Which excerpt do you find more appealing?
Which of these makes you want to read on?Any suggestions for how to improve the version you prefer?A:One brisk September morning in Chatsworth, California, the sun rose over the rooftops, bathing the houses with warm light. The rays penetrated the plain white curtains of a small room in a mid-sized peach house with a red tile roof, one of only three designs used in the whole neighborhood. The light found its way into even this tribute to uniformity and landed on a bed in the center of the room. The bed had only a pale pink comforter and a single white cotton pillow. The girl sleeping in it was only about ten years old, and not more than average height, but her childish, slightly chubby body was too big for the small mattress. Her tanned face contrasted pleasantly with the mass of curly red hair that went down to the middle of her back. Her arm hung over the side of the low bed frame and her fingers were mere inches away from grazing the light brown carpet. A loud shout from downstairs interrupted the peaceful scene. “Clara Lorraine Wood!” the voice said, “Wake up or you’ll be late for school!”The girl’s olive green eyes sprang open and she began to get out of bed and prepare for school. She whistled quietly to herself, even though she dreaded the coming hours. Clara whistled because, despite the fact that she knew that today would be no better than any other day, she remained hopeful. She walked down the stairs and sat down at the small table How To Avoid snoring in the cheerless kitchen to eat her customary bowl of Cheerios. When she had finished eating, Clara grabbed her backpack and set off for Topeka Elementary. She had an average day. As usual, nobody spoke to her. She had come to expect this silence, so it no longer disturbed her. “Oh, well,” thought Clara, “I’ve always known that I was different.” It was true. Clara was different, though she had no idea how different she really was. At both school and home she stayed to herself. It was not that she did not want to fit in; she was just different. After a while, she even stopped trying to make friends. Now a fourth grader, she simply tried to avoid her classmates. After all, she realized, not one of her almost friends had truly understood her. She longed to confide in someone, but she had given up hope. The only person she could ever remember feeling a connection towards had been her brother, Sam, and Clara could not bear the thought of him now that he was gone.1: The bright September sun rose over Morlan, California, chasing away the night. It quickly poked through the plain curtains of a plain bedroom in a plain house in a neighborhood where all the houses looked exactly the same: plain. The light worked its way past the plain walls, over the plain floor, and all the way to the middle of the room, where it landed on a plain bed. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t plain about the room was the tangled mess of curly red hair sitting atop the head of the girl in the bed. It was almost brighter than the sun’s rays, and contrasted drastically with the room’s beige and white color scheme. The girl looked about ten years old, and she was fast asleep.A harsh shout from downstairs interrupted her soft snoring. “Clara Lorraine Wood!” the voice screamed, “You missed the alarm again! Wake up!”Startled, Clara opened her olive green eyes and sprang out of bed to get ready for school. Even though she knew the coming day would be just as horrid as the one before, she smiled at her soggy cereal, hoping that something, anything, might change. When she had finished eating, Clara grabbed her backpack and began walking to Rigbon Street Elementary. Despite her high hopes, the day was perfectly, dreadfully average. Just like any other day, her classes were dull; just like any other day, her teacher were strict; and just like any other day, her classmates acted like she didn’t even exist. It had been like that for as long as Clara could remember. Something about her had always been a little off, a little weird, a little different. And that something, whatever it was, had gotten in the way of her making many friends. She’d tried for a long time, but none of the other kids, nobody at all really, seemed to understand her. Nobody, that is, except her brother, Sam. But Sam wasn’t around anymore, and Clara was completely alone. Just thinking about him made her want to cry, so she did her best to put him out of her thoughts.the intended audience is middle grade, if that helps.
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