American Girl

Maine

"It was a dark and stormy night," Maeve Pelletier muttered in frustration. She slumped in the uncomfortable plastic library chair and fixed her gaze on the computer screen. Her mind was devoid of inspiration. "I can't do this, Addison. Why did I sign up for this club?"

"You love to write, Maeve," Addy reminded her, leaning in to read over her girlfriend's shoulder.

"Romance," Maeve returned, folding her arms tightly. "Mr. Matthews assigned a horror story. What do I know about horror stories?"

"It was a dark and stormy night," Addison repeated the story's first line. "Isn't that a bit cliché? Don't they all start with that line?"

Maeve snapped off the library computer and sulked. All her life, she wanted to write stories. When she was young, she read all the books she could. She studied the words and punctuation until she knew them by heart. In sixth grade, she began keeping a journal. In it, she wrote romance stories. All her friends read them and thought they were good.

That semester, Mr. Matthews, her English teacher, started a writer's club. Maeve was one of the first to join. She thought it would help her sharpen her skills. So far, the assignments were easy. Then, they began discussing different genres. Mr. Matthews wanted the group to widen their experience. It took Maeve aback when he suggested they write a horror story.

"Couldn't you write a romance with a horror twist?" Addison suggested, hopefully.

"I supposed. I can do the romance part easily, but what about the horror?" Maeve moaned. "I don't know. I might as well quit. I'm not getting anywhere anyway."

Maeve slumped her shoulders and gathered her books. The school library was about to close for the day. It remained open for two hours after school ended. Mrs. Thibedeau began walking amongst the tables, warning students of the imminent closing time. Maeve headed toward the door before the librarian reached her.

Hugging her books, Maeve marched along the sidewalk toward her father's pharmacy. Addison remained close on her heels. The girls turned into an alley and stood beneath the outside stairs. Maeve kissed her friend beneath the wooden structure. She hadn't revealed her secret to her parents yet. She didn't know how they would react to her news.

"See you tomorrow," Addison said, squeezing her companion's hand. "And don't worry. You'll think of something. You always do."

"Sure," Maeve answered, not at all sure. She hurried up the stairs and into the second-floor apartment. Her mother called a greeting from the kitchen, but she ignored her. Instead, she rushed into her room and flung herself onto the bed.

"I saw you kissing Addy," River Pelletier stated from the doorway. "I might tell Mommy if you don't give me one of your Ring Dings."

"Get outta here, River," Maeve yelled at her little brother.

"Give me a Ring Ding," he ordered confidently.

"No."

"I'll get it myself." The ten-year-old walked toward the dresser and opened the second drawer. He withdrew a Drake's Cakes box and helped himself to two packages. "One for getting out and one for not telling about Addison."

"I told you to get out." Slipping out of her shoes, she threw one at River's head. It hit the door when he slammed it behind him.

"UGH!" Maeve complained, burying her head in the pillow.

When her mother called them to dinner, Maeve joined her family. She played with her food but barely ate anything. Her horror story weighed heavily on her mind, and several scenarios had already hit her mental reject pile. She had never experienced such a vast blank for ideas. Finally, she excused herself and returned to her room.