Fucking thing is as persnickety as Blackboard. Word limit, but I don't know what that is. Just keep cutting the post until Blogger accepts it. "Your comment has been posted," means your comment may have been posted, then again, maybe not. Or maybe we'll give you the illusion it was posted, but when you come back, the post won't be there. AAAAARARRARRRRARRRRRRRRRGH!
In an effort to curb tardiness, smoking had been restricted to seven dedicated smoking areas on campus. In an effort to improve public perception of the school, students were no longer allowed to smoke along the building’s façade, which fronted a major thoroughfare. In an effort to curb the threat of fire, concrete pads had been laid at various locations about the campus to accommodate student smokers. Each pad had one round metal and fiberglass table encircled by four round stools and every item in the ensemble was bolted into the concrete. The idea was that, with seven minutes between each period, students and faculty alike all had time to hit the head, have a smoke, grab a drink and get to the next class before the tardy bell rang. Different cliques claimed each of the pads. The pad by the entrance to the stadium tunnel was called jock’s lounge. It was the most exclusive of all smoking areas since this is where the football and baseball team players went for a smoke. Coaches could be found there on occasion, as well as a cheerleader or three. Being the furthest and least supervised area on campus gave its claimants autonomy and an anything goes mentality that other students coveted, but none dared to decry. In short order, the other smoking pads were: Kicker Central by the baseball bleachers where the shit kicker girls smoked Marlboro Lights and the boys dipped Red Man and Skoal; Area 51 by the math and science building where chain smoking nerds could be found downing Diet Coke as they squeezed in a round of Dungeons and Dragons; Boomtown by the new gym and auditorium where the black kids hung out, along with most of the basketball jocks; Stoner Pad was by the back entrance to Main Hall closest to the senior parking lot and was frequented by those who, when they bothered to come to school at all, reeked of pot and hid their bloodshot eyes with shades; Senior Alley lay between the cafeteria and the tennis courts and admittance of underclassmen was strictly by invitation only; lastly, the Wavers hung out by the steps leading to the band and music building and was a place where creativity reigned along with a healthy dose of eyeliner, black fingernail polish, and copious amounts of mousse and spritz. The group of boys stood smoking on the concrete pad by the steps that lead from the main building to the gym and the campus beyond. Technically, this was not a smoking area, but these guys were against the man and always looking for ways to throw a finger in the face of what they saw as oppression and authority. Elena bounded down the steps from main building, her jaw set and fists balled at her sides. She stopped by the boys and kicked the concrete planter, her toes protected by clunky hiking boots. I am so pissed. Can you imagine that shit? I mean what total bullshit. All I said to her was I’m not afraid of her and she runs to Moniz and tells him I threatened her. She was the one who said she can make this life hell for me. She was the one who said she’d make this class so tough I will fail pathetically. All I said was I’m not afraid of her. I’m not. She can go to hell and take Moniz and every other fucked up soul at this damn school with her. Anybody got a light? Hey, I’m a fucked up soul. Do I have to go to hell with Rodriquez and Moniz? Shut up, Alex, hand me your smoke. Here, I got you something. Elena, handed the box she’d gotten from the secretary to Alex in exchange for his cigarette. She took a long drag, filled her mouth with smoke, then inhaled it all in one gulping snatch of her lips. Much better, she said with exhaled, smoky words. Here, somebody finish this. I can’t be late for class.
