I'm 13 years old and am writing a novel. I have been working on it for 3 months. I think the chapters are too short but I don't know what to do to increase them. I also think that the character names don't fit, the book needs a title and I'm stuck.
The characters in the main character's point of view:
My older sister, Willow, or Will, was in 10th grade. She had light brown hair that was always pulled back into a thin ponytail. She never wore jewelry or makeup. All she wore was a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a shirt. Her best subject was Gym. Will was captain of the swimming, volleyball, basketball, track, field hockey, soccer, lacrosse, rugby; you name it she played it. Of course, her grades were low, but it didn’t matter to anyone. They figured she would go off to play professional sports and possible go to an athletics-focused college.
Finally, there is my sister, Cassandra. She was 11 in the 6th grade and the complete opposite of Will. Cassie had long platinum blonde hair that was always in the “in” style. I could never keep up with her clothing because it changed with the trends. Cassie had blue eyes and amazingly clear skin. There was not even a chicken pox scar present. Cassie wore earrings and make up and was the most popular girl in middle school. So popular in fact, that girls from the high school cheerleading squad skipped class to hang out with my sister. Naturally, they got suspended. Cassie was pretty short; only 4’2”, and was involved in the only activities Will wasn’t: cheerleading, dance, and color guard.
Since I couldn’t wear earplugs, I took a bike ride to my friends: Madison and Mackenzie Mill’s house. Madison and Mackenzie are twins but no one, including them, believes it. Madison was a quiet, sweet soprano. She had bright green eyes and long curly auburn hair. She was very thin and pale; she had some health problems when she was a baby. She loved animals and usually sat outside in the park. Madison was more compassionate and wanted to be a teacher or counselor.
Mackenzie was more of a tomboy. She had short blonde hair and brown eyes. She was more muscular than her sister with a nice tan. Mackenzie was an alto who loved to bike and skateboard. She was also an alto. She had hard times thinking before she spoke, and would often get chastised for her attitude
       
I have been working on a book about a 13 year old girl. This girl is shy and quiet. She has twin best friends, Madison and Mackenzie, 2 older siblings,
My parents thought that religion was a waste of time. They used to go to church, but that's before they became rich. They thought that they didn't need a god. I, however, went to church with my two best friends, fraternal twins, Mackenzie and Madison Mills. My family teased me to my face and behind my back just because I’m a Christian. I was left out of family events because they said I was too religious
"Come here right now, Camille Olivia " my mother ordered sharply, grabbing my arm and dragging me roughly into the kitchen. I silently waited for another one of Mom’s outbursts which would conclude with me receiving an unjust punishment and my mother cursing at me.
We arrived at my grandparent’s expecting to see Grandma and Grandpa. We were shocked when Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David answered the door. Peeking behind Uncle Jonathan David’s legs was a small pale head with rosy cheeks. Blonde curls, sapphire eyes, and cute dimples looked shyly at the crowd. Then her eyes stopped searching the sea of faces and settled on me. “Camille!”
Camille has bluish, green, gray eyes and shoulder length brown hair.
Do the names fit?
*********************************************
Here is what I have from my novel
Chapter 1
BRRRING!!!
The school bell rang noisily, shattering my eardrums, as I dashed down the lengthy hallway to my second period Algebra class. My sneakers pitter pattered with a little beat
BRRRIING!!!!!
The bell unexpectedly rang again startling me and causing me to drop my 15 pound Algebra book on my foot. Grabbing my sore foot, the rest of my books toppled out of my arms and landed on the other foot. Wincing from the pain, I slowly gathered up my books. I was in no hurry now. There was nothing my Algebra teacher, Mrs. Jodd, hated more than someone being late to class and I was DEFINENTLY late.
I collected my materials and tried sneak into class. My sneakers were damp from Gym class where we ran non-stop through puddles that appeared during last night’s rainstorm and squeaked piercingly as I stepped through the door. There was a small clattering of pencils dropping from the pupils’ hands and hitting the desks. I could feel the hot stinging glare as 62 eyes were directed at me. Mrs. Jodd pulled her terribly petite glasses to the tip of her long pointed nose. Her gray squinted eyes glared at me.
        “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jodd, I couldn’t get my locker opened,” I cautiously inched my way out of the doorway.
        “Get over here,” Mrs. Jodd twisted my arm vigorously, digging her sharp claw-like nails into my skin, as she pulled me next to her desk. Mrs. Jodd was an old-fashioned teacher and didn’t follow the modern discipline rules. She had started teaching when it was normal for the teachers to slap a pupil sharply on the back of his or her hand with a ruler. She still practiced this in her classroom. There was no chance of her being fired; her grandfather had provided the funding to build the school and she was entitled hereditarily to special privileges, meaning she could get away with anything.
        I cringed recalling the sharp lingering sting from yesterday’s class. I closed my eyes and waited for the torture to end.
        “Your continual tardiness is preventing your fellow peers to learn and gain knowledge that will aid in the mental growth of them which will continue well into adulthood. Because of your irresponsible actions, you are pilfering the education of these innocent students.” Mrs. Jodd sharply yanked my hand and slapped it down on her desk. She pulled out a ruler that seemed to have been sharpened since my last beating. She struck my hand piercingly with the ruler. My hand burned as it went down nonstop for ten minutes. My hand glowed scarlet and the pain was indescribable. I could sympathize with the slaves of the 19th century as far as the whippings went, although the pain for them was probably much greater.
        I could feel my cheeks glow red and my eyes swell with tears. Not because of the stinging pain from the ruler striking my hands, but because of the embarrassment of being punished with 30 pupils gazing at me. I knew that the striking would subside and I would be given a pass, not to the nurse where I longed to go to get Neosporin for the small cuts, but to the most dreaded place in the school: detention. My mom was going to kill me when she discovered that I got detention for the 5th week in a row.
        I was relieved that we didn’t have to do any work, but we had an overload of homework which my classmates blamed me for. I heard my name come up in many muttered conversations with cursing swirled in. I had seven long periods to go and the day seemed like it was getting longer.
