I started writing this book in 2009, and finally sat down to finish it during the 2014 NaNoWriMo.
I love witty dialogue, and a chance to have a fun and engaging read is always high on my list.
The protagonist, Nick, has a sarcastic sense of humor that most of us can identify with. Caught up in the chance to do something more with his life, he starts to understand how his actions affect those around him.
Suitable for young adults and up.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Click. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Beep beep. Click. One bleary eye cracked open, just enough to read the fuzzy numbers on the alarm clock. Six forty-five. Oh hell.
A scramble to throw off the covers, and then a muffled thud as bare feet hit carpet. A crow hop, muffled curse, and silent shiver later, I was in the shower before the water had warmed.
I hated mornings, almost as much as they hated me. Lathered, rinsed, no time to repeat. How did I sleep so late? I thought I only hit snooze twice… consciously. Soap went on the loofah. Scrub, scrub, scrub. My boss is going to kill me. This is the third time this week.Maybe I needed a louder alarm clock. Brushed teeth in circles, no scrubbing, stupid sensitive gums. Sometimes I wondered if I’d be better off exercising in the morning, to get the blood flowing, feel better, you know? Every time I wondered that, I also quickly accepted that I was lazy.
No time to iron a shirt, so today was going to be a casual day. Was it Friday? Damn, it was Thursday. Okay, today would be a more casual Thursday than usual; I’d start a new trend. No, that’s bad. I was already late. If I showed up in a casual shirt, I’d probably be fired. The dress code wasn’t complicated where I work, but they insisted on collared shirts, except on Fridays. Maybe I was already fired… Wait! I saw it! Rummaging through the pile of clean laundry, which was luckily larger than the pile of dirty laundry, I saw the sleeve of a microfiber "wrinkle free" shirt. Not entirely unwrinkled, but victory nonetheless! They didn’t pay me enough to wear a collared shirt every day, but given that I hadn’t become independently wealthy overnight, I accepted the indignity. A quick three minutes to get dressed and I ran down the stairs of my apartment building.
This was how I spent most mornings. A long time ago, I decided to set my alarm clock fifteen minutes fast, so that I could trick myself into getting out of the door on time. Okay, mostly on time. Today, it was closer to on time than not, so I would probably keep my job.
Have you ever worked in retail? If you haven’t, I suggest that you try it at least once. In a few short hours, you will find that your life before retail was a utopia never again to be imagined. My job was to sell coffee to people who thought it was cool to order by using as many words as possible. If I never heard, "I’ll have a half-caff, double-shot, caramel, mocha latté with soy, no whip" again, I’d die a happy man. The best possible news regarding my current profession was that I worked at The Fix, an independent local shop, so I had that going for me at least. Everyone wanted to look down the line and feel better about themselves, and I took solace in reminding myself that ’at least I wasn’t corporate.’ Cold comfort, I know, but I didn’t have a lot of silver linings to look at.
"You’re late again," my boss said the moment he heard the bell over the door ring. How did Mark do that? He didn’t even...