My Writing

Sam

This is the beginning of something…I’m not sure what. There might be some mystical reason her hair is white, like she’s a faerie changeling…or not. I’ve been trying to write more YA, and do more third-person POV, since I lean towards first, so…something different.

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Sam Mayhorn was the only person at school with white hair.

It was also falling out.

And she was pretty sure she was the only fifteen-year-old whose mother talked about faeries as if they were real – on a daily basis.

“Today I saw a bluebell-capped one behind the well, dear! Can you believe it? It had golden hair and smiled at me when I was putting the weeds into the wheel barrow. Isn’t that nice? I didn’t know faeries shared my hatred of weeds.”

Sam didn’t know whether to laugh or cry about it, really. She settled for kicking the counter at the pharmacy where she sat, waiting for “the new pill” which the doctor had said “should help the hair loss, but not the color, I’m sorry.”

Doctors. They always said they were sorry, but she could tell by their facial expressions that they didn’t really care. They were too busy worrying about their daughters having sex in college, or the coffee that was being made in the break room, or the lobster they would eat for dinner with their model wives, off of her mom’s hard-earned farmer’s market money.

Life wasn’t fair, and that was that.

“Will you quit it already? Jesus, you’re driving me crazy. I’m almost done back here.”

Sam realized she had been kicking the counter over and over, and stopped. Had those words been for her? She looked up.

The only person near was a tall pharmacy assistant. There wasn’t anyone behind him, so he must have been talking to her. He was carefully counting pills from a bag into a little jar. They looked like they could be her pills. She sat up to see if she could read the tiny word on the pills. Then she stopped, and abruptly sat back down. Hopefully the tall counter hid her red face from view.

The guy was gorgeous.

            Like, yank-your-heart-out-and-hand-it-to-him gorgeous. He was yummier than the male models in magazines or the lead singer of the newest rock band. They were just pictures, fantasies, stupid. This guy was right in front of her.

He was tall, with long blonde hair spilling over the collar of his white coat to fan across broad shoulders. His eyes, behind his glasses, were sea-green with little brown-gold speckles. A few freckles sprinkled his nose, and he had a mole over the right side of his mouth. His mouth was perfectly rose pink and full and it looked very soft…

Sam blushed more and looked away to hide it. There was no way a guy that good-looking would go for her. She knew she had spindly legs and wrists, small breasts, and short hair. Guys never liked short hair, not crazy, boyish bobs that crackled when you lifted your head off the pillow each morning. Not white hair. Not sad, blue eyes with dark circles under them. Nor would any guy date a girl who was throwing up all the time, and didn’t even have the strength to run the mile for P.E.

Plus, she could die any second.

She looked back at the guy and noticed his slender hands. His crooked tie featured little colorful cartoon guitars, and he had black cross earrings in both ears.

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