“Camille! Answer the question!” my German teacher snapped at me.
I jumped up ten feet. “What question?”
“Camille Jelpex, please pay attention in class,”
Hearing my full name, the class erupted with laughter.
“Since Ruler-Hand is obviously too stupid to know that West Germany was larger than East Germany,” Nadine, a spunky red-haired rival of mine smirked.
        I blushed. The laughter echoed in my head as I tried to melt away into nothing.
Mom and Dad were at work when I got home, My younger sister, Cassie , was out socializing as she usually was after school and my older sister, Will, was at her multiple high school sport practices, so I had a little free time. I clicked on my stereo and started listening to my Relient K. Two Lefts Don’t Make a Right but Three Do CD my best friends gave to me for my 13th birthday. I was unaware that Cassie arrived home. Cassie pretty much ignored me and stayed in her room privately. I was relaxed listening to my music when Mom silently stepped inside.
“Camille!” my mom shouted louder than necessary.
“Yes, Mom?” I answered
“Why are you listening to that religious music again? Shut the horrid thing off NOW!”
“Yes ma’am,” I obediently turned my Relient K. CD off.
Just as I did I was greeted by the sound of Cassie ’s 50 Cent CD. I rummaged through my cluttered desk for some earplugs. After a few moments, I gave up my search, remembering that I wasn’t allowed to use earplugs while Cassie was listening to her music.
Since I couldn’t wear earplugs, I took a bike ride to my friends: Madison and Mackenzie Mill’s house.
I stopped after I had traveled a block north of my house, and pulled out my purple and green cell phone. “Madison, Mackenzie, can you bring your portable boom box, snacks, CD’s, and your Bibles? You can! Great! I’ll see you there,” I hung up and pedaled to the park. I took my time, letting Madison and Mackenzie gather their things. I looked behind me and saw Mackenzie zip by on her skateboard. Madison came behind on her blue razor scooter.
        “Hi Madison! Hey Mackenzie!” I said as we arrived at the park.
“What’s wrong, Cam?” Mackenzie asked me as I set the kickstand to my bike up.
“Nothing really, ‘Mack’,” I hated being called “Cam”, just like Mackenzie hated being called “Mack”.
Mackenzie glared at me. “Don’t call me ‘Mack’!” She looked at me for moment. ”Did I call you ‘Cam’ again? Sorry.” Mackenzie took off her helmet, letting her very short hair fall into place.
Madison, who was brushing out her long curly auburn hair, looked at Mackenzie and me. “Something’s wrong, Camille. I can tell.” That was Madison.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you!” I replied as we sat on the yellowing grass under the old maple tree. “I got detention again.” I brushed a crimson and golden freshly fallen leaf off my head.
“Let me guess, late for algebra again, right?”
“Was it your locker?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yeah, the janitor won’t take the time to fix it,” I sighed.
        “Have you tried getting to class on time and then tell Mrs. Jodd?”
       
        “Yeah, but, I just got in trouble for coming to class unprepared. Let’s face it unless I’m either the perfect student or someone else, I really can’t do anything to keep her from beating me.”
“Something else is wrong, Camille,” Madison took out the portable boom box and started playing her new FFH CD, Still the Cross.
“Fine!” I spilled out the story about my mom yelling at me and Cassie ’s 50 cent CD. I didn’t go into to much detail though.
“We understand, Camille,” Mackenzie told me.
“I know,” but I didn’t think they could. They lived in Christian homes with parents that care about them. How could they understand? Their parents appreciate them for who they are. My parents don’t care that I love to write and that I want to be a teacher in the future. They just don’t care about me.
RRRRINNG
That was my cell phone. My mom called me as I was about to mount my purple and green bicycle. “Hello?”
“Camilla Elizabeth Jelpex,” She screamed an obscenity at me. Inwardly cringing, I stood with the phone next to my ear, quivering. “Come home now!”
Yes ma’am,” I hung up the phone and dashed home. Mrs. Jodd had probably called my mom. Turns out, I was right.
"Come here right now, Camille Olivia Jelpex," my mother ordered sharply, grabbing my arm and dragging me roughly into the kitchen. I silently waited for another one of Mom’s outbursts which would conclude with me receiving an unjust punishment and my mother cursing at me.
“Young lady, your Algebra teacher called me,” my mom said. “Do you know why?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why did she call?”
“I was late for Algebra again,”
“Why were you late?!” Mom roared at me as her face turned redder than the back of my hand which still glowed just as brightly as it did right after my beating.
“My locker is broken,” I knew my excuses wouldn’t work. They never did.
“And you didn’t get it fixed because…?”
“The janitor refuses to do any work.”
“I’ve seen enough of your ugly face today! Go up to your room. Your father and I will discuss your punishment.”
I silently stepped upstairs and into my bedroom. I took out my Bible and opened it to Psalm 124: 8.
“Our help is in the name of the Lord, maker of Heaven and Earth.”
“Dear God, I prayed. “Lately, I feel no one understands me. It really feels like I’m alone. But, I know you will help me and guide me through my trials. Help me be a light shining brightly for you. Help my brother, Matt. He’s fighting a war right now. And Jake, he’s in college right now. Help them find you. My family says they have everything. Help me show them that they are missing the most important thing they need. Help me bring them to you. Amen.”
As I lifted my tear-stained face, I felt better. Somehow, I knew that everything would be okay.
“Camille,” Will peeked into my room.
“Yes?”
“Catch!” Will pelted me with Ping-Pong balls, laughing at me the entire time. Will had great aim and even better force. By the time she left the room, my face was dotted red. I knew she would be back. She always was. Sometimes, she’d do batting practice, aiming the balls at me. At other times, wrestling. I always seemed that Will was using athletics to abuse me. It was bad enough that my teacher and parents did it, but my sister doing it seemed to be too much. Sometimes I just wanted to quit life. But something still kept me going, even at my lowest times.
Chapter 2
“Camille!” my mom yelled. Pack up your suitcase. We’re spending a week at your grandparent’s!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Family trips were never a favorite of mine; especially when we sat in a van for twelve or more hours playing the, “Are we there yet?” game.
