This is looking like the end of my Sunday Snippets participation, at least for now. People are falling by the wayside as life makes other demands of them.
So it goes.
Jennifer M Eaton’s doing a blog hop critique–250 words (plus the end of the last sentence)–you post, critique others from the list, and critique back anyone who gives you a critique.
This is from Changeable, which will be a YA urban fantasy with two narrators. I’m experimenting farther from my comfort zone on this one, so I may fail, but I’m enjoying the effort.
Evelyn’s POV: At the beach, Evelyn is watching two dolphins when her friend Mabel yells that they need to go. Both spot a swimmer headed to shore, and wait. The tide washes seaweed on Evelyn’s bare foot and she does a ‘get-it-off’ dance, which the swimmer makes a snarky comment about. Ev starts to leave, but when he yells ‘Run, that’s what they all do!’ after her, she scolds him for being rude. He reveals that he was one of the dolphins she watched–and one of the Changeable. When Mabel tries to apologize for her friend, he interrupts.
Anthony’s POV: Anthony and his sister Cynthia went swimming that morning, hoping to have the beach to themselves. When he spotted Evelyn watching them, he changed to human and confronted her. Evelyn tries to apologize a few times, following him when he retreats to the ocean, and finally redirects him by asking his name. They introduce themselves, and Cindy comes out to join them. Ev and Mabel leave, and Tony heads to his job waiting tables.
Evelyn: Evelyn and Mabel arrive late at a mother and daughter luncheon, which they were supposed to help set up.
* * * *
“It’s okay, girls,” Mabel’s mom beamed at us, her eyes the same shade of purple-blue, but framed with crinkling smile lines. “Honey, please double-check the silverware. Ev, there’s extra chairs in the back, could you put them against the wall?”
We got to it, and soon enough the guests trickled in. You could bring any daughters twelve or older to the luncheons. A few women, I was pretty sure, brought the daughter they liked best. If I had a sister, I imagine Mother would bring that other, more perfect girl.
Though who knows, my sister could be like me. Baffling, not a polite Indian-American girl. Mother’s parents distanced themselves when she married a black man, and told her that my behavior proved them right—she should have married an Indian boy.
“Evelyn, don’t slump,” Mother hissed at me, and I straightened. She poured us tea while Mabel and her mo, sitting across from us, snuck a napkin-wrapped stack of cookies into Nicki’s purse. Sue and her mom were on my left. Unfortunate.
Some of the other girls acted decent. Some were stiff-backed mommy-clones, hair sprayed into place. Sue, one of those clones, displayed a sugary smile that hid the razor edge of a backhanded compliment.
“Hey, Sue, how’s your week been?” I passed her a plate of cookies.
“Oh, no, I can’t eat those,” she waved away the plate, her rhinestone-decorated manicure catching the light.
“Okay,” I shrugged, passing the plate to my other side. “Mabel and I eat and exercise a bunch. It’s the hummingbird diet. Could you please pass me those sandwiches?”
* * * *
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