The Cheerful Spectator — Introduce to yourself a narrator intimate to a story but outside it as well. The wonderful effect of a narrator who is intertwined with a story, but also essentially unimportant to its outcome is that you have more leisure to explore the complexities of the plot, the kinks in it, and the gaps of knowledge this cheerful spectator is going to have.This is the third consecutive prompt from this book that has presented itself like a brick wall. I tried to come up with something. Anything. But nothing came. Instead, I found myself drawn back to an old idea (from Oct. 2004), and even then I didn't really fulfill the prompt's central challenge. I'm on to something, though. I'm tinkering with this thing. Let me know what you think.
I'm tired of the suburbs. I would like to escape, but I can't leave while she's here. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Like a beautiful flower that sprouts up in the space between two slabs of the eternal sidewalk in Christopher Meadows. She's something different in this suburban sprawl of the same. Every house is the same, inhabited by the same family. Over and over and over into infinity.
The only problem is that I'm no exception to the rule of law here. I'm just the youngest of 7 boys, and it's seems to have fallen on me to maintain the status quo until I get my own personal kingdom in the sky or something.
The first time I tried to speak to her did not go as planned. I always made sure to leave my house at the same time as this girl from across the street and 4 houses down. 2108 Johnsway Drive. As long as I did that, I would never be late to school because I always ride my bike. But it didn't take me very long to realize that this girl that I kept zooming past was—like I already said—the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I really wanted to talk to her, but every time I went extra slow, we’d both get to school before I could figure out what to say.
It took me about a block and a half to work up enough courage to ride up next to her. "Good morning," I said.
"Oh," she said, having not noticed me until that very moment. "Hi."
She just kept walking, and I just kept riding, both of us silent. I wasn't really sure what to say. I hadn't quite thought that far ahead. I was actually still pretty amazed that I managed to make it this far.
Thankfully, she broke the silence. "You live down the street, right?"
"Yeah. I'm Peter." After introducing yourself, the polite thing to do is shake hands, but you should never try to shake someone’s hand while riding a bike. You'll lose control and almost wreck. Then she will laugh at you. Then you would have to expertly regain control and finish introducing yourself. It’s a good thing that I definitely didn't do those things. "I'm Peter Drugal."
"Hi, Peter," she said, not still laughing at the thing that I didn't do.
"You can call me Pete."
"A pleasure to meet you, Pete. I'm Andrea Snow."
And then we got to school. I know it’s kind of a boring start for a story, so it’s a good thing that it’s only the start for a story.
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