Now the grandparent’s I was visiting were on my mom’s side and it showed. They were just as rude to me as my mom was. Once again, I was with people that didn’t care about me. I’m not complaining, but isn’t it hard to stay strong in your faith when you’re alone?
We arrived at my grandparent’s expecting to see Grandma and Grandpa. We were shocked when Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David answered the door. Peeking behind Uncle Jonathan David’s legs was a small pale head with rosy cheeks. Blonde curls, sapphire eyes, and cute dimples looked shyly at the crowd. Then her eyes stopped searching the sea of faces and settled on me. “Camille!”
My four year old cousin Lydia straight to me and gave me the biggest hug her little preschool self could. “Look what I can do!”
Lydia stepped back so I could see her new blue jeans and Jana Alayra T-shirt. She put one of her tiny hands on her hip and pointed her finger up in the air. Then she started shaking her finger and hips and singing at the top of her lungs, “Nothin’, nothin’ absolutely nothin’!
“What can take your love awa-,” I commenced singing before my mom cut me off.
“Young lady, you know the rules, no stinking religious music!”
“Emeline, you still aren’t letting Camille sing? What happened to you after college?”
“Deborah Eve!” my mom snapped. “How I raise my daughter is my business,” Mom started cussing uncontrollably as I cringed, holding a trembling, whimpering Lydia close.
“Please watch your language; we don’t want your bad attitude to influence Lydia negatively.”
“I can speak anyway I want. Besides, there’s a real world out there and it’s not a silly religious place.”
Lydia clung on to me, her face hidden from sight.
“Lydia, sweetheart, why don’t you show Camille your room,”
“Okay, Mommy!”
Lydia eagerly took my hand and proceeded up the staircase. When we were in the room, she picked up an old battered teddy bear. The bear had an AC Moore craft shirt on with the same design as Lydia’s shirt, including Jana Alayra’s signature.
Now, you’re probably wondering where my grand parents were. They were out shopping. They were out shopping. They wanted to have a nice family get together. They should have known there would be a problem. My mom and her sister hate each other. I wish I could live with Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David, but I feel that God needs me to live with my parents and Sisters. After all, if no one is there to witness to them, what will happen on Judgment Day? Will I be to blame if I didn’t take the opportunity I had to witness to them?
My mom was cursing loud enough for us to hear in the bedroom at the other side of the house.
“Ya know what, Lady? If I needed a god, I wouldn’t be the most popular girl in the state. It’s not like that girl who is unfortunately related to us has any value.” Cassie swore at our aunt.
“Camille?” Lydia looked up at me, paralyzed in fear.
“Yes, Lydia?”
“Why is Aunt Emeline being mean to Mommy?”
“I don’t know,” I pulled Lydia closer to me. “But Jesus will make us all happy one day. Someday we will live in Heaven with Jesus and no one will yell and fight.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes. Do you know why?”
Lydia shook her head.
“God said so in the Bible.”
Lydia looked up at me. Then she bowed her small head and folded her hands.
“Dear Jesus, I don’t like it when Aunt Emeline and Uncle Cain yell at Mommy and Daddy. It scares me. I don’t like hearing bad words. Please make it stop .In Jesus’ name, Amen.
The room was silent.
THUD
We heard screams again, but this time, no one was fighting. I could hear panic in the cries of everyone in my family.
“Call 9-1-1! Hurry!” Will cried.
“What’s wrong?” Lydia asked me in terror.
“Let’s find out!” my voice was startlingly calm although streams of terror and confusion ran through my mind.
As we raced down the steps, I saw everyone panicking. Then, I saw the reason for their panic. Grandfather was lying perfectly still on the floor.
“Camille!” Aunt Deborah Eve looked back at me.
“What’s going on?” There was panic in my voice.
“Just get in the car with Lydia, I’ll tell you on the way to the hospital,”
Hospital?! I picked Lydia up and ran to a Honda civic covered in Christian bumper stickers. Just as I opened the door, Will and Cassie fled the house and into our family minivan.
WHEEE-OOOOO
Sirens blared in the distance. They hurriedly became louder. Carrying a stretcher, two men raced inside. Minutes later, they carried Grandfather out. Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David slid into their seats and drove off as they buckled their seatbelts.
“What’s wrong with Grandpa, Mommy?” Lydia asked.
“Girls, your grandfather had a heart attack,”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Grandpa is very sick,”
15 minutes of silence and we were in the hospital. Lydia and Cassie were too young to see Grandfather, so they had to sit in the waiting room. I would’ve gone to see Grandfather, but Lydia was in shock and didn’t want me to leave, so I waited with her.
Half an hour passed when Aunt Deborah Eve came into the waiting area. “Camille, I think it would be best if you go see your grandfather.”
Before I could stand up, a nurse in white scrubs entered the area where we were sitting. “Will the relatives of Mr. Artson come with me please?” The nurse asked.
Cassie leapt out of her seat, but Aunt Deborah Eve grabbed her arm and pulled her down.
“Go on, Camille,” my aunt motioned me forward as she pried Lydia from me.
“Ma’am,” the nurse held me back. “We are lifting the ban on underage children due to special circumstances.
Cassie and Lydia didn’t know what “special circumstances” meant, but, Aunt Deborah Eve and I knew. I could already see tears brim in Aunt Deborah Eve’s eyes. I could tell Cassie knew something was not right but couldn’t get a grip on it. Lydia was confused and she clung on tightly to me.
The four of us walked down the chaotic hallway where we stopped at the hospital’s ICU. Grandfather’s skin was ghastly pale. There was no sign of life in him. Suddenly, the machines stopped beeping. Nurses slowly removed the monitors. There was nothing they could do.
“He’s gone,” one of the nursed said to us.
“No he’s not! He’s right there,” Lydia didn’t understand what the nurse meant.
“Oh my-,” Grandmother turned the same pale color of Grandfather and collapsed on the tiles.
“Grandma! Grandpa!” Lydia cried. “Wake up! Wake up!” But of course, they didn’t wake up.
“Why won’t they wake up?” Lydia looked up at us.
