Kinda nervous about this

Alright, so after a lot of thinking and a lot of going back and forth, I've decided to let you guys read the beginning paragraphs of the novel that I'm working on. Please keep in mind that this is just the first draft and a lot of the specifics need to be worked out BUT it's what I have. If you have questions, comments, criticisms, whatever, I'd love to hear it so leave a comment and I'll respond in another post later on. So....yeah. here goes...everything.



The town of Rondy was situated in the center of an island just off the coast of Massachusetts. With a population of only 20,000, Rondy almost never showed up on maps, leaving many to simply forget it existed. In the middle of town was the library with most of it's books donated by either the more wealthier residents or by the larger library on the mainland that didn't have enough room on their shelves. A wide span of grass spread out in front of it; dotted with trees and centered around a fountain featuring a Grecian woman pouring water delicately from a stone pitcher in her arms. Just beyond the park were the shops: Perkin's Grocery, Lucy's Fine Apparel (that sold apparel but nothing anyone would call "fine,") and Hop Up Soda Shop. These three shops were frequented by most of the town as they provided most of the needs anyone in town would have. On the weekends, Hop Up would show a drive-in movie projected onto the back wall.

Rondy continued listlessly further onto the island with more shops and stores, neighborhoods, Benjamin Franklin High School and the Sacred Heart Hospital which employed five doctors and twelve nurses. On the opposite side of the library, backing up so closely to it's rear that if two people were to open the windows, the could speak comfortably without shouting, was City Hall. The mayor, Stewart Patrick, had decided to place the two buildings so close together because of his deep love of books and the fact that he had donated a good portion of the fiction section. City Hall faced quite possibly the most beautiful view in all of Rondy. Short houses rested comfortably on the shallow slope towards the water. The boardwalk lined the shore and met up with row upon row of boats. There was a boat for nearly every citizen of Rondy. Most families owned one or two but the citizens born of fishermen or professional sailors owned three or four. On some nights, when the water is still, the fish aren't biting, and most of the boats had been ported for the night, it was possible to cross over to the mainland by jumping from boat to boat instead of driving over the thin bridge on the edge of town. In the morning when the rising sun brings promise of a better catch or a more suitable condition for sailing, the boats will carefully and slowly slide past each other with the ocean in their sights, pushing just enough to guide their neighbors past them.

More often than not, when it was raining and the sailor's boats are docked, the teenagers would race one another to see who could get across the fastest. The trick is to choose the moat direct route while jumping as few boats as possible. And of course, not to slip and fall into the shimmering water below. Rondy was a quiet town with little to do with the rest of the world. Everyone was kind and helped out when they could. It wasn't until the summer when the lives of four friends would change forever.