Shades of Sparkles
I’ve always been dull.
Ok, that didn’t come out right. That’s not what I meant. What I’m trying to say is, is that I’m not stupid or dumb or otherwise lacking in the brains department, because, in fact, I’m actually quite the opposite. I’m at the top of my senior class, and have an IQ of 250. Two more months of boring high school, and then I’ll be off to college. No, I’d say I was far from dumb–just dull.
And, what I mean by dull is, my life and everything about it is dull. I just don’t shine. I’m over-shadowed by those around me, and I mean, everyone. Even those in my class that are dumber than myself.
My looks are sub-standard at best, and my hair won’t do anything that I want it to. In fact, the day it looks good will probably be the day that I’m dead, laying in a casket awaiting my funeral. It’s a dingy brown colour with absolutely no highlights in it at all. My dull hair hangs down against my pale, sunless skin. If I go out in the sunlight for even a minute, I’m burnt to a crisp. It’s just easier to wear SPF 100 proof sunscreen and a floppy hat instead of having to endure the wrath of a burn just so I can look as if I’ve been tanning.
As for my facial features, even they are lack-lustre. My eyes are a dull grey brown that look like murky rainwater puddles laying beside a commonplace nose. My lips are thin and flat. Even I cringe when I look in the mirror. I’m definitely no Snow White, although, I have to confess, my skin is whiter than hers. Even my name means white–Biancha. And, my nickname is Snow Ball. Fitting actually, since my last name is Ball.
However, even though my looks are kind of in the toilet, my grades are exceptional. That being said, I wish my love life was. It’s kind of in the toilet, too. Always has been. With my looks, I’d end up with the pimply-faced kid with the broken glasses and pocket protector. Even then, it’s a crap-shoot. I’ve had worse looking kids laugh at me.
My parents are divorced. I’m now living with my pocket-protected dad with the zit scars on his face and the miles of computer cordage hanging out of his back pocket. He might be a computer nerd, but he’s a great dad. He doesn’t hover. I like that about him.
I just moved here to this school the other day, and already I’ve been kicked out of groups. I tried out for the cheerleading squad, but the head cheerleader told me I was pathetic, and that my moves were lifeless. I thought they were pretty good. They told me that my cheers brought tears to their eyes, and not in a good way.
Next I tried out for the glee club, hoping that a little music and drama would make my life a little less dull. I auditioned for the spring musical which was Silence Of The Lambs. The drama teacher told me that I didn’t make a very nice moth and that when I sang, dogs were barking in response.
See what I mean? I’m dull. Lifeless. A matte finish in a shiny world. I suck.
I arrived at school much like I had any other day, alone and uninteresting, when my one and only friend, Alyssa, caught up with me and walked me to the cafeteria.
“Hey, Biancha. Whatcha doin’?” she asked enthusiastically.
“Um, walking to class.” I shifted my books in my arms and adjusted the strap of my purse back onto my shoulder.
“Well, do we have a few minutes before class? I want to talk to you about my math homework. I don’t get it.”
I nodded. “Yeah, sure. What don’t you get?”
Alyssa shoved her math book at me and muttered, “All of it! I don’t get any of it.”
We walked to the cafeteria and sat at the extra nerdier table. Alyssa opened her book to the page she wanted help with but I was far from paying attention. I couldn’t pay attention. Not when this extremely beautiful guy just walked by our table. I elbowed Alyssa and asked, “Who’s he?”
She looked up to see who I was looking at, then back at her book, pointing to the questions she needed the answers for. “Oh, that’s Fredward Coolson,” she said nonchalantly. She shoved the book over at me again and said, “Here, these are the questions that I don’t get.” I was too busy looking at Fredward Coolson to notice what questions she was talking about. Suddenly I was whacked from behind. I turned around to find Alyssa with a glaring look in her eyes and her book shoved ever closer to me. She poked the book with her finger and said, “Pay attention to me, not him. Besides, Fredward doesn’t like anyone here. He never dates, and he doesn’t even talk to anyone, so get that thought out of your mind.”
I tried to concentrate on the questions she had laid out before me, but my eyes kept wandering up to where Fredward sat on the other side of the cafeteria. Alyssa whacked me again.
Suddenly, in the mere blink of an eye, he was standing beside me. I looked up, and I know a stupid smile came upon my face. He didn’t have a smile on his though. Mine quickly disappeared.