“Honey, Grandma and Grandpa are dead,” Aunt Deborah Eve told Lydia.
Tears rolled down everyone’s face, everyone’s that is except mine. I don’t know why, but I didn’t feel sad or shocked but angry. Not at God, not at my parents, but at me. I know it wasn’t my fault they died, but, I don’t know, I guess that I feel I didn’t witness to them. I know they weren’t true Christians. Will I be to blame because they’re going to Hell?
“Camille?” my aunt looked at me. “Why don’t you take Lydia outside?”
My little cousin grasped my hand as I led her out of the gloomy room.
“Jesus doesn’t love me anymore!” Lydia burst into tears.
“What makes you think that?”
“Grandma and Grandpa are dead and they didn’t love Jesus. I’ll never see them again,” Lydia sniffled.
“What can take your love away?”
“Nothin’, nothin’ absolutely nothin’,” Lydia whispered.
“What can make us separate?”
Lydia’s voice amplified a tad. ““Nothin’, nothin’ absolutely nothin’”
“In death or in life, what’s deep or what’s high, there’s one thing that stays the same,”
“The same,” Lydia echoed.
We commenced singing in unison, “No power or king can do anything to take your love away,”
We were just about to begin another chorus of “nothin’s”, when Aunt Deborah Eve stepped out into the hallway. “Camille, I need to talk to you alone,”
“What’s wrong?” I inquired as I watched Lydia do the nothin’ dance. She hadn’t grasped the fact that our grandparent’s weren’t asleep. Deep down, I knew she thought that God would give them a second chance like he gave Jonah in the Veggie Tales Movie.
“Next Tuesday is the funeral and I feel it would be best if Lydia didn’t’ go,”
I nodded my head.
“I know they’re your grandparents, but I was wondering if you would be willing to baby-sit during the funeral,”
“Sure,” I didn’t mention that I really didn’t want to go to the funeral.
When we left the hospital, we swung by our grandparent’s house and picked up our bags. My mom hated me even more. I half expected mom to blame herself for yelling but all she did was complain about Aunt Deborah Eve, Uncle Jonathan David, Lydia and me.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I felt bad for Mom. I hated to see her so miserable, even if we didn’t get along.
“You better be! If it wasn’t for you, my stupid sister, my idiotic niece, and your uncle they-they-,” Mom stopped yelling and starting sobbing.
The rest of the trip was miserable. Mom was crying, Cassie and Will were listening to 50 Cent and glaring at me, and Dad didn’t do anything. Dad never talked to me. He avoided me as much as he could.
As we drove off into the distance, I knew things would get worse before they got any better.
Chapter 3
        Aunt Deborah Eve didn’t go to the funeral as she planned. She wasn’t feeling well, so Uncle Jonathan David dropped Lydia off at my house. They only lived a couple of miles away so I could have walked over but Aunt Deborah Eve needed her rest and Lydia couldn’t walk that far if I picked her up.
“Can we watch Veggie Tales?” Lydia asked me.
“Sure. Hey, Lydia, what’s coming up this month?”
“The Harvest Festival! Yay!”
Nobody at church Trick or Treats. Instead, they have a Harvest Festival for the kids that the youth usually runs. This year I was going to be the speaker.
“What do you want to be?”
“An angel!”
I grabbed a sewing book and examined the angel costume.
“I don’t like that, Camille,”
I just smiled. “What do you like?”
Lydia looked at me thoughtfully. “Veggie Tales!”
“Let’s see,” I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. “Who could you be?
“Larry-Boy, Larry the Cucumber, Bob the Tomato, Laura the Carrot,”
“Who do you lie best?”
“Laura!”
“What do we need to make Laura?”
“I don’t know,”
“Well, we’ll need a purple sweat suit for the body,”
“Laura’s not purple!” Lydia laughed. “She’s orange!”
“Silly me,” I wrote down orange sweat suit, face paint and 8 brown elastics”
I popped in a Veggie Tales video and started to make Lydia’s costume.
On the night of the Harvest Festival, I walked over to Lydia’s house and helped her with her costume. First, I had her put on an orange sweat suit, orange socks, and orange shoes. Then I put her hair in two pony tales with elastics down them to make “Laura braids”. Finally, I painted her face orange and added 3 freckles on both of her cheeks.
I was a microphone. I used a ski cap to make the “head” and a gray sweat suit for the body. It was fairly easy to do.
Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David dressed up as Mary and Joseph. They looked just like the picture in Lydia’s Bible, only, they weren’t a cartoon drawing.
The four of us went to the harvest festival together. Will and Cassie were at the “Ghoul and Ghost” dance at the high school probably doing stuff like drinking and just getting away with things that make me SICK to even mention.
“Lydia hopped out of the car and continued hopping up the church parking lot. “Good morning George, how are you?” Lydia sang energetically.
I plopped a “bunny factory hat” on Lydia’s head and gave her a chocolate bunny. Then, I gave her a truck made out of a cardboard box with little boxes that looked like they had chocolate bunnies in them even thought they were empty so they could hold candy. I helped Lydia put on her truck as we continued up to the church.
I walked up onto the stage and up to a microphone that I had decorated to look like a person.
“Ya know what kiddies?”
“What?” the kids shouted back.
“I’m tired of people singing and talking into me. Don’t they know what a toothbrush is? P.U.!”
Everyone chuckled.
“Now it’s a person’s turn to know what it feels like to smell bad breath,”
Madison was behind the curtain providing the voice of the microphone, “P.U., Mike, you have some STANKY breath.”
Mackenzie and the rest of the youth taped shapes of different colored construction paper into large circles. She looked up at me. I looked at the group of kids. Most had costumes, but some, however, did not. I gave them the signal to continue.
“Okay, kids!” I picked up the microphone. I need everyone who is dressed up as a TV or movie character to go into the red circle. I want whoever is dressed up as a grown-up at work to go into the green circle. If you are a toy or other object, go into the blue circle. I need all animals in the yellow circle.”
It took a few moments to get everyone situated. Four kids, two boys and two girls were left out of the circles. Mackenzie and the rest of the youth group put the kids in separate groups.
