Do you think i’m an ok writer?
I don’t plan on being that good of a writer, but i was just wondering if you think if my book beginning was a good. i’m 12 years old and love to write. next year i’m going in seventh grade. Feel free to write some suggestions and go to this website to read more. Thanks!
The sun shone through the closed curtains of my new bedroom. How could so much change in one week?
What felt like forever was now just the beginning of my new life. It had all started when my Mom, Stephanie, fell down with cancer. My Stepfather had kept telling me everything was going to be all right, but even my Mom wasn’t afraid to tell me that it wasn’t.
Just yesterday I was wearing a black dress, and crying; ruining my mascara as it ran down my cheeks. It had gotten my face all pudgy and big.
Now I was stuck here with my real father who I hadn’t met until my Mother’s funeral had started.
His name was Max. He was quite handsome and was only in his thirties. To my mom he was just the man who had gotten her pregnant at seventeen.
That’s what I wanted to think of him as, but he wasn’t that man anymore. It was a different feeling than what I had felt when I heard about the stories my mom had told me about him.
He might not be dad now, but he could be my friend sometime. Max wasn’t that bad after all.
The first time that we looked at each other, our jaws dropped, from how close the resemblances were. He had short dark brown hair, which was the color of milk chocolate. My hair was almost the same color, but just a tint lighter from my mom’s blond hair. His blue eyes twinkled, from the happiness in his eyes. Just like mine did. Except for not right now. Max had the same dimple in his chin. The one where when you smiled you could see it right away. It was like his signature for his face.
That thought made me laugh. I touched my chin where my dimple showed. But mine was deeper written in my face.
I rubbed my eyes and got up from the double bed. I could smell fried eggs and bacon being made downstairs while someone hummed with joy. Max was a professional chef, unlike my mom. My mom couldn’t make cereal. I remember always having to make everything for dinner and holidays. It would be a change having a break for once.
I went to the over sized closet doors and opened the French closet doors.
I gasped from what I saw. The closet was at least ten yards long and the width was not even imaginable. Row after row was the most fancy clothes that you could think of. Wow, I guess Max wanted me to feel welcome.
I went to the rail that was closest and grabbed a pair of jeans. I tried to remember this rail would come in handy for school. The new school was going to be hard to get used to. I never fit into anywhere. My mom had tried so much for me to make friends, but it was just not possible.
I walked down to the far sidewall and looked at every shirt. I picked out one with a v-shaped neckline that was a light gray and with lace at the bottom. Looks like Max had some average clothes too, incase I wasn’t like other girls. I would have to remind myself to thank him later.
I heard footsteps and a light knock on the door.
“ May I come in?”
“ Um, sure,” The door opened and Max smiled, seeing that I had found my way into the big closet.
“ Hey I thought you might want some breakfast before you go to school. You hungry?” Just then my stomach growled and Max smiled even more.
“ I guess I wouldn’t mind some breakfast,”
We walked down to the kitchen together and I took a seat on a stool. The smell of breakfast was overwhelming. Max put a plate full of strawberries, eggs, toast, and bacon in front of me. He started humming and moving around the kitchen.
I couldn’t help, but to smile at him. “What?” He asked with a wide grin across his face.
“Nothing. I’m just not used to being with you, that’s all.” He came to my side and put his right arm over my shoulders.
“ Well, Truce you better get used to this, because this is who I am,” He paused and turned to put his lips right next to my ear, “I’m not used to having a girl in the house so you got to be patient with me,” It was a very soft whisper.
I knew that this would be so easy to get used to. Why did my mom just let him go like this? This was my father and I knew that there would come a day when I really could call him Dad.
Max got up and paced to the counter and opened up a cupboard. On the top shelf was a crinkled brown envelope. He took it in his hands and went back to where I was sitting. He handed the envelope and I just stared at his face.
“What’s this?” I was stunned by the look that Max wore on his face. It was puzzled and just as bit curious as I was. It showed me that he had no clue what that envelope contained.
“I don’t know. Your Mother sent it to me, knowing that you would come and live with me, but I never opened it. I wanted to wait until you were actually here.” I looked down at the enve
REALLY GOOD! It makes me want to keep reading! It’s amazing! Please send me the rest so I can read it! BTW, I am also going to 7th grade and I’m 12 and I love to write! I’ll send you some of my stuff too!
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