“You’re Biancha.” It wasn’t a question but more of a statement. I nodded, my jaw waving in the air as it hung loosely from my face. “Are you ok? Is she bullying you?”
I didn’t know what to say. Was she? No, silly, she just needed some help. I just couldn’t help but stare at him instead of helping her. He was the most handsome guy I had ever seen, and certainly one that cute would never speak to me under normal circumstances. Was he normal? Or was he as abnormal as I?
Suddenly I felt another whack to the back of my head. It was Alyssa again. I looked back at her and she whispered through clenched teeth, “Answer him.” She moved her eyeballs in his direction, alerting me that he was kind of glaring at her.
I looked back at him. “Ah, no.” Pointing to Alyssa, I added, “Um, this is my friend, Alyssa. She needs some help with her math homework.”
Just then the bell rang. Like a shot, he was gone. I watched him leave with no regrets and no goodbye’s or “I’ll maybe see you later at lunchtime”. There was nothing. He was just gone. God, his backside was to die for.
“Sorry, Alyssa. Maybe I can help you at lunch time.” And, with that, I took my dullness and headed for my first class which was biology.
I went to my seat and sat down. The seat beside me had been empty the last few days, but now it was filled with sparkles and light. It was filled with Fredward.
Fredward was beautiful. His eyes were a sparkling gray and his perfectly highlighted hair was absolutely perfectly coiffed. I wondered how much gel he actually used to get it to stay that way. He stared at me the whole class. Well, it was almost a glare, but I’d like to think he was just staring.
At lunch time, I headed for the cafeteria to get my usual french fries, gravy and cheese curds, when I suddenly felt a draft behind me. I turned, and there was Fredward.
“You know, you really should stay away from me,” he uttered, then turned and walked away quickly.
I stood there dumbfounded. Huh? WTF? He’s the one that’s been coming around me, and yet he tells me that I should stay away from him? Weirdo.
I shrugged my shoulders and then went to sit at the nerdier table. Alyssa joined me soon after but all I could concentrate on was looking at Fredward. He was staring at me, too. Double weirdo.
“I need you to help me with my math. It’s my next class. You’ve got to…” I was staring at Fredward again. I couldn’t help myself. WHACK! Alyssa clobbered me again. Ok, I probably deserved it since I’d been kind of ignoring her, but he was just so darn cute.
In a flash, he was by my side again. He glared at Alyssa and then grabbed me by the arm, hauling me away. His eyes were sparkling, his grip firm but not hurting me as he dragged me away from Alyssa. I looked back at her and she just sat there dumbfounded at his actions towards me. For someone who didn’t talk to anyone or like being with anyone else, he was certainly going out of his way to talk and be with me.
He lugged me outside and around to the back of the school. I thought he was maybe going to hurt me. Should I run? Yell? I was pretty sure that it wouldn’t do any good anyway. He seemed to be pretty fast. And, what kind of name is Fredward anyway?
“Are…are you going to hurt me?” I asked, stuttering my words a little out of fright.
He backed me into the wall and put his hands on either side of me. The expression on his face looked like I had slapped him. “Hurt you? I…I feel very protective of you. Your so-called friend keeps whacking you.”
“Are you following me?” I asked, my voice squeaking just a bit. I was a little frightened of him. He had me boxed in.
“Well, just a little.”
“You always seem to be where I am. You’re always staring at me. You never eat or drink anything. You’re definitely fast. And, what kind of name is Fredward?”
“It’s just a name.”
“It sounds old”, I told him.
“It is.”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” he replied.
“How long have you been seventeen?”
“A while.”
“You’re frightening me.”
“Good.”
“Good?” God, what kind of psycho is this?
“Yeah, we shouldn’t be friends.”
“Why not?” I asked.
He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me further behind the school to where the bleachers were. It was deserted. Now I was extremely afraid. Was this guy some sort of serial killer? Some whacked out junkie who raped poor innocent girls? Should I scream? Or run?
But I didn’t do either of those. Instead, I let him drag me over behind the bleachers. He stood away from me and opened up his shirt. His skin sparkled as the sun beat down on him. There was so much sparkle that I thought I would go blind.
What the hell?
“This is what I am. I’m an alien from a far distant planet named Sparkletur.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Biancha, this is the skin of an alien.”
“I know. I heard you. How can I get skin like that?”
He looked at me astonishingly and started to do up his shirt buttons. I just wanted to look at him all day long. He curled up his nose at me and said, “What?”
