Title: Little Miss BlogAlot
Word Count: 36,000
Song: Secrets - by One Republic
Pitch: When thirteen-year-old Ami Sanchez’s anonymous tell-all blog gets outed by an act of social-revenge, Ami must decide if online companionship is enough or if she has the courage to fight for IRL friends. #BlogGirlProblems.
250:
Ami felt the hooks of her training bra pop open in mid-stride. Her body went completely stiff, petrified to take another step. The tips of her ears and cheeks burned in color-coordinated mortification. She negotiated an intense prayer, even offering up her precious cell-phone for invisibility, but Ami knew she'd have no such luck.
Getting her period, a new pimple and now a faulty first bra, Ami might as well let a stream of brown toilet paper hang out of her jeans and just call it a day.
Chest-stares zoomed in, as if every kid in the hallway could see the turmoil going on underneath Ami's shimmery white tank top.
She forced herself to move, walking like a challenged robot over to her locker. She practically wore a blinking forehead sign that read: YUP, THAT'S RIGHT, MY MOM MADE ME WEAR A DEFECTIVE BRA!
Why was everyone gawking at her unfortunate hook-incident? It's not like she had boobs or anything. But her mom's argument that one day she would is what forced her to be the Monday Morning Stare Spectacular.
Using her notebook as a booby-shield, Ami forfeited all upcoming thirteenth birthday wishes for just one baggy-anything to be left in her locker.
SOMETHING.
Please, please, please...
"Yes," she whisper-cheered, when she discovered a wrinkled denim shirt crumpled beneath her gym sneakers. Ami scrambled to get her bare arms through the sleeves.
Now she reeked of musty hot locker. AwesomePew.
Ami felt the hooks of her training bra pop open in mid-stride. Her body went completely stiff, petrified to take another step. The tips of her ears and cheeks burned in color-coordinated mortification. She negotiated an intense prayer, even offering up her precious cell-phone for invisibility, but Ami knew she'd have no such luck.
Getting her period, a new pimple and now a faulty first bra, Ami might as well let a stream of brown toilet paper hang out of her jeans and just call it a day.
Chest-stares zoomed in, as if every kid in the hallway could see the turmoil going on underneath Ami's shimmery white tank top.
She forced herself to move, walking like a challenged robot over to her locker. She practically wore a blinking forehead sign that read: YUP, THAT'S RIGHT, MY MOM MADE ME WEAR A DEFECTIVE BRA!
Why was everyone gawking at her unfortunate hook-incident? It's not like she had boobs or anything. But her mom's argument that one day she would is what forced her to be the Monday Morning Stare Spectacular.
Using her notebook as a booby-shield, Ami forfeited all upcoming thirteenth birthday wishes for just one baggy-anything to be left in her locker.
SOMETHING.
Please, please, please...
"Yes," she whisper-cheered, when she discovered a wrinkled denim shirt crumpled beneath her gym sneakers. Ami scrambled to get her bare arms through the sleeves.
Now she reeked of musty hot locker. AwesomePew.
Gold
ReplyDeleteLove this title! SILVER, please.
ReplyDeleteCongrats on the requests! You definitely deserved them. Loved your voice. Bratastrophe for the win! ;)
ReplyDelete