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I am writing a Novella called 'The Cheater'. Here Is the first chapter:


Chapter One


There. I have it. The answer key. I crinkle it into a ball and toss it into the open mouth of my paisley print backpack. I hear footsteps down the hall. No student is supposed to be inside any NYC public schools without a partner after 3:20, and even then, only if there for after school activities. I have no one with me, no excuse to be in Miss Del-Rosa’s science classroom, and on top of all that, I am stealing the answers to a test. So naturally, I panic. I do a quick scan of the room, looking for a place to hide. My efforts are fruitless. I take deep breath. I am calm. Almost immediately, I notice the supply closet. It always smells of chemicals, rubber, and latex. Knowing I will leave smelling like a blown-up science lab, I slide the door open and step inside. It is large, nearly stuffed to the ceiling with odds and ends, but I see a place in one corner where a tall, muscular girl of twelve might hide. I waste no time in settling into my little hiding place, as I hear Miss Del-Rosa come into the room speaking into a cell phone. “Yes, I will have the results from tomorrow’s test on your desk the moment I have them graded… That sounds fine Principal McSpadden, just fine… Alright then. Goodbye.” I have a very good view of the room, the rather wide crack in the door is near my left eye. She tosses the little blue device into her large white bag. She mutters “Now where did I put those answers?” Oh, fantastic, she’s already on to me. The only reason I took the answers is because… Well, I have good grades in everything but science. I even competed in the Scripps National Spelling Bee last year, in sixth grade. Math, History, Reading… It’s all a breeze. But science? I haven’t made even a C- yet, and Its already December. Out of all the quizzes, tests, reports, and papers, my best score I have received is a D. Really. I am not kidding. I have even gotten some F’s. I am going to fail Seventh Grade Science if I do not pick my grades up. THe worst part is that if I can’t get at least a B on tomorrow’s test, I will be kicked off the volleyball team, and my Mom will make me study a lot more. I already have a lot to do, juggling volleyball, spelling, school, and my LIFE. My foot is falling asleep. Miss Del-Rosa just left. Good. Now I have to get out. I stand quietly, and tip toe out the door. I am standing alone in the classroom. I walk slowly to the door. I look both ways down the hall. Seeing nobody, I run. I run for dear life. I do not stop until I reach my bedroom door.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I am sitting in my second story bedroom, at my desk, studying the stolen paper. It will get me my B, for which I am thankful. I have been hiding the paper all evening long, in order to avoid anyone seeing it. I do not want to imagine what would happen if my Mom or Dad or Sister saw the answers to my test. It would be a goodbye to my laptop, my cell phone, my spot on the volleyball team, and probably any hopes of going much of anywhere for at least a month. “Nicci? It’s time to eat.” My sister Delaney knows I hate my nickname, which was taken from my middle name, Nicole. I ignore her voice. I have only another couple of hours to memorize the test. Three calls and two minutes later, I hear a knock on the door. “Amira Nicole Coralie?! We’ve been calling your name for five minutes! What’s going on in there?” The door opens. “Amira, what are you doing in here?” I had just enough time to stash the paper under my desk before she opened the door. “Oh, I’m just studying for a test.” She looks skeptically at me. “What kind of test?” I blush. “Oh… Its- Uh… Just a test.” Her voice becomes harder as she says “Amanda. What kind of test is it? Spelling, Math, History, Spanish, what?” I look around the room. “Science.” I say in a whisper. “What was that Missy?” When Mom call calls me by my full name, Amira Nicole Coralie, or calls me ‘Missy’, she means business. “Science.” I say in a louder voice. “Ah. Science. Mandie, I know its hard, and I know you hate it with this burning passion you always tell me about, but I think the three time regional spelling bee champion can pass a seventh grade science class. You remember math facts, history facts, and study words well enough. Why can’t you memorize formulas and facts in science class?” I bury my face in my hands. “Mom… words… numbers… those stick in my brain. Chemistry. All of those Ologies-” My mom lets out a snort of laughter. “Ologies?” I scowl at her. “I’m sorry. Go on.” I nod curtly. “I can’t remember any of that science stuff I learn. I can remember any other school work, any schedule, and game strategy, but I cannot remember science figres to save my life.” My mom sits, thinking for a moment. “Well, some people learn visually. By looking at and reading things. Some people learn by hearing things repeatedly. Others learn by writing things repeatedly. Some people need to do all of these things before he or she can remember material. Maybe that’s what you should do.” I smile a fake, forced smile, and nod. “Yeah, sure, thats sounds great. I’ll try it.” I instantly feel horrible for lying. No, I do NOT have time to do extra science studying. Yes, I am STILL going to read the answer key. But my Mom is trying to be nice, helpful, and involved in my schoolwork. I wish I could just be the perfect little girl my sister is. Delaney is smart, pretty, talented, popular, athletic, and has probably never really experienced being inferior to much of anyone. I am smart. Usually. I am only kind of pretty. I’m athletic, but not popular. I am good at spelling, and sports. and That is all. I have never felt “As Good” as my sister. But enough with my little pity party, I have to memorize this information. I sit for another hour, reading, studying, and copying down the sheet of text. Then, I get up, brush my teeth, take a quick shower, twist my long, thick blond hair into a bun, and put on some warm pajamas. They’re my favorite ones to wear. Green shorts and a blue sweatshirt. I climb into my big bed, pulling the red comforter up around my ears. I fall asleep quickly, destined to a night of horrible dreams about a cheater.