“I want skin like that, too. I’m so….you know, blah. There’s nothing remotely pretty about me and you’re so gorgeous. I want that. I need that. I’m nothing but….drab.” I shuddered with the thought.
“You want to be like me?”
“Yes.”
“And, you’re ready right now?”
“Yes.”
He eyed me warily but pulled me closer to him, letting me feel his warmth against me. His sparkly skin was glaring right into my eyes. I wished that I had a pair of sunglasses right now.
But, I still wanted it. If I could be as beautiful as him, maybe I wouldn’t have to sit at the nerdier table anymore. Maybe the cheerleaders would want me on their team just for my beauty. Maybe I could be a butterfly instead of a moth.
He leaned in closer to me, his breath warm on my neck. I opened my neck for him and then it happened. He licked me.
A sudden rush of coolness dashed over my skin, making me shiver. As I held my arms out in front of me in the sunlight, they tingled. I squealed with delight as tiny sparkles emerged on my skin. I looked at a strand of my hair and it was suddenly a beautiful shade of chestnut with lighter and darker highlights throughout.
I opened my purse and pulled out my compact mirror. I bit my lip in anticipation of what I might look like. When I looked, I was amazed. The person staring back at me had sparkly gray eyes and was beautiful beyond any other girl in school. I looked way too beautiful to have to sit at the nerdier table again. I was even too beautiful for the cheerleaders.
I could honestly say that I wasn’t dull anymore.
Thanks to Fredward, now I sparkled.
As we walked back into the school together, hand-in-hand, my skin, hair and eyes sparkling as if some fairyland fairy threw up on me, I suddenly realized that everyone was staring at us. At me.
Alyssa grabbed me by the arm. I looked at her and smiled. “What happened to you?” she asked, looking at me from head to toe. She squinted her eyes from the glare.
“Fredward is what happened to me.” Looking at him with googly eyes, I said, “Isn’t he dreamy?”
“What have you done to yourself? You look like you just took a bath in silver glitter. You’re like fifty shades of sparkles.”
“I know. Isn’t it beautiful?” I held out my arm, watching the glitter catch the fluorescent lights from above.
“Well, I hope for your sake that it washes off. You look silly.”
I glared at her. How could she think I looked silly when I was now more beautiful than everyone else? “You’re just jealous because now I’m beautiful, and I now have a gorgeous boyfriend.” Looking at Fredward I said, “He’s going to ask me to the prom, aren’t you Fredward?”
“Ah, yeah, sure.” Fredward didn’t look so sure.
“What’s the matter, Fredward?” I asked, suddenly concerned about my social status. I mean, really, I would look hot in any outfit. And, I wouldn’t need jewellery. I was already blinged out.
“Um, well, it’s like this. Sparkleturians can’t dance. We all have two left feet.” I looked down at his feet. He appeared to have both a right and left foot.
I smiled, understanding that he just didn’t know how to dance. “That’s ok. I can always make you. Don’t worry. With my new looks and moves, I’ll have you dancing up a storm. They’ll be fifty shades of blown away when they see us coming.”
He smiled back at me, taking me into his arms. For the first time ever, I felt the luminosity of our love. When he kissed me finally, we had a tingly glow about us. People were stopping to stare. I didn’t care. I was shimmering now in the dull world I’d just been a part of.
Recently I’ve been toying with the idea of raising the prices of my cheapest books to match the price of the more expensive prices. However, before I do that, I’m going to make sure that they are better…revising, editing them better and having them read-thru by some beta readers, just as if they were brand new novels that no one had ever read before. I’m even toying with the idea of changing/adding to the titles.
But how much is too much for an ebook/novella/short story? With any of these, there are no printing costs, no overhead and although you would make more with having your book priced at a higher price, will people buy it?
According to my husband (disclaimer~he is NOT an expert), in his opinion, pricing your full length book too low (like at the .99 cent level) means that you don’t think enough of your book and therefore, others won’t think much of it either. But, on the other hand, pricing them on the too-high end, does that mean you think you’re the best and that you stand up there with the likes of Stephen King, Ken Follet, Amanda Hocking and Dean Koontz?
So, how do we price our books to get them to sell? What is the answer?
So what’s the right answer? Price them too low and make people think you don’t really like your work, or price them too high as if you’re a bestselling traditionally published author and have low sales? Even successful bestselling authors who are now Indie know that pricing yourself too high will lead to lower book sales.
Bent River Books 