Earlier today, I posted this snippet from a YA contemporary I’m currently writing. It’s from a book I really like, but I’m less than 1/4 of the way through a first draft and I still have some pretty big things to figure out plot-wise. Mostly, though, what I love about this book is how my two MCs interact with each other in the beginning. There’s such a great play between their personalities!
The section below is from the first chapter of this book, a book that you’ll hopefully see out in the world one day. If I ever finish it. 😉
“You’re not a thief, are you?”
The smile on my lips is impossible to keep away. I glance over my shoulder to find him standing with his hands in his pockets, watching me carefully. “If I was, would I tell you?”
“No,” he says, his lips curving up into a smile. “You’d probably say something just like that.”
I nod and shrug at the same time before turning and continuing to walk away.
“Where you going, Cat?”
This time I turn around completely. “Cat?” And then it clicks and I grin. “As in burglar? Cute.” I laugh and walk a few more steps—backward this time. “I’m going to finish a project.”
“Thought you were escaping.”
I shrug again, an idea taking hold. I slide one hand into my messenger bag and start digging for my camera. “Turns out I didn’t need to.”
He blinks and looks back up at the building as I find my camera and turn it on. “Really? What did you think you were you escaping from?”
“You.” Wiggling my fingers in a girlish approximation of a wave, I pull the camera out of my bag, let the auto-focus take over, click a quick shot, and turn around. Mostly to make sure I’m not about to trip over a curb and fall into traffic. Getting my head crushed by a cab would not be the way to end my day.
“Hey! Wait, wait, wait.” I hear the quick thuds of Converses hitting concrete as he runs to catch up with me. “What do you mean, me? Do I know you?”
He comes up beside me as I turn east toward the subway stop so I shake my head—I still can’t shake my grin. “Nope. Never seen you before in my life.”
“Yet you felt the need to escape from me?” he asks, one black brow disappearing under the brim of his hat. “And why did you take a picture of me?”
“Well, I wasn’t running from you specifically,” I say, quickening my pace and completely ignoring his second question. “Just the person who lived in the bedroom attached to that particular fire escape.”
He’s silent, but only for about two footsteps. “Thanks. That explanation cleared everything right up.”
“People get touchy when you borrow things without asking.”
“So you are a thief?”
“The fire escape is still attached to your building, isn’t it?” He gives me a funny look, but nods. “Then I’m not a thief.”
“You were borrowing the fire escape?” Two more footsteps of silence. “Why?”
“I told you,” I say as I swing into the subway terminal and slide my metro card. “I have a project to finish.”
“What kind of project involves borrowing a fire escape?” he calls through the gate as I walk down the grimy, graffiti covered staircase.
I laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”