Alrighty. I want to rephrase. I realize fifteen plus characters is a lot to keep track of, and I'd rather have fewer characters and have each of them receive my careful, undivided author's attention, allowing for individual storylines and maximum character growth. So I've decided to keep it to 5 girls and five boys. Since my character is a girl, that lowers the chances of your female OC being accepted. That doesn't mean you CAN'T still submit a girl, it just means you might not get in. Come on. I need dudes.
So, I thought I'd give another preview chapter (and I'm extending the OC contest to Friday, because I'm worried I won't get enough). Don't worry, they won't all be so short.
Chapter Two
The quiet drumming of rain on the roof may have kindly allowed Cleo to remain in her shadowy dreamscape, but the powerful crash of thunder that followed was not so forgiving. It shook through her, pulsing in her bloodstream and reverberating in her chest. She opened her eyes and gazed out the window from her bed, where rain battered the glass, keeping it glistening with a constant film of water. A quick glance at the sundial on her windowsill confirmed-absolutely nothing, forcing the tired teen to rise from her bed in search of the time.
Padding silently through the empty house, she made her way to the small kitchen, where a note was pinned to the wall, which was severely pockmarked from previous correspondences. The most recent note was scrawled in the messy handwriting of her constantly-behind-schedule father, reading simply, home late, visit mom 5, cab money under mug.
Peeking under the mug in question, Cleo snagged the twenty and retreated to the bathroom to get ready for the first day of school. Flipping on the lights, she snatched her brush and ran it through her dark blonde hair a few times before dropping it back on the sink. The plastic handle clinked against the gray marble, making her cringe. In the perpetually empty house, everything seemed so much louder.
A quick glance in the mirror showed her to be even paler than usual, but her gray eyes were bright, framed by long, dark lashes. Her poor sleep manifested in dark circles beneath them.
Cleo frowned and gently prodded the puffy skin, wincing slightly as she did. The dark puffiness did not magically disappear.
Wilting, she fluttered out of the bathroom and back to the mirrorless safety of her pale blue-gray bedroom, stopping to add a dab of paint to the canvas currently occupying her easel. It displayed a magnificent, if half-finished, painting of a stormy beach.
Trying her best to banish the reflection of herself from her mind, Cleo pulled on a flippy gray skirt and a deep blue v-neck, glancing at the clock on her phone as she did so. Panic bells rang in her head- school started in ten minutes.
Cleo zoomed out of her room, pulling her messenger bag off the bed as she did and flinging her phone into it before sliding into a pair of beaten-up combat boots and flying down the stairs, past the doorman, Charles, and out onto the streets of L.A before realizing she had no ride and it was still thundering.
Spinning wildly, she approached the old doorman, who was already brandishing an umbrella and gesturing to a limo with his free hand.
She groaned. "Tell me there's a cab for me waiting behind that."
"Sorry, miss. Your father ordered it himself."
Letting out a wail of desperation, she dashed across the sidewalk and flung herself into the back seat, tumbling head over boots before smacking into the opposite door. The driver gave her an amused glance before pulling off into the street.
"Rough morning, Miss Sylen?"
She growled. "Pardon me, but I'm going to be a pissy bitch today, sir."
He chuckled. "I'm used to it."
"Hey!"
"Kidding, miss."