So yeah. I wrote something. It’s unedited. Unformed. But it’s inspired by the sky in the picture. Don’t know why the sky made me think of a boardwalk town, but it did.Â I don’t usually write YA stuff, either, so that was kind of random. But you never know where you brain can take you with the right inspo.
Some folks are writing short stories. I was feeling more like the start of a novel. Rhyme or reason? You got me there. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, as I don’t know whether I will get down the shore this summer?
Feel free to comment and constructively critique. 🙂
Cami laid flat on the splintery park bench, her high, brown ponytail draped over the seat’s end. She inhaled the boardwalk perfume of tar, oily sausage, and fried zeppoles while staring at pinpricks of white bursting through the midnight blue–which pushed the indigo, which in turn squashed a tiny sliver of gentian down below the horizon line, drowning it in the black of the ocean. “Just like the New York tourists,” she thought. “Everyone’s gotta be on top, first in line, best seat on the ride.” She gingerly turned herself sideways, her stomach pressed against the seat back, and peered through the space between the slats. Three shirtless boys with slicked-back hair–they could be her classmates at High School North if they’d been townies–brayed noisily at some unknown hilarity.Â Meanwhile, a man with an ample belly shouted at his little girl, swatting her on the ass while another small boy–her brother perhaps?–wailed, pointing at a cone on the ground. A glance to their right revealed an unnatural blonde stuffed in clingy black shorts and a magenta bikini top, storming in the direction of the custard stand. Cami turned and gazed through metal bars at the beach. A couple rolled in the sand, smothering each other with kisses, first she on top, then he. Edges of beach blanket folded up from the rolling, but the duo remained unaware, lost in their wrestling. Cami’s eyes fixed on them, her breath trapped inside her until she remembered to exhale.
Ben would be working tonight at the arcade near Casino Pier. Her heart rose into her throat every time she thought about him, his strong, tan arms contrasting with soft eyelashes framing warm chocolate eyes. A nearby booth blasted “Don’t You Want Me” by the Human League, and she felt the answer shivering down the back of her neck, her arms, everywhere. But Ben, who’d just graduated with her brother (and best friend) Tim, thought of her as the dreaded little sister. Cami had turned 16 a few weeks ago in late May, but that didn’t matter. As he drove her to Seaside–him for work, her for a prowl since their parents would not let her work on the boardwalk–Tim told her that Ben’s heart had broken when his girlfriend since freshman year dumped him at the prom.Â Soon, he’d be off to college, but until then? Ben wanted nothing to do with high school girls.
Sighing, she sat up. Soon, midnight blue would reign supreme, and only stars, street lamps, and glowing cigarette ends attached to Brooklyn’s finest on holiday would light her way to the first of endless solo laps up and down the boards until Tim finished at midnight. “Well, there’s nothing else to do at home,” she thought. Cami stood up and brushed the splinters off her shorts. Thousands of people, their lives in progress, would surround her. But no one would see her.
Cami remained invisible.