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When Characters do as they Please

A while ago I wrote a short story (YA): “Samuel & Alexandra”, a story of how love sometimes comes to us when we least expect it. I spent quite some time on it, writing about one page per day and skipping between the characters; one part from her, and the next from his point of view and so on. Hers I wrote as a first person narrative, his as a third person. I don’t know why I did this, maybe because I could relate to being a teen girl, but not a teen boy. I tried writing him as “I”, but the words wouldn’t come to me and I had to change back to “he” (this happens to me all the time; my male characters just won’t let me get inside their heads! Stubborn men.).

They gave me more trouble than that, about three days they spent sitting in his car and not getting on with the story! I mean, come on! They could just have told me what they wanted instead of just sitting there waiting for me to get the story going again, right? Finally I asked two of my friends what they thought, their suggestions helped me get the story going again and made me able to finish it. I had at first planned it to be longer, but the end came and I felt it unnecessary to force it beyond the path it had taken.

It’s the same thing with my YA-novel, the one I’m constantly working on (please let me find the time to finish it this year!). After not having written a single word in quite some time I find myself writing and rewriting the story in my head. Just need to give myself the time to sit down with my laptop and get the words down. I thought myself done with the beginning, but now I find that I have a much better way of presenting the story. This is great, because now my main character, instead of just telling you, shows you what happens first day of school. Also, it makes for better reading.

I’ve translated the first part of “Samuel & Alexandra” to English and should you like it I’ll translate the rest and share the love (story) with you guys. I tried taking the short road through Google Translate, but we all know how utterly wrong things get when run through there. I know, I know!!! Serves me right for “cheating”, but sometimes I let my blonde self do as she pleases. There are times she’s not that far off, other times I feel like smacking her across the face (but that would only hurt, so I don’t).

Anyway, after some serious editing I finally got the language presentable.

Enjoy!

“The old copier for student’s use is squeezed into a small room outside the library, it sighs and squeals to finish the page from the biology book I want copied. It's a bit blurry in one corner but I can’t stand here another 10 minutes fixing something that probably won’t get much better. I hear someone walking in the corridor outside and then stop behind me.

"What the hell is this?" Samuel's angry voice makes me turn around. He’s standing in the doorway, holding out a pink piece of paper. Slightly irritated, I look him straight in the eye and raise an eyebrow, who does he think he is? My eyes move from his angry face to the piece of paper he’s holding in his hand, I know straight away what it is.

"A poster of course, MY poster actually. Why did you take it down?" I step up and snatch it from his hand. Anger starts to boil inside me when I see just how scrunched up it is.

"You can’t say I'm lying?" He points to the now very crumpled poster, as I vainly try to smooth it out. Each copy costs almost a dollar and I can’t have Samuel Thomas go around pulling them down.

"I’ve never said that you're lying, you're over-interpreting my message ..." My disdainful glance takes in the way he slowly fists his hands and then opens them again. "The only thing I say is that some candidates may have something to hide. But that shouldn’t bother you now, should it?" I put my hands on my hips and give him a bitchy smile. A muffled growl erupts from somewhere deep inside him and he takes one step forward and looks me straight in the eye.

"Don’t think that I don’t know what you're doing?" His finger hovers a few inches from my chest and I look down at it, feeling quite surprised. "You know I'm the only one who has a chance to challenge you. Little Miss Perfect and Popular." His mouth twists in disgust at his last words.

Inside me a whole range of emotions well up, but most of all I'm a little surprised at how much his words actually hurt me. I’m the first to admit that I'm popular and I think that I'm as perfect as you can be, but when he says it like that it really hurts. Instead of letting him see how his words affect me I hold his gaze.

"Honestly, you think you have a chance against me?" I laugh. "There’s hardly anyone at school who would vote for the greatest looser to walk this earth! How many times have you repeated? Two times? Three?" My smile is frosty and I tilt my head slightly to one side, my eyes as icy. "But don’t worry; you'll probably get out of here before you’re 30."

His dark green eyes seem to be shooting lightning bolts and I think I hear another muffled growl; the corner of his mouth twitches in anger. For some reason I can explain I let my eyes roam his face, hard and sharp and full of anger. When I again look into his eyes I think I see something more than just barely controlled rage.

It's hard to put my finger on, maybe something like vulnerability, or is it an unasked question; I look into his eyes for answers. All of a sudden my anger disappears, I can’t take my eyes of him and a wish flickers through my mind: Kiss me!

Samuel opens his mouth to say something, but instead he leans a little closer, I see uncertainty in his eyes. His scent, almost like sawdust, mixes with mine, lily of the valley. My body tries to convince me that it would be quite natural to lean forward the last few centimetres, meeting his lips and letting him embrace me.

The copier suddenly coughs and we jump back. I can’t look him in the eye, my face feels hot and I wonder what that strange longing was that surged through me. In the corner of my eye I see how he looks at me, he says nothing but runs his hand through his pitch black hair before he turns and disappears out of the small room. I look down at my poster, slowly I crumple it up into a small ball and before I leave, I throw it in the trashcan in the corner.

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