Third period, biology and the great confrontation that Elena had envisioned having with Mrs. Rodriquez did not seem likely. The tardy bell sounded as Elena stepped through the door and Mrs. Rodriquez stood at the front of the room, flanked by an older woman in a suit who looked like a lawyer, a girl that Elena recognized as one of the varsity cheerleaders, and an older, handsome kid whom she did not recognize at all. Class. Everyone take your seats and settle down. We have a couple of guests who want to talk to you about some opportunities available to students considering a career in medicine. She looked directly at Elena as she added, or who might be looking for a good community service project. I should have just skipped. Who really cares? Maybe I should just step out now. I could say I wasn’t feeling well but didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, where am I supposed to sit? Up by her desk like her fucking monkey? Or maybe it would be fun to take my assigned seat right at the front of the room. I’d be up there staring at the backs of the presenters while they addressed the class. I could ask questions and they’d have to turn around to address me and Rodriquez would get all bent out of shape. Elena made her way to her new seat, the one she was forced to take after Mrs. Rodriquez accused her of cheating on an exam. Because she saw another girl stealing glances at Elena’s paper. Because Elena did not try to cover her answers, so the other girl couldn’t help but look. This accusation incensed Elena to no end. Science was her favorite subject; she was an honors student and would not dream of letting someone sponge off of her hard work. As Elena reached for her stool, Mrs. Rodriguez reached for her arm and led her out the door. Let go of me. I didn’t do anything. You were being disruptive. I was going to my seat. You said take your seats; I was going to my seat. I just talked to Mr. Moniz and you are to report to his office immediately. Fine. And I’m still not afraid of you. Elena pulled her arm from her teacher’s grasp and turned so as not to be seen with tears in her eyes. Rather than report directly to the office, she stopped in the bathroom, entered the stall furthest from the door, lit a cigarette, and cried. When her frustration was spent, she splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. What do you say we blow this joint? Her reflection nodding in agreement replied, let’s go.
Since you have her down so clearly why not clean up the subject matter and language to a PG13 and head for the YA audience? I think the F-word and BJ's preclude Newbery's? Personally, I am curious what has happened with the nasty neighbor, but more broadly curious what has happened at school and why is this young girl so hard? She is 16? Man, she has some history to make her so savvy, let's hear it. Her tenderness with the drowning boys is good, but unless I hear more background she is almost too clever for 16. Or? Maybe I am too old and kids really are like her these days.
I thought of cleaning her up a bit, but she won't stay clean. I need to work in her mom--big reason for her maturity. But when I started to work on Mom's story, it took on a life of its own and morphed into 30 pages of just mom. Mom is a Liberated Woman--or so she thinks. She is the type of woman who gives her daughter advice such as "Wait to have sex because once you do it, you'll want to do it all the time because it feels so good; it's like a drug." She is the type of mother who buys beer for her 14 year old daughter because it's "better" for her to drink at home. She is the type of mother who rebels against her own traditional, tough love, stay at home with 7 kids, doesn't drive and didn't finish school mother. She wants her daughter to love her unconditionally but loves with conditions. She uses affection as a weapon. She wants to be her daughter's friend.
This forum hates the first section of this story. Posts it, then the darn thing disappears. I don't get it. I'll try to post it again.
And on the YA topic, I'm afraid to go that route because Elena is truly damaged goods. I don't want her emulated or admired or aspired to by young women. I want older women to see part of themselves in her and understand that daughters need mothers, not a BFF. As I tell my own kids, friends come and go, your parents will always be here for you.
So then, it is a matter of getting all 4000 pages down and worrying about direction later?
Hmm depends on what Damaged Goods does with her future that determines her worth to a YA audience. There are a lot of hers out there that might like a safe, well lit path.
I agree partly with CC. Friggin' is a good substitute for Fucking. I felt however that the smoking kiosks were misplaced and the story began with Elena's first speech. I also feel that she is authentic and not over the top, and therefore she will serve as a role model or cautionary tale based on her acerbic nature (the balled fists, the frustrated crying in the bathroom). Everyone feels like the odd man out in school, so you really can't overdo her.
