Wanderlust Snippet: Fiona Scott

Howdy, y'all! There has been changes to Wanderlust. I started out with two POVs as an experiment, and for me the experiment failed. It is so hard to write two POVs in my opinion (y'all are amazing who do it!!!!!!!!!!!!), especially when every time it came around for me to write about Cody, I didn't want to because Fiona's story is so much more interesting. So, Cody is no longer an MC. He's still part of the story, but I am not writing from his POV. I was frustrated because cutting Cody's chapters out of the book cut it town from 12 chapters to 6, and over 20,000 words to 15,311. But that's okay! I think it's a good thing because the book was a little slow.

Ready for Fiona's snippet?? Let's goooooooooo!

~Fiona scowled at the thought of Cody. At first, his good looks―thick blonde curls that skated
over his forehead, fiery hazel eyes, and a muscular, athletic body―had caused her stomach to
flutter, but as the evening wore on, she realized the teenager was pathetic, snappish, quiet,
moody, and, above all, mysterious. A lingering pain wallowed in his eyes, along with a dwelling
anger, and his face―after the delightful grin when they first met―had descended into a
clouded and scornful expression.

I want to get to know him better, but only because he seems to be hurting. And, he’s mysterious.
Fiona rolled onto her back, dropping Rooftoppers, and stared at the ceiling. The mystery of
Cody Howard intrigued her.

How did his father die? Why did he suddenly shut down when I asked him if he followed horse
racing? What does he hold against it? Why doesn’t he talk about Mr. Howard? So many
questions surfaced.

She turned Cody Howard over in her brain throughout dinner while staring at her alien-shaped
reflection in the spaghetti pot. Her thoughts meandered to the possibilities of why Cody might
resent horses.

Suddenly, someone poked her in the arm. Fiona yelped and jumped. Her hand followed her startle and

flew up without being asked to. The fork clutched in her fingers spun off by the momentum of her arm's

toss. The whirling fork narrowly missed Brooklynn’s head. Alfredo sauce and noodles twirled

everywhere, splattering the tablecloth and Sydney’s face, and the fork plunged into the unyielding abyss of

the kitchen.

All clinks of silverware ceased. Eyes flew to Fiona’s startled face. Mom paused in scooping
peas and stared at her, wide-eyed. “Wow. What was that about?”

Fiona sighed. She shoved her chair away from the dining table and crossed the area between
the table and the kitchen to grope around for the fork. It seemed to have vanished into thin air.
She thrust her fingers under the cabinets and oven, pressed her cheek up against the floor to
peer under the refrigerator, and even went so far as to peek into the drain of the sink. When no
fork turned up, she chose a fresh one from the drawer and returned to her seat.

Mom still regarded her with raised eyebrows and pressed lips. The look silently demanded
an explanation for the flinging of the raptured fork.~

Stay tuned for a new blog story on Wednesday!
-Izzy-