Possibilities

Chapter One Pt. 2

Part two! Once again, constructive criticism is accepted. Let me know if there's any problems with grammar. I'm a perfectionist, so don't be afraid to steer me in the right direction.

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My first thought of the Carson house--labeled as such by the red mailbox at the beginning of the driveway--is "huge", due to the three-story beast of a log cabin in front of me. My second thought is "Holy God", as the putrid smell of manure hits me like a brick wall as I open my car door. My third thought is "What the hell?" when a mass of blonde hair and skinny limbs rams into me so hard I teeter backwards. Then it starts speaking.

"Hi, I'm Paisley. I'm fourteen years old. How old are you? You look like you're fourteen, too. Well, that's cool! Do you like swimmin'? There's a lake a few hundred yards back that all the kids swim in. Maybe, once you're all settled in, I could show you it. It's pretty nice when it's nice 'n hot out-"

"Paisley," calls a voice from the front door," What did I tell you about harassin' this young man?"

"Sorry, Momma," the hair-arms-voice says. It steps back and I realize it's a girl. I mean, I could tell it was a girl from the voice and the name of course, but now I get a good look at her.

She's a little shorter than me, maybe about five four or five three, with layered dirty blonde hair that is just past her shoulders. Her eyes seem very dark as they stand out even against her tan skin. But that's obviously from all the mascara and eyeliner. Her eyes are blue, almost electric, around the edges of the irises and fading to a pale blue around the pupils. The odd streaks of grey that shoot through all the shades of blue are almost amusing, like they are the exact opposite of the large hyper streak I have just encountered.

She has high cheekbones and quite-a-bit-darker-than-her-hair blonde eyebrows around these eyes that accents them well.

Her lips aren't painted bright red or even striking really, just simple, slightly thin and glossy. A pale pink lip gloss. Maybe it was one of those meant for young girls but she never grew out of it, coinciding with the child-like eagerness.

If anyone were to ask me, I would deny even thinking this, but she's kind of pretty. However there is plenty of makeup there too, just like the rest of her features. Girls wearing too much makeup never really struck me. I had always thought they wore all of that on their faces to cover up the true beauty inside.

But with her, why so much makeup? Did she really feel the need to hide beneath it? Could a girl like that crazy really be self conscious?

Then again, why was I even thinking about that? Who cares how much makeup she wore? I mean, oh, my God she just attacked me! Like seriously- what the heck?

The woman on the porch, who I infer is Clara Carson, walks down the steps and to my mother, giving her a hug.

"Beth! I'm so glad to see you!" she says.

She's wearing bib overalls and brown cowboy boots. Her long, sun-bleached blonde hair is drawn back into a ponytail low on her head. Her facial features almost mirror her daughter's; same shocking blue eyes, same high cheekbones, same high-energy vibe -- although way more undertone than her daughter, but I notice she's wearing next to no makeup. It's quite the contrast.

"And this must be Benjamin." She offers her hand. I take it and shake her hand like my dad taught me; strong, firm, and confident. Now I'm thinking of Dad. I need to stop. Now.

I silently thank the Man Upstairs when Mom practically throws my suitcase into my arms, conveniently cutting off the stinging sensation of tears in my eyes. Clara invites us in and I follow the girl, Paisley, into my personal prison for the summer.

...

So here's part 2! Hope you liked it! Please comment and vote!

Some questions for you:

•Why do you think Mr. Carson left?

•What do you think of Paisley? Mrs. Carson?

•What do you think happened to Ben's dad?

Love you all so so so very much! Kisses, kisses, kisses.

-Jo💋