This is really good! I love all the details--you're very good at describing things realistically. She seems like a real person. It's suspenseful-- I can't wait to see what happens, and what kind of consequences there will be.

One thing I can recommend--it gets a little hard to read large blocks of text. It's nice to have shorter paragraphs to give the eyes a rest every once in a while. Each line of dialogue should have a separate paragraph.

That way it'll be easier for people to enjoy your awesome story!

Thanks! I have three chapters written. I'll post the rest of them later

Here is more

Chapter Two


I wake up to the sound of Jays and Cardinals chirping outside the window of my big, blue bedroom. It is such a calming sound. But now, I remember. I have a test this afternoon, directly after lunch. I am nervous. Not about the test itself, I know the material. I am nervous because of the Reason I know the material. If I get found out, what am I to do? I wished so hard that I could turn back time and put the answer key back. But, wishing is a fairytale. So I have to go into the test, knowing the answers beforehand. I have been feeling very guilty, but I’m not about to turn myself in. I don’t feel that terrible. I stand up, removing my Pajamas. I love the soft Blue fabric of the shirt and the worn green fabric of the shorts. Then, I notice the time. “Agh! It’s 6:35!” The bus comes by my house at 7:00, so’s to get to school by 7:40, because we start at 8:00 sharp. I truly hate starting so early. “Amira, get down here!” I here my little brother call. “Joshua, calm down, I’ll be down soon.” I holler back. I throw on some jeans and a red shirts, with a sparkly white hoodie. I pull my hair into a ponytail, grab my volleyball bag, and my backpack, and race down the stairs, into the warm kitchen. It smelled like cinnamon. My eyes light up when I see what is inside the pan sitting on the counter “Ooh, cinnamon rolls!” Mom looks over at me. “Because you slept in, you’ll have to eat on the bus,” she said, handing me a lunchbox, and my breakfast: a huge cinnamon roll, a peach, and a smoothie in a reused Starbucks cup. It smells like strawberries. “Now, do you have everything? Homework, sports bag, lunch, the cell phone?” When I started middle school, my Mom and Dad gave me a cell phone. I have to do a lot of walking (You know, the School system only provides transportation to school every morning during Middle School.) and riding every day, and we live in NYC, so they felt I needed one to be safe. “Yes, Mom, I do.” She gave me a hug, saying, “Alright, then, go on to the bus stop.” It is 6:55. Yikes! I grab my things off of the floor, and sprint out the door, calling, “Bye Joshua, Bye Mom, Bye Delaney!” I run towards the bus stop, reaching the corner moments before the School Bus pulled up. Ellona Diaz, my good friend Matthew Spencer, and Jade Stoner were already standing there. “Hey Amira,” Matthew said, under his breath. We’re good friends, but not at School. A bunch of ignorant people would enjoy making “Matthew and Amira” jokes, so we do not really talk much to each at school. “Hey.” I reply. I trudge up the five steps to the platform, and I head to my normal seat with Layla and Gracie, at the back of the bus. The two are engrossed in a conversation about their dance class. They have taken dance classes together for years, ever since kindergarten. Ballet is the only one they have stuck to. But they go to their studio five days a week. They dance for three hours each afternoon. I think they must have superpowers. But, they leave school an hour early, at 2:30. They eat fast food for supper a lot… And have hardly any time for anything during the week except for school, ballet and homework. It really stinks. “Hey, Layla, hey, Gracie.” They brighten when they see me. “Oh, hey, Amira, sit down.” Layla motions towards the seat next to her. “What’s new?” Asks Gracie, a twinkle in her eye. “New since 3:00 yesterday afternoon? Well, our team won the volleyball game… I suppose that counts for something.” Layla laughs. “Wow! That’s awesome. Did you serve a lot?” I smile. “It was great. I served half the game, or more.” Gracie grins. “Cool. I auditioned for Coppelia yesterday. I find out on Friday if I got my part. Auditions on a Monday, results on a Friday? Slower than usual, but I have to deal with it.” Layla rolls her eyes. “Gracie. I have to wait also!” She turns to me. “I auditioned for Swanhilda, but If I get in, it’ll probably be a smaller part, ‘cause-” “I auditioned for Coppelia, the doll, and I know I’ll get it, though,” Gracie chimes in. “Oh, okay. Well, I hope you get it. If I don’t do well on the test in science today, I get kicked off the volleyball team.” Layla frowns. “And we all know what your grades are like in science,” Gracie says, a little sarcasm in her voice. “Gracie!” Layla reproves. “That’s a terrible thing to say.” I turn red. “The highest grade I’ve gotten this year in Science is a D! a D! I have to get a B in order to stay on the team.” Gracie’s eyes widen. “Well, how in the world is that going to happen?” I wish Gracie would shut her big mouth. “I feel prepared… I guess.” I don’t feel as terrible as I did fifteen minutes earlier, sitting in my kitchen. “That’s great. I hope you do well.” Layla says kindly, shooting a warning glance at Gracie. “Oh, uh, yeah, I hope you do well, too.” I nod curtly at Gracie, the smile at Layla. “Hey, what’s the book?” Layla asks, seeing the dark red corner poking out of the top of my backpack. “Oh, it’s a textbook for my separate language studies.” I take high school and college level courses, and study for my spelling bees during English, Reading and Foreign Language periods, because I am advanced in those subjects. “Ah, figures.” says Gracie. “What’s it about?” I didn’t think Gracie had any interest in my multilingual pursuits. “Oh, it’s about origins of words.” Gracie smirks. “Who knew anyone could be so good at Spelling and reading and foreign language junk, but couldn’t pass a seventh grade science class?” Gracie has a habit of forgetting that sometimes rudeness and sarcasm are actually hurtful sometimes. “GRACIE!?” Layla exclaims, a little louder than I think she meant to, causing the rows of middle school students ahead of us to turn around. “Sorry.” She says quietly, blushing to the color of a cherry. “Gracie,” She says more quietly, “That’s an Awful thing to say.” Gracie turns away. “What? It’s true.” Everyone is quiet for about three minutes. “Sorry if I hurt your feelings.” I give her a squeeze on the shoulder. “It’s alright Gracie. You have to learn when your mouth needs to be shut.” She laughs nervously. “I have 99 problems, and 86 of them would be solved if I knew how to shut my big mouth.” I laugh. “No surprise there Gracie.” We chat quietly about dance, volleyball, when to have a sleepover party and other little ‘girl’ things the rest of the way to school.












