WIPpet, WIPpet Good

Yeah, I totally stole that term. Lisa and Laura always have the hippest terms. "Hip" is probably outdated. You see, I still wear clothes from like the 90s and all that. I think I have some T's from high school. No, really. I'm not what you would call fashionable in any way. Maybe my hair...

Anyway, so they posted a WIPpet last week. It's basically a snippet of writing on a Wednesday. See how that makes a WIPpet? Work In Progress + snippet = WIPpet. Yeah, I like new words and stuff like that. Word equations are also high on my list of Simple Things That Make Me Happy.

So anyhow, this is from my WIP (obviously or it wouldn't be a WIPpet *rolls eyes*) Dying To Live. My MC is in social dance class with this guy who's been assigned to be her trig tutor, but she doesn't want him...yeah, just read it.


“Can I dance with her today?” another guy asked. I turned around to see pretty-boy, red-polo Landon Wilson. He grinned, revealing an orthodontically-induced set of white teeth.

“Sure, man,” Brian said, turning to Sarah. They moved out into the middle of the room where Mrs. Bowman was yelling instructions.

I stood staring up at Landon’s too-happy face. At least he was taller than me.

“I won’t bite,” he said, reaching for my hand.

I stepped toward the dance floor just before he touched me. He followed and we positioned ourselves the way Mrs. Bowman demonstrated. His hand felt hot on my back, but the skin where we were touching felt cold.

“Look,” I said. “I’m gonna need some help after all. Can you come over this weekend?” I looked at Mrs. Bowman so I wouldn’t have to see the victory in his eyes.

Landon moved like he’d been taking private dance lessons his entire life. I stepped on his foot and cringed.

“Sure, no problem. When? I can come over after school today…if you want.”

I didn’t want, but I didn’t have a choice. “Okay. Maybe like, four o’clock?” That would give me time to do my other homework and get the house cleaned up a little bit. As an added bonus, Michael usually took a short nap around four.

“I can, um, give you a ride home after school. If that would help.”

Now he was the one looking anywhere but at me. The music started and Landon twirled me through the steps easily. I let him toss me and push me where I was supposed to go, wondering how to answer.

“Wonderful, Mr. Wilson,” Mrs. Bowman praised. “Ah, Bristol, glad you’re here today.” She smiled and moved to the next couple, who were all tangled up in each other’s arms.

I stepped away from Landon. “No, I don’t need a ride.” He was way out of my league; he had a car and could make his own schedule. Not to mention the fancy-pants jeans and professional hair cut. I hacked at my own every few months to keep the split ends at bay.

He did the annoying throat clearing. “Okay. I can come at four. I can’t tomorrow, because the soccer team is having a senior send-off, but I can come on Saturday.”

I knew it. Soccer. “Are you a senior?” It sounded like an accusation.

“Yes.” He answered like it was a defense.

“What about Sunday?” I asked. Dad always went to church on Sunday. Maybe I could keep my failing grades in trig a secret—as well as my new, senior-soccer tutor.

“Sunday works for me. What time?”

“Eleven-ish. Is that okay?”

Landon grinned. “Anything is okay. See you at four.” He moved through the crowd to a group of senior boys I recognized from the soccer team. He wasn’t the tallest, or the best-looking, the loudest or the quietest. He probably was the smartest, but I never would have known. They’d signed up for the “social” part, just like Brian, because a few girls sat with them, all smiles and short skirts.


Did I WIPpet good? Or do I need to address "teh suck"?