The characters in the main character's point of view:
My older sister, Willow, or Will, was in 10th grade. She had light brown hair that was always pulled back into a thin ponytail. She never wore jewelry or makeup. All she wore was a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a shirt. Her best subject was Gym. Will was captain of the swimming, volleyball, basketball, track, field hockey, soccer, lacrosse, rugby; you name it she played it. Of course, her grades were low, but it didn’t matter to anyone. They figured she would go off to play professional sports and possible go to an athletics-focused college.
Finally, there is my sister, Cassandra. She was 11 in the 6th grade and the complete opposite of Will. Cassie had long platinum blonde hair that was always in the “in” style. I could never keep up with her clothing because it changed with the trends. Cassie had blue eyes and amazingly clear skin. There was not even a chicken pox scar present. Cassie wore earrings and make up and was the most popular girl in middle school. So popular in fact, that girls from the high school cheerleading squad skipped class to hang out with my sister. Naturally, they got suspended. Cassie was pretty short; only 4’2”, and was involved in the only activities Will wasn’t: cheerleading, dance, and color guard.
Since I couldn’t wear earplugs, I took a bike ride to my friends: Madison and Mackenzie Mill’s house. Madison and Mackenzie are twins but no one, including them, believes it. Madison was a quiet, sweet soprano. She had bright green eyes and long curly auburn hair. She was very thin and pale; she had some health problems when she was a baby. She loved animals and usually sat outside in the park. Madison was more compassionate and wanted to be a teacher or counselor.
Mackenzie was more of a tomboy. She had short blonde hair and brown eyes. She was more muscular than her sister with a nice tan. Mackenzie was an alto who loved to bike and skateboard. She was also an alto. She had hard times thinking before she spoke, and would often get chastised for her attitude
       
I have been working on a book about a 13 year old girl. This girl is shy and quiet. She has twin best friends, Madison and Mackenzie, 2 older siblings,
My parents thought that religion was a waste of time. They used to go to church, but that's before they became rich. They thought that they didn't need a god. I, however, went to church with my two best friends, fraternal twins, Mackenzie and Madison Mills. My family teased me to my face and behind my back just because I’m a Christian. I was left out of family events because they said I was too religious
"Come here right now, Camille Olivia " my mother ordered sharply, grabbing my arm and dragging me roughly into the kitchen. I silently waited for another one of Mom’s outbursts which would conclude with me receiving an unjust punishment and my mother cursing at me.
We arrived at my grandparent’s expecting to see Grandma and Grandpa. We were shocked when Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David answered the door. Peeking behind Uncle Jonathan David’s legs was a small pale head with rosy cheeks. Blonde curls, sapphire eyes, and cute dimples looked shyly at the crowd. Then her eyes stopped searching the sea of faces and settled on me. “Camille!”
Camille has bluish, green, gray eyes and shoulder length brown hair.
Do the names fit?
*********************************************
Here is what I have from my novel
Chapter 1
BRRRING!!!
The school bell rang noisily, shattering my eardrums, as I dashed down the lengthy hallway to my second period Algebra class. My sneakers pitter pattered with a little beat
BRRRIING!!!!!
The bell unexpectedly rang again startling me and causing me to drop my 15 pound Algebra book on my foot. Grabbing my sore foot, the rest of my books toppled out of my arms and landed on the other foot. Wincing from the pain, I slowly gathered up my books. I was in no hurry now. There was nothing my Algebra teacher, Mrs. Jodd, hated more than someone being late to class and I was DEFINENTLY late.
I collected my materials and tried sneak into class. My sneakers were damp from Gym class where we ran non-stop through puddles that appeared during last night’s rainstorm and squeaked piercingly as I stepped through the door. There was a small clattering of pencils dropping from the pupils’ hands and hitting the desks. I could feel the hot stinging glare as 62 eyes were directed at me. Mrs. Jodd pulled her terribly petite glasses to the tip of her long pointed nose. Her gray squinted eyes glared at me.
        “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jodd, I couldn’t get my locker opened,” I cautiously inched my way out of the doorway.
        “Get over here,” Mrs. Jodd twisted my arm vigorously, digging her sharp claw-like nails into my skin, as she pulled me next to her desk. Mrs. Jodd was an old-fashioned teacher and didn’t follow the modern discipline rules. She had started teaching when it was normal for the teachers to slap a pupil sharply on the back of his or her hand with a ruler. She still practiced this in her classroom. There was no chance of her being fired; her grandfather had provided the funding to build the school and she was entitled hereditarily to special privileges, meaning she could get away with anything.
        I cringed recalling the sharp lingering sting from yesterday’s class. I closed my eyes and waited for the torture to end.
        “Your continual tardiness is preventing your fellow peers to learn and gain knowledge that will aid in the mental growth of them which will continue well into adulthood. Because of your irresponsible actions, you are pilfering the education of these innocent students.” Mrs. Jodd sharply yanked my hand and slapped it down on her desk. She pulled out a ruler that seemed to have been sharpened since my last beating. She struck my hand piercingly with the ruler. My hand burned as it went down nonstop for ten minutes. My hand glowed scarlet and the pain was indescribable. I could sympathize with the slaves of the 19th century as far as the whippings went, although the pain for them was probably much greater.
        I could feel my cheeks glow red and my eyes swell with tears. Not because of the stinging pain from the ruler striking my hands, but because of the embarrassment of being punished with 30 pupils gazing at me. I knew that the striking would subside and I would be given a pass, not to the nurse where I longed to go to get Neosporin for the small cuts, but to the most dreaded place in the school: detention. My mom was going to kill me when she discovered that I got detention for the 5th week in a row.
        I was relieved that we didn’t have to do any work, but we had an overload of homework which my classmates blamed me for. I heard my name come up in many muttered conversations with cursing swirled in. I had seven long periods to go and the day seemed like it was getting longer.
“Camille! Answer the question!” my German teacher snapped at me.
I jumped up ten feet. “What question?”
