So in order to motivate myself to actually write this, I'm posting the first draft of the first three chapters. Tell me how you feel about it!
Welcome to the Masquerade, where not everyone makes it out alive.
~~~
Chapter 1,
I'm not very good at beginnings, Kierra mused as she scrubbed at a particularly annoying stain on the table. Her English paper was due soon (yesterday) and she had yet to come up with a thesis statement.
"Kierra!" Ray yelled from her seat on a red plastic barstool by the counter. Kierra looked up, her brown braid falling over her shoulder. She grabbed the last of the plates off the table and called back, "Coming!"
The old fashioned diner with the bright lights and checkerboard floor had closed up half an hour ago, and Kierra was helping her manager and friend clean up. She skated over to Ray, putting the plates on the bar counter and leaning against the granite.
Ray grinned at her, blue eyes bright, and she pushed a strand of her blonde bob behind her ear. "They're announcing the winners for the Masquerade lottery tonight." She said nonchalantly.
Kierra rolled her eyes and leaned down to untie her skates. "That thing's a load of crap. Everyone knows it's rigged."
"Didn't stop you from signing up." Ray shrugged and Kierra ignored her in favor of staring at the small TV hanging up in the corner, Nelson's Nightly News about to start.
"I filled your name in for me." Ray whispered with a smile.
Kierra fought down a grin. "Thanks. Two in a million shot."
"Kierra..." Ray sighed.
"What? That's the population of New America."
"It is not! It's one hundred thousand and you know it!"
"Tiny country." Kierra considered. "But I guess when you factor in all the people that wouldn't risk it or don't qualify, it's more like two in seventy five thousand. But that just doesn't have the same ring to it."
"I read somewhere that only about twenty thousand signed up." Ray nudged her shoulder. "And when you factor in some math, you have about a one in ten thousand chance. Better than two in a million, at least."
Kierra sighed. "I won't make it and you know it."
"You're so pessimistic."
"I'm a realist." She corrected.
"Realist is an optimist's word for pessimist."
"Hey, look, optimism!"
"You're impossible!" Ray cried.
Kierra smirked and wiggled her sock-clad toes, free of the tight skates. A thought crossed her mind. "Why would only twenty thousand sign up?"
Ray shrugged and a hint of her Cali accent came out. "There's rumors it's going to be more dangerous than usual this year. A lot of folks wouldn't risk it."
Kierra rolled her eyes again and nudged her shoulder. Ray was a good friend, and a good person. When Kierra's parents had died in a car accident, she'd offered part of her apartment and a job until Kierra got herself together and got her own place.
Then Nelson's Nightly News turned on, the first story about a young girl who'd taken in a bear cub as a pet, and all of Kierra's nerves went on fire thinking about the Masquerade.
The Masquerade. Probably the single most important and deadliest event of the whole year. A massive ball that lasted one week, from the third Wednesday in April to the next Wednesday. Where anyone who was anyone came to spend a whole week with not a single rule or law.
