The first day in, and I spent... 80% of my time studying for the SAT.
On one hand, dismal scores (I guarantee you that if I checked them over... twice, instead of stopping as soon as I finished the last question, I would have gotten frabjous scores instead.), on the other hand, dismal word count.
I was aiming for 5,000 words, but the scenes seem to be NOT writing themselves, unlike what I was expecting. Which, obviously, was that they would write themselves. They're not. Happily, however, the first scene of NaNoWriMo went 355 words over the goal. (words in outline times 36, i.e. 1044).
It's about the DATE... and Robert is rather strange to Kathy. (the next scene, though, seems to me even worse. XD)
Here's a sneak peek:
Robert showed up at the door that day in his characteristic suit and tie. He was punctual, as usual, and even Lucinda had to smile, albeit grimly, at the nervousness on his face.
"Hmmph." Lucinda said. "You’d think you were proposing to her TODAY, instead of having done it two years ago."
Robert hadn’t a chance to answer before Lucinda turned away from him to call Kathy. Sighing, Robert let himself in as Lucinda shouted up the stairs.
"KATHERINE! Your fiancé is here!"
It was only a moment before Kathy swooped down the velvet-covered stairs with a wide smile, and Robert caught his breath as he surveyed the vision she presented.
Shining dark brown eyes, auburn hair twisted into a bun, diamonds he’d bought for her… one day when they were simply walking and enjoying life… holding hands. It made what he had to do that much worse. Her dress seemed to sparkle, and as she drew closer he realized that it had sequins embroidered on it, the dark green material winking at him as if it knew…
But Robert shook his head to clear it and cleared his throat as Kathy reached the landing.
"You look beautiful." He said as he took her hand in his.
Kathy smiled brightly. "Really? I thought the sequins kind of… off-put it. Don’t you think so, Luce?" she asked, preening herself in the mirror. "My hair never STAYS." She said as a tendril fell from the bun. "Isn’t it terrible?"
"We’re going to be late, Kat." Robert said, looking nervously at his watch.
"Hmmph!" Lucinda said, turning and marching into the kitchen, where she commenced knitting furiously. "You enjoy yourselves!" she shouted from the kitchen, though her tone conveyed exactly what she thought of the business: a load of nonsense.
Kathy chatted about her plan for creating a forcefield around the earth as they entered the car. "You see, Rob, if I trap the carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide within a highly dense force field, there really should be no problem with overwarming the Earth in… well I haven’t done the math for THAT yet, but think about it."
Robert nodded distractedly, and Kathy noticed because instead of offering advice— he was usually so good at that— he didn’t seem to be paying attention at all!
"Are you alright?" she asked.
Robert glanced at her as he pulled out of the parking lot. "Of course I am." He said automatically. "I’m absolutely fine."
Kathy rolled her eyes and stared out the window for the rest of the journey, wondering what in the world was wrong with him. Usually they talked and laughed… but today, it was as if something had gone wrong.
"Is there something wrong with one of your assignments?" Kathy asked as Robert stopped the car and tossed the keys to the valet of The Villain, the local villainous restaurant. Robert started— how had she known? And then quickly realized that he shouldn’t. He calmed down almost immediately, but Kathy had realized something, and her eyes narrowed.
"What? No, no, everything’s just fine."
"Have you GOT an assignment?"
"Yes. Er… highly confidential." Robert said, nodding to one of the greenclad doormen. The doorman nodded back and said "Welcome back, Mr. Gr—" Robert pierced him with a gaze as the other, older doorman said hastily. "We hope you’ll enjoy the special tonight." He said, opening the door.
"Thank you." Robert said, handing a small bill to the second doorman.
Robert chanced a glance at Kathy as the entered the dining room. She didn’t seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary, but then again, she was preoccupied with that PLAN of hers… a really brilliant plan— he almost wished he’d thought of it himself.
"We’re here, Kat." He whispered— she’d almost walked right past the table.
