And Then There Was Victor by isabelle_olmo on Wattpad

 Original:

Mami had stuffed all our baby photos along with her wedding album inside of the washing machine which is why they were saved. Our house was now a carcass of its former self, skin and bones and the meat, our things, all missing. I didn't know where we belonged, but we couldn't stay here, here was all gone, and by some miracle, we remained.

The newspapers called Miami a "Wasteland" and that's what it was like. God had reached down to earth and with his great big hand he had crumbled the houses into toothpicks then laid them back down for their owners to find. Mami said gather what I could, whatever could be saved. All that I was, all that I had, fit in a box. A brown wet box.

Kissimmee was somehow where we ended up because a long-time friend offered us a room to stay in, until we got our things together. I remember thinking how small it was, small streets, small people, slow and steady.

This town was sterile and orderly, people outside of the norm were frowned upon and I was a small brown girl with frizzy hair that had one pair of jeans and had to share a bed with her little brother.

"Can you escort Beckett -- is that your name?"

The school counselor dressed funny, everyone in Kissimmee did, much different from Puerto Rico or Miami.

"Becka. Becka Montana."

I realized suddenly that my accent was thick. Very thick. I could tell by the pursing of her lips. I wasn't welcomed here, this was not where I belonged, where we belonged. I wanted to explain to her that this was not my choice but I didn't have the words.

"Derek, can you escort Ms. Montana to Mr. White's English class? She's new", the woman said and in came a boy with blond hair that fell on his face even as he pushed it back.

I didn't dare look at him, I didn't dare look at most boys. I didn't know what to say and I didn't want them to see that all I owned was in a wet cardboard box under a guest bed. He signaled with his chin for me to follow.

Mr. White was smiling and dressed so well and sharp that I remember thinking that he looked like a businessman.

"Becka?"

"Yes, sir. Becka Montana."

The class, which had turned to stare openly at me, snickered and I didn't understand why it was funny but I thought that perhaps they already knew that Miami was gone, destroyed and I was the debris that had wandered in.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Becka, welcome to 7th Grade Engish."

His eyes were brown and warm and I smiled a little at him.

"Thank you."

"Where are you from, Becka?"

"Miami." I chanced a look at the room. The faces were foreign and strange, and I missed my friends in Miami but I didn't know where they had ended up, where the winds had blown them.

My Version:

The newspapers called Miami "a wasteland" and that's what it was. God had reached down to Earth with His great big hand, crumbled the houses into toothpicks, then laid them back down. All that I was, all that I had, fit in a box. A brown, wet box.

A family friend offered us a room in Kissimmee. Compared to Miami, the town was small, slow, and colorless. Even the school counselor was beige. I could tell by the pursing of her lips that my accent was too thick. My skin too brown. My hair too frizzy. I wanted to explain to her that sharing a twin bed in a strange house in a strange city at a strange school was not how I wanted to spend seventh grade, but I didn't have the words.

As quickly as she could, she passed me onto her student aid, Derek. He ran his hand through floppy blonde hair that re-settled immediately against his cheekbones, and led me down the beige halls to the beige classroom. I didn't dare look at him, I didn't dare look at most boys.

As we walked in, the entire class, seemed to perk up just to snicker at me. I was debris that Hurricane Andrew had blown in, and wished I could blow right out again. 

Mr. White, my English teacher, had warm brown eyes and a gentle smile. He wore a full gray suit with a vest and tie, like a businessman, and spoke like one of them, his accent polished away to nothing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Becka. Where are you from?"

"Miami." I chanced a look at the room. The faces weren't all hostile, but they were all strange. I wondered if the winds had blown my friends to equally unfriendly places. I hoped not.

Final Thoughts:

I like the voice of the MC in the original, but I thought that it was a diluted by a lot of extra words. In my version, I tried to capture the most vivid descriptions and feelings of the original but cut down on unnecessary dialogue and description. For instance, the school counselor calling her "Beckett" instead of "Becka" is weird. "Becka" is a pretty common name for a girl, and the counselor would have Becka's file right in front of her. 

Also, Mr. White welcoming her to "seventh grade English" is awkward. I can't imagine any teacher saying that. That little detail is obviously for the reader, so I moved it up to her reaction to the counselor.

I read ahead a few chapters, and I like the MC's voice more and more. This is a slow burn romance, but the blurb describes it as enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, which is inaccurate because they are never really enemies, they are just slightly antagonistic toward each other. The writing feels like we're rushing to get to college where they'll fall in love, but I kind of wish the author would slow down and give the "enemies" and "friends" parts of the stories equal weight. That IS what sets this story apart from a regular romance, after all.

Also, it feels odd to introduce her strong friend group only to have them all disappear before she even gets to college. It feels like a waste to invest in them, which kind of explains why the author rushed through those parts. I think this story arc combined with the strength of the writing could actually be a trilogy, one for each stage of the relationship. Then these characters and stories could be fleshed out more. I feel like they deserve more than a few chapters.

That said, based on the few chapters I've read (all of them a lot better than the first one), I plan to continue reading. If the author was able to sketch out full and interesting characters in the first few chapters, I have high hopes for the rest of the book, where, I'm assuming, she'll take her time.