“Camille Jelpex, please pay attention in class,”
Hearing my full name, the class erupted with laughter.
“Since Ruler-Hand is obviously too stupid to know that West Germany was larger than East Germany,” Nadine, a spunky red-haired rival of mine smirked.
        I blushed. The laughter echoed in my head as I tried to melt away into nothing.
Mom and Dad were at work when I got home, My younger sister, Cassie , was out socializing as she usually was after school and my older sister, Will, was at her multiple high school sport practices, so I had a little free time. I clicked on my stereo and started listening to my Relient K. Two Lefts Don’t Make a Right but Three Do CD my best friends gave to me for my 13th birthday. I was unaware that Cassie arrived home. Cassie pretty much ignored me and stayed in her room privately. I was relaxed listening to my music when Mom silently stepped inside.
“Camille!” my mom shouted louder than necessary.
“Yes, Mom?” I answered
“Why are you listening to that religious music again? Shut the horrid thing off NOW!”
“Yes ma’am,” I obediently turned my Relient K. CD off.
Just as I did I was greeted by the sound of Cassie ’s 50 Cent CD. I rummaged through my cluttered desk for some earplugs. After a few moments, I gave up my search, remembering that I wasn’t allowed to use earplugs while Cassie was listening to her music.
Since I couldn’t wear earplugs, I took a bike ride to my friends: Madison and Mackenzie Mill’s house.
I stopped after I had traveled a block north of my house, and pulled out my purple and green cell phone. “Madison, Mackenzie, can you bring your portable boom box, snacks, CD’s, and your Bibles? You can! Great! I’ll see you there,” I hung up and pedaled to the park. I took my time, letting Madison and Mackenzie gather their things. I looked behind me and saw Mackenzie zip by on her skateboard. Madison came behind on her blue razor scooter.
        “Hi Madison! Hey Mackenzie!” I said as we arrived at the park.
“What’s wrong, Cam?” Mackenzie asked me as I set the kickstand to my bike up.
“Nothing really, ‘Mack’,” I hated being called “Cam”, just like Mackenzie hated being called “Mack”.
Mackenzie glared at me. “Don’t call me ‘Mack’!” She looked at me for moment. ”Did I call you ‘Cam’ again? Sorry.” Mackenzie took off her helmet, letting her very short hair fall into place.
Madison, who was brushing out her long curly auburn hair, looked at Mackenzie and me. “Something’s wrong, Camille. I can tell.” That was Madison.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you!” I replied as we sat on the yellowing grass under the old maple tree. “I got detention again.” I brushed a crimson and golden freshly fallen leaf off my head.
“Let me guess, late for algebra again, right?”
“Was it your locker?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yeah, the janitor won’t take the time to fix it,” I sighed.
        “Have you tried getting to class on time and then tell Mrs. Jodd?”
       
        “Yeah, but, I just got in trouble for coming to class unprepared. Let’s face it unless I’m either the perfect student or someone else, I really can’t do anything to keep her from beating me.”
“Something else is wrong, Camille,” Madison took out the portable boom box and started playing her new FFH CD, Still the Cross.
“Fine!” I spilled out the story about my mom yelling at me and Cassie ’s 50 cent CD. I didn’t go into to much detail though.
“We understand, Camille,” Mackenzie told me.
“I know,” but I didn’t think they could. They lived in Christian homes with parents that care about them. How could they understand? Their parents appreciate them for who they are. My parents don’t care that I love to write and that I want to be a teacher in the future. They just don’t care about me.
RRRRINNG
That was my cell phone. My mom called me as I was about to mount my purple and green bicycle. “Hello?”
“Camilla Elizabeth Jelpex,” She screamed an obscenity at me. Inwardly cringing, I stood with the phone next to my ear, quivering. “Come home now!”
Yes ma’am,” I hung up the phone and dashed home. Mrs. Jodd had probably called my mom. Turns out, I was right.
"Come here right now, Camille Olivia Jelpex," my mother ordered sharply, grabbing my arm and dragging me roughly into the kitchen. I silently waited for another one of Mom’s outbursts which would conclude with me receiving an unjust punishment and my mother cursing at me.
“Young lady, your Algebra teacher called me,” my mom said. “Do you know why?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why did she call?”
“I was late for Algebra again,”
“Why were you late?!” Mom roared at me as her face turned redder than the back of my hand which still glowed just as brightly as it did right after my beating.
“My locker is broken,” I knew my excuses wouldn’t work. They never did.
“And you didn’t get it fixed because…?”
“The janitor refuses to do any work.”
“I’ve seen enough of your ugly face today! Go up to your room. Your father and I will discuss your punishment.”
I silently stepped upstairs and into my bedroom. I took out my Bible and opened it to Psalm 124: 8.
“Our help is in the name of the Lord, maker of Heaven and Earth.”
“Dear God, I prayed. “Lately, I feel no one understands me. It really feels like I’m alone. But, I know you will help me and guide me through my trials. Help me be a light shining brightly for you. Help my brother, Matt. He’s fighting a war right now. And Jake, he’s in college right now. Help them find you. My family says they have everything. Help me show them that they are missing the most important thing they need. Help me bring them to you. Amen.”
As I lifted my tear-stained face, I felt better. Somehow, I knew that everything would be okay.
“Camille,” Will peeked into my room.
“Yes?”
“Catch!” Will pelted me with Ping-Pong balls, laughing at me the entire time. Will had great aim and even better force. By the time she left the room, my face was dotted red. I knew she would be back. She always was. Sometimes, she’d do batting practice, aiming the balls at me. At other times, wrestling. I always seemed that Will was using athletics to abuse me. It was bad enough that my teacher and parents did it, but my sister doing it seemed to be too much. Sometimes I just wanted to quit life. But something still kept me going, even at my lowest times.
Chapter 2
“Camille!” my mom yelled. Pack up your suitcase. We’re spending a week at your grandparent’s!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Family trips were never a favorite of mine; especially when we sat in a van for twelve or more hours playing the, “Are we there yet?” game.
