To Alistar of Woodland

This post is for Alistar, but you can read it if you wish. You can also check out her blog HERE.

For the guest post, you said a segment of a story or me introducing myself was fine. So here goes.

Hi! My blogger name is Book blogger, but I have a million other nicknames. You will usually find me hanging out with friends and family, reading, in my room working on my novel, baking, or playing violin and piano. When I grow up I wish to teach music and write books. I am usually smiling and I love to laugh. I am rather shy when you first meet me, but once you get to know me you will find me to be annoyingly loud. :)

I just finished a book and am currently working on a sequel. Here is the beginning...

Chapter one

“Would you keep that down up there?” my Mom yelled.

I sighed and laid my violin back in its case. No one in my family appreciated the mystery and the beauty of the violin. When I began to play, it seemed to have a story to tell.

Not like anyone in my family cared. My Mom was forever telling me to “keep it down.” My sister, Kitty, once actually ripped up my favourite sheet of music in exasperation with all my practicing, and my Dad was never home.

“Mo-om!” I called down the stairs. “I have to practice.”

“Not that much, you don’t,” my Mom snapped back. “Now come on down here and set the table for supper.”

I stormed down the stairs and jerked open the cupboard door, pulled out the plates, and setting them on the table with a crash.

“Something wrong, Miquette?” Mom looked up from the cookbook she was reading.

I glared at her. “I was practicing,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why couldn’t Kitty set the table? I’m the one who was actually doing something useful. All she’s doing is giggling on the phone about which boy said what to who.”

“To whom,” Mom correctly calmly.

“You know what I mean,” I spat back, ready to throw the salt container I was carrying at her.

Mom made a clicking sound with her tongue. “You’ll get no where with attitude like that, young lady.”

I was all ready with a sarcastic comment, but I decided against it. It would only make Mom angrier.

“Kitty! Come down to the table!” Mom called in a sing-song voice, ignoring my glare.

I could hear Kitty get off her bed and open her door. “Just a minute, Mom!”

The door closed.

I knew we would not be seeing Kitty anytime soon. She was probably on the phone with Sally, which meant they were talking about Sally’s engagement party, which meant that they would be on the phone all night.

“Can I just start, Mom?” I asked.

“Go ahead, Miquette.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Our argument was at a standstill. This was what usually happened, and I was glad. I hated to fight. But Mom didn’t realize how important my violin playing was to me.

I gulped down my dinner as fast as I could, before Kitty would come down and join me—although I knew it was unlikely she would get off the phone that soon. I was not in the mood to eat with Kitty, her insistent chatter and giggling got on my nerves. If you think I was overreacting with Mom, you should see me around Kitty.

Actually, check that. You probably don’t want to.

When I finished dinner, I went back up into my room and resumed my practicing.

“Can’t you give your violin a rest?” my mom yelled. “I don’t want another call from your teacher about a late homework assignment.”

I sighed, set down my violin, and took up my homework.

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“Miquette, I would like to speak with you after practice.” The orchestra director, Mr. Andrews, turned his gaze on me.

The girl who stood next to me, Rachelle, turned and grinned at me. “Ooh,” she said. “I wonder if you’re in trouble.”

“Oh, be quiet, Rachelle.” I glanced nervously at Mr. Andrews. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Rachelle raised an eyebrow, but wisely kept her mouth shut. I was the queen of sarcasm, she could never win a fight against me.

I never really liked Rachelle. She was the kind of girl who always remembered to bring her music and a pencil to orchestra. I usually forget my music and had to share with somebody else. So you can imagine how I am at remembering a little thing like a pencil.

The rehearsal went as it usually did, nothing interesting happened. Afterwards, while everyone was packing up, Mr. Andrews pulled me to the side.

“I got a call a couple days ago,” he began.

Uh-oh. This isn’t sounding good. “Who was it? What’d they say?”

“Funny, I was just about to tell you.” Mr. Andrews looked at me pointedly and continued. “It was from the Ruby School of Music.” Here Mr. Andrews paused and waited for my reaction.

I drew in sharp breath. That’s my dream school!

“They asked me to pick the person I thought had the most promise in the orchestra and send that person to them.”

I quickly digested the information. “And just like that? That person would get in?”

He held up a hand. “Slow down. No, it’s not that easy. The person I chose, upon arrival, would face even more competition. In the end, only two people would come out of those competitions. They would then have a face-off. The person who wins would receive a scholarship and permission to enter the school.”

I closed my eyes, picturing myself at the school.

Mr. Andrews smiled at me. “I picked you.”

I hope that's alright, Alistar! Thanks for asking me to do this!