Bonjour. Tu veux de la crêpe? Well, il y a un décrochage dans la voie!

I'm currently running out of time, and that is why, I'll come straight to the point.

||Warning: Seriously boring content ahead. If you still want to continue, you deserve loads of love from us ||

• I re-did Chapter 1 of "Live or Let Go", trying to improve the grammar errors and sentence structures. Plus, placed in some more detail as well.
I'll be uploading the new version here, compare it with the previous one, which is up there in the Book "Live or Let Go", right there on our profile.

Please tell which one is better, and provides a clearer understanding.

Chapter 1

It was not some random Sunday morning. Instead of getting into my walking gear and spending the morning doing somersaults and trying new yoga steps from some YouTube channel featuring Alexys Gabrielle, I am stuck with my art kit.

There are two paintbrushes on the table, one with a thin tip, the other slightly broad. At one corner of the table is a small white container filled with tap water, which I used time and again to blend the colors to get an accurate face tone. Besides two rough pages is my sketch book, eraser crumbs scattered here and there.

The hair look a flawless Cameron brown; my new Derwent water color pencils have shown their magic perfectly. The length of the forehead is somehow accurate, first time since the last four tries, but the nose seems way too round. It wasn't meant to be as round as this.

Another failed attempt.

I crumble the off-white paper into a ball and point towards the black dust-bin at the far left side of my room. I take a moment. I again stare at the creased Cameron Dallas with a disappointed look. If Cameron gets to see this, he would literally die.

The peach marker has been doubled at the wrong places, and the face highlights look too weird.

Into the bin. A perfect shot.

The clock above my bed ticks 2 p.m. Aunt Sasha gifted this clock last Christmas, when she flew all the way from Canada so she could 'hug her favourite niece'. She had always been the odd one. Going all antique, all the time.

"Just look at this. This is so beautiful, and the color looks so dusty, like it still holds the magic of the old times. And do you see those carved points at the corners? They are carved manually. Perfection! You are so lucky to have this. I'd love to see this hanging in your room when I visit the next time," she had said while placing the clock between the big pile of gift boxes.

2 p.m. means lunch time. I am in no mood to have lunch at home. To be more honest, I am in no mood to fall into another weird conversation with Mom and Dad.

At dinner last night, I had asked Mom if I could get some new wallpaper on my room. A MAGCON one. But she had immediately turned into an 'only-class-means-to-me' person, telling me how singers and entertainers came from low status families and that they were no one to idealize. "Tryna, I never knew someone like you would get into this fandom thing. How low."

And the worst thing was when Dad's phone had rung and he, without any feeling that they were having a 'family-dinner', had excused himself and left. He was the one who had made the rule that all cell phones were supposed to be on silent during lunch. And wow, being the first to break it himself? I could not help but appreciate his efforts.

Dustyn had been a real villain too. He had mimicked Cameron's name in a high pitched, girly voice, and that was enough. Considering it my turn to break rules, I had pulled a quite immature face, so not suitable for a 17 year old, and had run up to my room.

I am going to break rules today, again. No lunch at home. I pick up my iPhone and text Stassie and Mahogany to meet up at Scooter's.

I had met Stassie in Freshman year, when Carla Beer, my best friend from Kindergarten had dumped me for some new exchange student from Greece. I had been way too grumpy, pacing here and there in my art class. Stassie had worked with me that day; Miss Gilinsky, our art teacher, had peered us up, and we had spent the lesson painting pots. Stassie and I had discussed art stuff and she had also confessed how she used to think food colour was made out of colour pencils. At lunch, Stassie and Mahogany; Stassie's friend, had invited me to lunch. Since then, we had done everything a typical girl would do, from wearing friendship bracelets to shopping together.

In what are around 5 seconds, Mahogany answers with a "will be there in 10" and Stas replies "c you there."

I pull over my blue shirt with the white sweater I bought two weeks ago from Sears and get hold of my black CK skinny leggings. Observing myself in the mirror, I can tell these brown stacked booties look way too good on me than Giorgia Caldarulo.
I hated Giorgia. What did Cameron even see in her?

I had fallen for Cameron Dallas three years back, when he was a 20 year old viner. Carla had introduced me to this MAGCON thing, telling how Taylor Caniff was so great and all. I had googled them all and Cameron Dallas's perfection had hooked me up. Since then, I had made a fan page, a blog, a personal website, plus had been listening to my Parent's long speeches and still no notice from Cameron. Could someone be meaner than that?

I walk over to the drawer, trying to find my phone cover and car keys. Both have a perfect T & C scribbled on them and they are actually precious. Not there. I rummage through random stuff in my closet, peek up there on the white hangers near the door, but no good.

Never mind, I can go without the cover and I have spare keys inside my printer.

||

I shut the driver door of my black Kia Forte and enter Scooter's drive-way.

The entrance is jammed. My agoraphobia clings to me strongly and despite my attempts to control myself, I am glued to the ground, unable to move. That's when a red Honda parks beside my car, and Mahogany steps out. She has successfully covered the pale stain on her white adidas top by a green jacket; she had spilled kiss-proof lip stick there once at my place. She shakes her red locks and smiles so wide that her eyes actually close.

"What's up?" she says.

"Uh, was waiting for you to pull up. Guess Stas is already in there, I see her car. Let's get going?"

When we successfully enter inside, I feel braver than Superman.

Scooter's is filled with all kinds of people. At the table besides the entrance sits a group of hipster men, with solitaire cards on the table. Gross. At one table sits a family so much like Horrid Henry's family, that kid on Cartoon Network who's only hobby is to annoy his poor brother. One of the boys is the most decent Momma's boy ever whereas the other is a real mess. What's more amazing is a boy whose date partner is a big greyhound. Didn't the door say "No Dogs"?

We notice Stas sitting at the very end, interestingly, with Horrid Henry's family. We greet her and sit, staring at the menus. The waiter approaches and asks for the order. They don't even give time to choose. I order a plate of steak salad with peach juice. Perfect idea for today.

"Wasn't this lunch too sudden? I have a manicure appointment in less than an hour." Stassie says.

"You just had one a week back!" Mahogany rolls her eyes.

"Didn't feel like eating at home. Any party coming Stas?" I ask. Stassie was absolutely serious about good-looks.

"You got me. I'm planning to throw one next week. But if I'm not done with getting new streaks before that, I'll procrastinate for sure."

Mahogany and I exchange looks.

"Yes Stas. Why not," Mahogany says, "What's new?"

My juice is too cold. I slowly move the straw inside my glass, "Yes, I forgot to mention, did you hear about Jahseh Onfroy? Poor man."

"Yes! I was so shocked. I cannot believe he is dead. I loved his music." Mahogany says, banging her fork on the glass table.

"Death clicked something." Stassie says. "Remember Park Carter from Southpole High? He was murdered last week."

Mahogany and I pass her similar stares. That sounded strange. Just last week we had attended a baseball match against Southpole and he had played pretty well. Poor boy.

Horrid Henry is now bullying little Perfect Peter, and their Dad is looking at them with a disgusted look. At the other end, the management is forcing the boy to take his dog outside at once.

Monday tomorrow. I have my Add Math assignment to complete yet. How annoying.

So that it was.
If you still see some errors, please point them out.

______
And now because you have all the way through these >1600 words, you have successfully become a

This is called "promotion". Tell your Dads you got promoted, have a blast tonight!

LITTLE FACT: Z is busy inspecting his eye in the mirror!

See you all,