Now the grandparent’s I was visiting were on my mom’s side and it showed. They were just as rude to me as my mom was. Once again, I was with people that didn’t care about me. I’m not complaining, but isn’t it hard to stay strong in your faith when you’re alone?
We arrived at my grandparent’s expecting to see Grandma and Grandpa. We were shocked when Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David answered the door. Peeking behind Uncle Jonathan David’s legs was a small pale head with rosy cheeks. Blonde curls, sapphire eyes, and cute dimples looked shyly at the crowd. Then her eyes stopped searching the sea of faces and settled on me. “Camille!”
My four year old cousin Lydia straight to me and gave me the biggest hug her little preschool self could. “Look what I can do!”
Lydia stepped back so I could see her new blue jeans and Jana Alayra T-shirt. She put one of her tiny hands on her hip and pointed her finger up in the air. Then she started shaking her finger and hips and singing at the top of her lungs, “Nothin’, nothin’ absolutely nothin’!
“What can take your love awa-,” I commenced singing before my mom cut me off.
“Young lady, you know the rules, no stinking religious music!”
“Emeline, you still aren’t letting Camille sing? What happened to you after college?”
“Deborah Eve!” my mom snapped. “How I raise my daughter is my business,” Mom started cussing uncontrollably as I cringed, holding a trembling, whimpering Lydia close.
“Please watch your language; we don’t want your bad attitude to influence Lydia negatively.”
“I can speak anyway I want. Besides, there’s a real world out there and it’s not a silly religious place.”
Lydia clung on to me, her face hidden from sight.
“Lydia, sweetheart, why don’t you show Camille your room,”
“Okay, Mommy!”
Lydia eagerly took my hand and proceeded up the staircase. When we were in the room, she picked up an old battered teddy bear. The bear had an AC Moore craft shirt on with the same design as Lydia’s shirt, including Jana Alayra’s signature.
Now, you’re probably wondering where my grand parents were. They were out shopping. They were out shopping. They wanted to have a nice family get together. They should have known there would be a problem. My mom and her sister hate each other. I wish I could live with Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David, but I feel that God needs me to live with my parents and Sisters. After all, if no one is there to witness to them, what will happen on Judgment Day? Will I be to blame if I didn’t take the opportunity I had to witness to them?
My mom was cursing loud enough for us to hear in the bedroom at the other side of the house.
“Ya know what, Lady? If I needed a god, I wouldn’t be the most popular girl in the state. It’s not like that girl who is unfortunately related to us has any value.” Cassie swore at our aunt.
“Camille?” Lydia looked up at me, paralyzed in fear.
“Yes, Lydia?”
“Why is Aunt Emeline being mean to Mommy?”
“I don’t know,” I pulled Lydia closer to me. “But Jesus will make us all happy one day. Someday we will live in Heaven with Jesus and no one will yell and fight.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes. Do you know why?”
Lydia shook her head.
“God said so in the Bible.”
Lydia looked up at me. Then she bowed her small head and folded her hands.
“Dear Jesus, I don’t like it when Aunt Emeline and Uncle Cain yell at Mommy and Daddy. It scares me. I don’t like hearing bad words. Please make it stop .In Jesus’ name, Amen.
The room was silent.
THUD
We heard screams again, but this time, no one was fighting. I could hear panic in the cries of everyone in my family.
“Call 9-1-1! Hurry!” Will cried.
“What’s wrong?” Lydia asked me in terror.
“Let’s find out!” my voice was startlingly calm although streams of terror and confusion ran through my mind.
As we raced down the steps, I saw everyone panicking. Then, I saw the reason for their panic. Grandfather was lying perfectly still on the floor.
“Camille!” Aunt Deborah Eve looked back at me.
“What’s going on?” There was panic in my voice.
“Just get in the car with Lydia, I’ll tell you on the way to the hospital,”
Hospital?! I picked Lydia up and ran to a Honda civic covered in Christian bumper stickers. Just as I opened the door, Will and Cassie fled the house and into our family minivan.
WHEEE-OOOOO
Sirens blared in the distance. They hurriedly became louder. Carrying a stretcher, two men raced inside. Minutes later, they carried Grandfather out. Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David slid into their seats and drove off as they buckled their seatbelts.
“What’s wrong with Grandpa, Mommy?” Lydia asked.
“Girls, your grandfather had a heart attack,”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Grandpa is very sick,”
15 minutes of silence and we were in the hospital. Lydia and Cassie were too young to see Grandfather, so they had to sit in the waiting room. I would’ve gone to see Grandfather, but Lydia was in shock and didn’t want me to leave, so I waited with her.
Half an hour passed when Aunt Deborah Eve came into the waiting area. “Camille, I think it would be best if you go see your grandfather.”
Before I could stand up, a nurse in white scrubs entered the area where we were sitting. “Will the relatives of Mr. Artson come with me please?” The nurse asked.
Cassie leapt out of her seat, but Aunt Deborah Eve grabbed her arm and pulled her down.
“Go on, Camille,” my aunt motioned me forward as she pried Lydia from me.
“Ma’am,” the nurse held me back. “We are lifting the ban on underage children due to special circumstances.
Cassie and Lydia didn’t know what “special circumstances” meant, but, Aunt Deborah Eve and I knew. I could already see tears brim in Aunt Deborah Eve’s eyes. I could tell Cassie knew something was not right but couldn’t get a grip on it. Lydia was confused and she clung on tightly to me.
The four of us walked down the chaotic hallway where we stopped at the hospital’s ICU. Grandfather’s skin was ghastly pale. There was no sign of life in him. Suddenly, the machines stopped beeping. Nurses slowly removed the monitors. There was nothing they could do.
“He’s gone,” one of the nursed said to us.
“No he’s not! He’s right there,” Lydia didn’t understand what the nurse meant.
“Oh my-,” Grandmother turned the same pale color of Grandfather and collapsed on the tiles.
“Grandma! Grandpa!” Lydia cried. “Wake up! Wake up!” But of course, they didn’t wake up.
“Why won’t they wake up?” Lydia looked up at us.
“Honey, Grandma and Grandpa are dead,” Aunt Deborah Eve told Lydia.