Chapter Three

“Hey- Hey, can I please get through?” I am in the middle of a crowd of students trying to see the bulletin board. There were a lot of tests today, it seems. “You’re not the only one who needs a good grade to save your life, you know?” It’s Maren Phillips, an eighth grader who plays on my volleyball team. She doesn’t like me, and though she is a really good player, She is half the player I am and she knows it. That’s why she doesn’t like me. “Sorry, Maren, just trying to get a look… honestly.” She wasn’t even listening anymore. I am finally at the front of the mass of kids. I look for the sheet listing the scores of Miss Del-Rosa’s Science Test. Ah Ha! “Adams… Aldrin, Bame, Brown, Brookes, Blue, Coralie. Here.” My finger traces the paper until it reaches the far right side… where the scores are listed. I am afraid to look. “What?!” I explode with joy, relief, guilt, and it is overwhelming. “A B+! I got a B+!” I can’t believe it. I really did it. I know I cheated, I’m not a moron, but I am so glad I’m going to be able to stay on the team. Everyone quiets. The intercom starts. “Will the following students please report to Principal McSpadden’s Office: Sean Jamison, Layla Pinion, and Amanda Coralie. Again, Sean Jamison, Layla Pinion, and Amira Coralie, please report to Principal McSpadden’s office.” I feel my face turn white. Oh. No. NO, no, no no no no no. I really hope this isn’t about what I think it is about. I stand, shell-shocked for a moment. Suddenly, Maren appears at my side. “Well, well, well. What are you waiting for? The principal is waiting for you.” I turn from white to deep, deep, cherry red. I turn and speed down the hallway, towards the accursed office. I knock at the door. “Come in?” I hear Principal McSpadden’s voice say. I open the door, and walk in slowly. Layla and Sean are already there, seated, looking solemn. “Sit down, Miss Coralie.” I sit. “Now, children, I am not going to waste time. Yesterday, when Miss Del-Rosa told me that her answer key for today’s test was missing, we both knew something was up. You see, this answer key was a joke, in essence. It had the answers backwards. If a student were to take the sheet and memorize it, the answers he or she put down would be completely in error. Each of you three students had your answers or some of your answers backwards.” Principal McSpadden says sternly. We sit in solemn silence, not knowing at all what to say. “Layla. Did you steal the sheet of answers?” Principal said. “No, Ma’am, I did not.” She says politely, calmly. “If, you had to guess whether Sean or Amira, here, stole the sheet, which would you suspect the most?” She bites her lip, and turns pink. “Um… Mira, I suppose.” Principal nodded. “I see. Now, Sean, did you steal the answers?” He sits up straight, and like Layla, answers calmly and politely. “No, Ma’am, I did not.” She looks him over. “I see. Sean, if you had to decide which of these young ladies were guilty, who would you say?” He keeps a perfectly straight face. “Layla, here, I guess.” He is being pretty cool about this. Principal turns to me. “Now, Amira, did you steal the sheet of answers?” The moment of truth. Or not. “No. I did not.” She nods. “Now, If it were up to you, would you suspect Sean, or Layla of this crime more?” I feel terrible about what I am about to say: “Layla. I would suppose Layla stole the answers.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Layla looks ready to cry. After a moment of silence, Principal McSpadden speaks up. “One of you is a liar. A liar and a cheater. I want the truth. Now.” Another moment of silence. “I see. To be honest, I believe that you, Sean are innocent. I am going to look into this a bit more, but for now, dear, you’re free to go.” He stands up, says “Thank you, Ma’am.” And walks out the door. Just like that. Layla glances at me. We’ve been friends for so long, its almost like I can read her face. It says ‘Can she do that?’ The look I send back says ‘apparently.’ Even though I have betrayed her, and she knows it, we still have that connection. “Girls, I have to decide between the two of you. And I will not make foolish guesses. If one of you speaks up and admits your guilt, this will all end nicely. But if you both are silent, I shall have to draw my own conclusion,” She says primly. “No answers?” She asks after we both remain silent. “Alright then. You’ve left me no choice. I must make a decision.” She sits, silently, for at least ten minutes. Layla and I shoot each confused looks. I didn’t think teachers and school authorities could do this. “I have come to a decision. I cannot be completely sure which of you is the cheater,” Her words bite. “But, my better instinct and all facts point to…” She is keeping us both in suspense. “Miss Layla Pinion. Amira, you and Layla both may go home. Layla, I have your parent’s contact information. I will be calling them later to discuss your punishment.” Layla stands, nods, her face white, saying, “Okay, Ma’am. But I did nothing wrong.” Principal McSpadden looked strangely at her. “That will be all Miss Pinion.” Layla walks out, with me following close behind. Her face is pale, she looks stunned, and all I can see in her eyes is shock, and anger. I’m not used to seeing those emotions in my best friend. I am accustomed to seeing joy, kindness, love, and passion coming from her. Now, I see none of these things.
We walk towards the door, slowly, quietly. When the door opens, she runs. Layla throws herself into the sprint, not looking back, even after I call her name. “Layla! Layla, wait!” She doesn’t even look back. Suddenly, I remember: Layla will be going towards 81st street, where her house is. There is a shortcut I found that I use to go from school to her house. What am I waiting for? I need to hurry, or I will miss her.

This is good. I especially love your personification of the backpack at the very beginning. Never would have thought of that. You had a couple grammatical errors, mostly with tenses, but those are easily fixed. You are very talented on a purely technical level, so I just hope your ending isn't as predictable as I'm afraid it will be. I mean, I hate to crush your spirits, but the whole "kid cheats on a test and feels guilty about it" story has probably been written literally a hundred times, and replicated in real life 100 times that number. So I just hope you give it a unique spin plot wise at the end. I actually have the exact opposite problem with writing that you have: I consider myself fairly good on the plot and character development side, but I struggle with description and dialogue. Overall, good job, just when you're writing the ending, try not to fall into the predictability trap. But I'm confident you already have that part worked out.

By the way, is the name Principal McSpadden a reference to "The Election Deception"?

Also, I don't mean to pry, but is this autobiographical, or did you just draw certain elements from your own life? The Scripps National Spelling Bee made me think of your question on my Q & A topic.

ArnoldtheRubberDucky wrote:This is good. I especially love your personification of the backpack at the very beginning. Never would have thought of that. You had a couple grammatical errors, mostly with tenses, but those are easily fixed. You are very talented on a purely technical level, so I just hope your ending isn't as predictable as I'm afraid it will be. I mean, I hate to crush your spirits, but the whole "kid cheats on a test and feels guilty about it" story has probably been written literally a hundred times, and replicated in real life 100 times that number. So I just hope you give it a unique spin plot wise at the end. I actually have the exact opposite problem with writing that you have: I consider myself fairly good on the plot and character development side, but I struggle with description and dialogue. Overall, good job, just when you're writing the ending, try not to fall into the predictability trap. But I'm confident you already have that part worked out.

By the way, is the name Principal McSpadden a reference to "The Election Deception"?

Also, I don't mean to pry, but is this autobiographical, or did you just draw certain elements from your own life? The Scripps National Spelling Bee made me think of your question on my Q & A topic.

Yes it is an election deception reference. And I think it is going a different way than you think it is NO, not autobiographical

Oh the character development is great.