother, after she talked to the bartender, he had finally agreed but told my mother and I, like a thousand times, that I cannot sell drinks or cigarettes. Actually, I only work for few hours before it gets too late in the evening, so I can just go to the stores nearby. Since this was my first day at work, instead of wasting my time and joking around, I decided to go to the bar straight away and see if there was anything I could do to help.

[Stan]

“Are you baking cupcakes . . . oh, Mom, please don’t tell me you forget to put the sugar in.”
My mother gives me a sorry smile, and nods slowly. “I guess I really did forget to put in some sugar.”

I had to laugh when I read this. Once I made cookies that did not come out right. I finally realized that I had used powdered sugar instead of flour.

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

:-)

[C.C. Covington]

Your story is riveting and I found it hard to leave my seat when I was reading. Sorry it took me so long to finish. There were some mistakes, as can be expected from a first draft, but I wouldn't worry about all that until after the whole story is finished and you have a full manuscript. After all, the real writing lies in the editing part. The characters need more development, and as for all the backstory . . . well, quoting from The Nighttime Novelist, if I remember right, leave the backstory in the back. Its better to just get on with the story and reveal little bits of the character's background here and there so that it doesn't take up space. But again, focus on finishing. You can always go back and edit once you've finally got all the story out of your head. Good luck. Thanks for sharing.

[AleyshaRosa]

It was well done =]
A bit of critique would be similar to Stan's, however I find the read is more interesting in reading something with a well developed character. Sometimes it's best to introduce the background of her life gradually, throughout, perhaps through a visual. Sometimes it can feel a little bit like an essay, or documentary.
But either than that, as I said, very well done =]
Koodoos

On I read.

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

Thank you :-) Hope you like the other chapters and characters!

[Stan]

"Richard Jaxxe’s music is playing in the background. I sing along to his song “Burn The Place Down”. He is my favorite singer of all time, and I have always wanted to go to his concerts. He sings rock music, but those lyrics he has written are without bad words, nor is there dirty stuff. That is why I like him. Unlike most rock stars, he doesn't sleep with a bunch of girls, and he is always being nice and polite to people. This is a truth that everyone knows."
There are a couple of extra words in this paragraph, but my main concern is with the word "wanted." This word does not fit the tense. Try "like."

"He is my favorite singer of all time, and I always like to go to his concerts."
Or do you mean you wanted to attend one of his concerts, but never had the opportunity?
"He is my favorite singer of all time, and I always wanted to go to his concerts.

Instead of "those," try "the".
"He sings rock music, but the lyrics he has written are without bad words, nor is there dirty stuff."

"Being is extra and consider removing "that."
"Unlike most rock stars, he doesn't sleep with a bunch of girls, and he is always nice and polite to people. This is a truth everyone knows."

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

Thanks! :-)

[Stan]

Writers tend to use too many words. I know I do. When I edit, I'm always deleting words that aren't necessary. Often the extra words cause problems with our tenses. Look at this sentence.
"I live with my mother. My father had left us when I was born. My mother is a happy person even though she has so many responsibilities and needs to take care of me by herself."
Now look and read it out loud this way.
"I live with my mother. My father left us when I was born. My mother is a happy person even though she has many responsibilities and needs to take care of me by herself."
There are only two less words in the second one. Instead of deleting "so" you could substitute "too".

The rest of the paragraph flows nicely.
"She is an Asian-American(,) and her family is originally from Taiwan. She has a long and beautiful black eyes that I really want. My eyes are brown. But I've got something from her, too. My hair, that is, the smooth, beautiful black hair.
She is an Asian-American and her family is originally from Taiwan. She has a long and beautiful black eyes that I really want. My eyes are brown. But I've got something from her, too. My hair, that is, the smooth, beautiful black hair."
I'm watching the news now, so I'll read more later.

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

Thank you, sir. :-)

[Amanda]

Sounds good, I can't wait to read the next few chapters :)

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

Thank you >_____O I am working on Chapter Eight now . . . I will be long ha ha XD

[Kelly M.]

This is very fascinating-- it was a little different (or perhaps I mean a little too fast?) at the beginning. It's always important to start out a book with something that captures the attention of the readers. :) So, perhaps something more imaginary or exciting to begin it instead of the first line being, "I live with my mother." You can always fiddle around with things like that though. :) Anyway, I did like it! The descriptions were clear and vivid which was very good. I especially liked "turned as red as an apple" and how you described that Vivian sang, "I saw everything!" It made me feel like I was really there and could hear her sing-songy voice haha. :) As for the stranger meeting, that added a mysterious note. I was a little confused when he said he'd come there more often because of her-- he is a lot older it seems. It'll be interesting to see how this plays out. :D

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

Ha ha thank you for your advice! I hope I can see more of your review~~~ _____O

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

But some said that it is moving way too slow, ha ha. :-P

[Kelly M.]

Well, we'll have to wait and see! The beginning just needed a little spark. :) I'm sorry, too fast wasn't the right wording at all haha. :P

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

:-)

[James William Dyer]

I wouldn't worry about grammatical problems.

[Singer-Songwriter - Miya]

Ha ha thank you!