"I knew that." She snapped, then shot him a quick smile as she sat down in the chair he’d pulled out.
"Did you know, Rob, that the caterer wants DOUBLE the money? I told him a flat-out ‘no’. If he wanted double the money, I told him, I wanted double the food— we’ll just have to invite double the people. Don’t you think so?"
The waiter came and asked for their orders.
"Er…" Robert said, trying desperately to find something to say.
"He’ll have the chicken parmasiano," Kathy said quickly, "and I’ll have… the…" she skimmed the menu quickly. "Special."
"It has meat in it, Miss."
"Nothing, I am merely required to say so." Said the waiter seriously.
"Oh. And… to drink, he’ll have…" she surveyed Robert, realized that he was going to be driving and that he already looked rather woozy, and opened her mouth.
"Ice— ice water." Robert said. "Lots and lots of ice water."
"He'll have the ice water." Kathy said, echoing him, "and I'll have just water— room temperature, please."
When the waiter had left, Kathy stared at him. "What IS wrong with you? Don't tell me it's an assignment— there's something seriously wrong, isn't there? You ALWAYS order the chicken parmasiano."
"Er… w-well, you s-see, Kat, I h-have this problem— and I really d-don't— I really should have written notes for this—"
"Is it about the wedding?"
"K-kind of." Robert said, starting to sweat profusely.
"Really? Because it seems to always be about the wedding. You know what? Let's put the wedding out of our minds and just enjoy the dinner. What's up at work?"
Robert groaned inwardly and tried to deflect the question. "N-not much. Er… tell me about that plan of yours again."
Kathy shot him a look, but she started talking about her plan nonetheless, raising an eyebrow whenever he asked a stupid question, which Robert thought was agonizingly often.
"Robert…" said Kathy after he'd asked another stupid question: ("So… er… what exactly is carbon dioxide?")
"I don't want to say this, but you are obviously suffering for a nervous breakdown. I'LL drive you home and then just WALK." She stood up and called for the waiter.
"Y-you can't do that." Robert said, standing up hurriedly but digging out his wallet just the same.
"Of course I can." Kathy said, leaving as the waiter came up.
"H-here." Robert said, handing the man a hundred dollar bill and chasing after Kathy, who had almost left the restaurant.
He narrowly missed a corpulent, old, diamond-decked lady who aimed and missed at his head with her purse, shot after Kathy, who had now passed the doormen and was waiting for him with an air of extreme impatience. "I need the ticket, Robert." She said.
Robert hastily dug it out of his pocket— one did not argue with Kathy Summers if he wished to keep his body the way it was— and handed it to her silently.
"Here you go." She said, handing it to the valet, who examined it cheerfully and said that the car would be just a minute.
"Now, Rob, you make yourself comfortable and I'll drive you home." She said, removing her high heels and pulling her skirt up so that she could manage the gas pedal.
Robert gave up and leaned back and closed his eyes. It was no use. He'd have to write her a letter.
He nearly crashed through the windshield as Kathy launched out of the restaurant's driveway, but when he shot a shocked glance at her, she was biting her lip and looking carefully at the road.
Deciding against distracting her in case he really DID crash through the windshield, Robert grabbed the handle at the top of the car door and braced himself for any more sudden acceleration.
She parked the car, albeit not too neatly, in his garage, then got out and put on her high heels. "Bye." She said cheerfully as he got up woozily from the car.
"Do you want me to unlock the door for you?" she asked.
"No, no, I'm fine. Are you sure you don't want to take my car?"
"Goodness no, Rob! I'll be fine. It's just a mile."
"You're wearing three inch heels." He pointed out.
"So what? I'll go barefoot. Besides, I need a minute to myself— Lucinda will probably want to know all about tonight." She said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning and walking down the street in those ridiculously long heels.
And here's the weird thing. "I Write Like..." says I write like Stephen King. -_^