Tears rolled down everyone’s face, everyone’s that is except mine. I don’t know why, but I didn’t feel sad or shocked but angry. Not at God, not at my parents, but at me. I know it wasn’t my fault they died, but, I don’t know, I guess that I feel I didn’t witness to them. I know they weren’t true Christians. Will I be to blame because they’re going to Hell?
“Camille?” my aunt looked at me. “Why don’t you take Lydia outside?”
My little cousin grasped my hand as I led her out of the gloomy room.
“Jesus doesn’t love me anymore!” Lydia burst into tears.
“What makes you think that?”
“Grandma and Grandpa are dead and they didn’t love Jesus. I’ll never see them again,” Lydia sniffled.
“What can take your love away?”
“Nothin’, nothin’ absolutely nothin’,” Lydia whispered.
“What can make us separate?”
Lydia’s voice amplified a tad. ““Nothin’, nothin’ absolutely nothin’”
“In death or in life, what’s deep or what’s high, there’s one thing that stays the same,”
“The same,” Lydia echoed.
We commenced singing in unison, “No power or king can do anything to take your love away,”
We were just about to begin another chorus of “nothin’s”, when Aunt Deborah Eve stepped out into the hallway. “Camille, I need to talk to you alone,”
“What’s wrong?” I inquired as I watched Lydia do the nothin’ dance. She hadn’t grasped the fact that our grandparent’s weren’t asleep. Deep down, I knew she thought that God would give them a second chance like he gave Jonah in the Veggie Tales Movie.
“Next Tuesday is the funeral and I feel it would be best if Lydia didn’t’ go,”
I nodded my head.
“I know they’re your grandparents, but I was wondering if you would be willing to baby-sit during the funeral,”
“Sure,” I didn’t mention that I really didn’t want to go to the funeral.
When we left the hospital, we swung by our grandparent’s house and picked up our bags. My mom hated me even more. I half expected mom to blame herself for yelling but all she did was complain about Aunt Deborah Eve, Uncle Jonathan David, Lydia and me.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I felt bad for Mom. I hated to see her so miserable, even if we didn’t get along.
“You better be! If it wasn’t for you, my stupid sister, my idiotic niece, and your uncle they-they-,” Mom stopped yelling and starting sobbing.
The rest of the trip was miserable. Mom was crying, Cassie and Will were listening to 50 Cent and glaring at me, and Dad didn’t do anything. Dad never talked to me. He avoided me as much as he could.
As we drove off into the distance, I knew things would get worse before they got any better.
Chapter 3
        Aunt Deborah Eve didn’t go to the funeral as she planned. She wasn’t feeling well, so Uncle Jonathan David dropped Lydia off at my house. They only lived a couple of miles away so I could have walked over but Aunt Deborah Eve needed her rest and Lydia couldn’t walk that far if I picked her up.
“Can we watch Veggie Tales?” Lydia asked me.
“Sure. Hey, Lydia, what’s coming up this month?”
“The Harvest Festival! Yay!”
Nobody at church Trick or Treats. Instead, they have a Harvest Festival for the kids that the youth usually runs. This year I was going to be the speaker.
“What do you want to be?”
“An angel!”
I grabbed a sewing book and examined the angel costume.
“I don’t like that, Camille,”
I just smiled. “What do you like?”
Lydia looked at me thoughtfully. “Veggie Tales!”
“Let’s see,” I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. “Who could you be?
“Larry-Boy, Larry the Cucumber, Bob the Tomato, Laura the Carrot,”
“Who do you lie best?”
“Laura!”
“What do we need to make Laura?”
“I don’t know,”
“Well, we’ll need a purple sweat suit for the body,”
“Laura’s not purple!” Lydia laughed. “She’s orange!”
“Silly me,” I wrote down orange sweat suit, face paint and 8 brown elastics”
I popped in a Veggie Tales video and started to make Lydia’s costume.
On the night of the Harvest Festival, I walked over to Lydia’s house and helped her with her costume. First, I had her put on an orange sweat suit, orange socks, and orange shoes. Then I put her hair in two pony tales with elastics down them to make “Laura braids”. Finally, I painted her face orange and added 3 freckles on both of her cheeks.
I was a microphone. I used a ski cap to make the “head” and a gray sweat suit for the body. It was fairly easy to do.
Aunt Deborah Eve and Uncle Jonathan David dressed up as Mary and Joseph. They looked just like the picture in Lydia’s Bible, only, they weren’t a cartoon drawing.
The four of us went to the harvest festival together. Will and Cassie were at the “Ghoul and Ghost” dance at the high school probably doing stuff like drinking and just getting away with things that make me SICK to even mention.
“Lydia hopped out of the car and continued hopping up the church parking lot. “Good morning George, how are you?” Lydia sang energetically.
I plopped a “bunny factory hat” on Lydia’s head and gave her a chocolate bunny. Then, I gave her a truck made out of a cardboard box with little boxes that looked like they had chocolate bunnies in them even thought they were empty so they could hold candy. I helped Lydia put on her truck as we continued up to the church.
I walked up onto the stage and up to a microphone that I had decorated to look like a person.
“Ya know what kiddies?”
“What?” the kids shouted back.
“I’m tired of people singing and talking into me. Don’t they know what a toothbrush is? P.U.!”
Everyone chuckled.
“Now it’s a person’s turn to know what it feels like to smell bad breath,”
Madison was behind the curtain providing the voice of the microphone, “P.U., Mike, you have some STANKY breath.”
Mackenzie and the rest of the youth taped shapes of different colored construction paper into large circles. She looked up at me. I looked at the group of kids. Most had costumes, but some, however, did not. I gave them the signal to continue.
“Okay, kids!” I picked up the microphone. I need everyone who is dressed up as a TV or movie character to go into the red circle. I want whoever is dressed up as a grown-up at work to go into the green circle. If you are a toy or other object, go into the blue circle. I need all animals in the yellow circle.”
It took a few moments to get everyone situated. Four kids, two boys and two girls were left out of the circles. Mackenzie and the rest of the youth group put the kids in separate groups.
