Maple Street, with its tree-lined sidewalks, well-maintained cottages and honest-to-god gas lit lampposts almost made me want to puke from its cloying charm. And the white branches courtesy of today’s fresh snow fall made it worse.
Liking the voice here.
Gil tried the front door knob, tried again and then frowned back at me. Broad football shoulders slumping, his breath was visible in cold. “It’s locked.”
“Did you expect us to walk right in?” I arched an eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Much as I hated to admit it, the guy did have a point. You could probably count on one hand the number of houses in town that you wouldn’t be able to open the front door, go right in and make yourself at home. Cedar Knolls from which our esteemed Academy took its name was the kind of quaint western Massachusetts town where everyone knows everyone, being the best good neighbor is a competitive sport, and practically no one locks their doors. Evidently, Jeff was among the few. And it served to make me wonder what else our teacher might be hiding in his small off campus Cape Cod on Maple Street. Jeff had managed to wrangle the posh digs out of the Board of Trustees in exchange for gracing us with his presence. The rest of the senior faculty lived in on-campus apartments. The unfortunate junior teachers had to bunk with us in the dorms, doubling as babysitters.
Gil tried the front door knob, tried again and then frowned back at me. Broad football shoulders slumping, his breath was visible in cold. “It’s locked.”
“Did you expect us to walk right in?” I arched an eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Much as I hated to admit it, the guy did have a point. You could probably count on one hand the number of houses in town that you wouldn’t be able to open the front door, go right in and make yourself at home. Cedar Knolls from which our esteemed Academy took its name was the kind of quaint western Massachusetts town where everyone knows everyone, being the best good neighbor is a competitive sport, and practically no one locks their doors. Evidently, Jeff was among the few. And it served to make me wonder what else our teacher might be hiding in his small off campus Cape Cod on Maple Street. Jeff had managed to wrangle the posh digs out of the Board of Trustees in exchange for gracing us with his presence. The rest of the senior faculty lived in on-campus apartments. The unfortunate junior teachers had to bunk with us in the dorms, doubling as babysitters.
I love the idea of a male protagonist, and I really liked your voice here. I'm intrigued by the question of whether they are there as guests, or if they are breaking into his house. Either way, I'd keep reading.
I liked the voice and would keep reading to find out the circumstances of why they want in, but a few suggestions and line edits:
ReplyDeletehis breath was visible in THE cold
and I'd break up that last paragraph more:
Much as I hated to admit it, the guy did have a point. You could probably count on one hand the number of houses in town that you wouldn’t be able to open the front door, go right in and make yourself at home. Cedar Knolls was the kind of quaint western Massachusetts town where everyone knows everyone, being the best good neighbor is a competitive sport, and practically no one locks their doors.
Evidently, Jeff was among the few who did, and it served to make me wonder what else our teacher might be hiding in his small off-campus Cape Cod. Jeff had managed to wrangle the posh digs out of the Board of Trustees in exchange for gracing us with his presence, while the rest of the senior faculty lived in apartments on the Cedar Knolls Academy campus. The unfortunate junior teachers had to bunk with us in the dorms, doubling as babysitters.
Hope that helped!
Thanks Shelley and Angelica for the helpful critiques. I've already done substantial revision after Erica's comments last week (not sure why I went twice, but it's fun) and these provided addition insight. Thanks! Great workshop.
ReplyDeleteI would love a hint somewhere in there about the character's motivations. An adjective that indicated sneaky behavior, or concern, or annoyance . . . when I feel like a book is teasing me into waiting past the first page to understand where and what's happening, I get turned off.
ReplyDeleteI understand what you're saying regarding revisions - the same thing happens to me! Within approximately 30 seconds of submission, I know exactly what I need to change.