Write in public
Cover artwork in progress
A note before you read: I’m working on a story. Below are the first few paragraphs of the opening. You’ll see ‘version 1’ and the updated ‘version 2.’ This is still early in the process.
I’m teasing out portions of it to get initial feedback. Feel free to send me a message if you have any feedback.
Opening: Version 2
Monroe, April 28, 2002
Henry dreamed of being extraordinary, but in reality, he felt completely ordinary. Within the first few minutes of class, his mind had drifted beyond the walls of the classroom through the open window. The national comic book convention was coming to town in a month, and it was certain to be the highlight of his summer.
At the front of the classroom, Mr. McConnell droned on about math formulas. The subject wasn’t Henry’s strong suit. It never had been. The subject had become even harder after his dad passed away three years earlier. Their regular study sessions had been Henry’s saving grace until junior high.
It didn’t take much for Henry to be distracted in math class. Today was no exception. His mind was caught up in the memories waiting to be made that summer.
Suddenly, something brought his attention back to the classroom. A sneeze? He turned around. Katie Fleming was trying to wipe her nose as if she hoped no one would notice. Her eyes were puffy, and the corner of her desk was covered with crumpled balls of used tissue. Then a second sneeze.
She raised her crumpled tissue to wipe her nose again. As she did, Henry caught her eye. Her nose was red, her eyes watery, but to Henry, she had never looked more beautiful. She gave him a half-curled smile, and his heart pounded in his chest.
For the past three years, Henry had wanted to know her more than the girl who sat behind him in math class—or rather, he wanted her to know him as more than the classmate who sat in front of her. He knew more about her than he would ever admit. She lived two streets away in a white house with a blue mailbox. She walked her King Charles Spaniel every Saturday morning. She had moved to Monroe in seventh grade when her dad took a professorship at the college. He knew her favorite color was red and she loved tulips.
His mind drifted back to last year, a moment that had solidified his feelings for her.
FLASHBACK: WORKING ON THE SCHOOL PROJECT
It was during English class when Mrs. Thompson had assigned a group project. “Katie and Henry,” she had announced. Henry had been both thrilled and terrified. He had admired Katie from afar ever since she moved to their town in the seventh grade.
They had been tasked with a report on someone they knew. Katie had suggested her grandfather, a man who had emigrated from Sweden and lived an adventurous life. “He’s got the best stories,” she had said excitedly.
Henry had nodded, too nervous to suggest anything else. Their first meeting had been at the library, sitting across from each other at a wooden table. Katie had taken charge, scribbling notes and brainstorming ideas while Henry watched, captivated by her energy.
“I’ve always seen you around,” she had said, breaking the ice. “But we’ve never really talked.”
Henry had shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I guess I just keep to myself.”
“Well, you don’t have to be quiet around me,” she had replied, her smile disarming. “I’m really easy to talk to.”
And she was. Over the next few weeks, they spent hours working together. Katie had called her grandfather on speakerphone, and they had laughed as he recounted his adventures in broken English, filling in the blanks for their report. Henry had felt more at ease than he ever expected.
One afternoon, as sunlight streamed through the library window, Katie had leaned over the table, her arm brushing his. “You’re smarter than you let on, you know,” she had said, surprising him. “You’ve got good ideas.”
Henry’s cheeks had flushed. “Thanks,” he had muttered, his heart racing.
BACK TO PRESENT
The sound of another sneeze brought Henry back to reality. He glanced back at Katie, wishing he could say something but knowing he never would.
The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Henry collected his books, but as he stood, the room spun. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, and he sneezed — a sharp, jarring sound that left his nose bleeding.
“Bless you!” came Ronnie’s voice behind him. Henry felt a hand on his shoulder. “I hope you don’t infect my house with that. You okay?”
[…]
Opening: Version 1
Monroe, April 28, 2002
Henry fantasized of being extraordinary, but he felt completely ordinary. Since the first few minutes of class had begun, his mind had drifted beyond the walls of the classroom through the open window. The national comic book convention was coming to town in a month and it was certain to be the highlight of his summer.
At the front of the class room, Mr. McConnell was droning on about math formulas. The subject wasn’t Henry’s strong suit. It never had been. It had become even harder after his dad passed away three years earlier. Their regular study sessions had been Henry’s saving grace until junior high.
His mind was caught up in the memories waiting to be made that summer.
Suddenly something brought his attention back to the classroom. A sneeze? He turned around. Katie Fleming was trying to wipe her nose as if she hoped no one would notice. Her eyes were puffy. And the corner of her desk was covered with crumpled balls of used tissue. A second sneeze. She raised her crumpled tissue to wipe her nose once more. As she did, Henry caught her eye. Her nose was red. Her eyes were watery, but to Henry, she had never looked more beautiful. He could tell she felt miserable, but Henry’s heart pounded in his chest as she gave him a half-curled smile.
For the past three years, Henry had wanted to know her more than the girl who sat behind him in math class. Or rather, he wanted her to know him as more than the classmate who sat in front of her. He knew more about her than he would ever admit. He knew she lived two streets away from him in a white house with a white picket fence and a blue mailbox. She had a King Charles Spaniel she walked every Saturday morning. She moved to Monroe in the seventh grade because her dad had taken a professorship at the college teaching history. He knew her favorite color was red and she loved tulips.
His mind drifted back to last year, a moment that had solidified his feelings for her. It was during English class when Mrs. Thompson had assigned a group project. “Katie and Henry,” she had announced. Henry had been both thrilled and terrified. He had admired Katie from afar ever since she moved to their town in the seventh grade. She was the pretty new girl with the warm smile.
They had ended up working together at a small table near the window, the sunlight filtering through her hair as she talked animatedly about their project. Henry had always been quiet, content to let others do the talking, but something about Katie made him want to open up. She was kind, patient, and genuinely interested in what he had to say.
“You’re really quiet, you know that?” she had said with a teasing smile, breaking the ice. “I’ve always seen you around, but I don’t think we’ve ever really talked.”
Henry shrugged, trying to play it cool despite his racing heart. “I guess I just keep to myself.”
She nodded, understanding. “That’s cool. But you don’t have to be quiet around me. I’m really easy to talk to.”
And she was. They had spent the next few weeks working on their project together, and Henry had found himself looking forward to each session. They had talked about everything from school to their favorite books, and by the end of it, he felt like he had known her for years. It was then he realized that he didn’t just admire Katie—he really, truly liked her.
Henry’s mind came back to the present. Katie sneezed again. It was the quietest sneeze he had ever heard. The thought crossed his mind how he hated to see her like that. But it was interrupted by the sound of the bell ringing just outside the classroom. He looked up to see that it was three o'clock and the eighth period was over. As he collected his books the room seemed to grow increasingly warm. As he stood up, the room spun and beads of sweat formed across his brow. He set his books back down to catch hiis footing and then he sneezed. As he wiped his nose, he noticed a drop of blood on his finger.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Bless you!” came the voice from behind. It was Ronnie. “I hope you don’t infect my house with that,” gesturing to his now running nose. “You feelin’ okay?”
“I think it’s just allergies. I’ll be okay.”