Bacon. I can taste it with my nose. There is nothing on this planet that would entice me to slaughter an animal, soak a chunk of its flesh in a vat of salt, nitrates, and preservatives, hang it out to ferment, then slice, sizzle, delight. Nothing beats the smell of bacon. Nothing. Elena, are you still with me? Hmm, yeah. Sorry. I’m just hungry. Where were we? You were saying that what I told Ms. Rodriguez is the same as a threat. That I could get in a lot of trouble. That I should be glad you aren’t calling my folks. That I should thank you for making more of this than it really is. Elena, don’t get smart with me. You know what you said was wrong. You know it was disrespectful. No, sir, I don’t. All I know is that she threatened me and was disrespectful to me and no one cares about that. No one even asked for my side of the story. Call her in here right now and we’ll see who’s lying. Do it. That will be enough. The vice principal’s ruddy, bulbous nose turned a brighter shade of red. Elena could see his pulse in his temples as he stood up and bent over his desk. We are all tired of your antics and I don’t want to see you in this office again. It’s only the first time. And don’t interrupt me. You said we’re done. No. What I said was…
I’m not afraid of you. You’re one tall dude, but I’m not afraid. I’m not. I’m gonna count to three, no, to heck with that, I’m gonna stand up and walk out and you can call my mom, I really don’t give a rat’s ass. I hate this place. You and that stupid biology bitch can go fuck yourselves. She said she could make my life hell, well, ditto. I’m done. I got it. Lesson learned. Please don’t spank me. Please don’t call my parents. Sit back down and lower your voice, young lady. Just who do you think you’re talking to? I have to go to the bathroom. I’m on my period and I don’t want to bleed through my pants and mess up your chair. Elena, don’t you walk out that door. When she stood up, Mr. Moniz was taken aback and seemed unsure of what action to take next. In the meantime, Elena walked out of the office door and straight to the secretary’s desk. After a quick exchange of whispers, the young girl held a small box up for her adversary to see. You were right, Mr. Moniz, she does keep a stash in her desk. With that, Elena pushed her way through the swinging door that came up to her waist and practically skipped out of the entrance to the campus offices. God, I could just slap that girl. Mr. Moniz slammed his hand on the door jamb, causing the window to vibrate it its frame with the force. Looking up from her typewriter, the campus secretary pursed her lips, nodding in the direction of the two students who sat awaiting their turn at discipline. They looked nervous and turned to look first at each other, then at the floor. Which one of you is next?
I can't believe the italics have been dropped. We may have to resort to quotation marks and apostrophes. Is this the real beginning? Because it is very very good. What is in the box? What a red herring, I just have to know. I so sympathize with this damaged chick. Fuck it, I say. Fuck it all.
HA! Pantoms are in the box right? but it gets lost in no formatting.
So maybe it is good we are reading this way, like your read backwards technique Susan. If we engage the character when the timeline is all screwed up then she is solid.
"Mr Moniz was taken aback..." does not flow with the stream. Ms Pittypat would be taken aback, the bulbous nose "was for the first time in a long time unsure of his next move," or something not off the top of my head.
I see him as retired military, reluctant to give up shoving his weight around on top of people so HS principal is an obvious encore career choice.
My favorite part of the blog is the unusual security word before posting. Sadly, they don't work for Scrabble.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteFucking thing is as persnickety as Blackboard. Word limit, but I don't know what that is. Just keep cutting the post until Blogger accepts it. "Your comment has been posted," means your comment may have been posted, then again, maybe not. Or maybe we'll give you the illusion it was posted, but when you come back, the post won't be there. AAAAARARRARRRRARRRRRRRRRGH!
ReplyDeleteWe'll try this again...
ReplyDeleteIn an effort to curb tardiness, smoking had been restricted to seven dedicated smoking areas on campus. In an effort to improve public perception of the school, students were no longer allowed to smoke along the building’s façade, which fronted a major thoroughfare. In an effort to curb the threat of fire, concrete pads had been laid at various locations about the campus to accommodate student smokers. Each pad had one round metal and fiberglass table encircled by four round stools and every item in the ensemble was bolted into the concrete. The idea was that, with seven minutes between each period, students and faculty alike all had time to hit the head, have a smoke, grab a drink and get to the next class before the tardy bell rang.
ReplyDeleteDifferent cliques claimed each of the pads. The pad by the entrance to the stadium tunnel was called jock’s lounge. It was the most exclusive of all smoking areas since this is where the football and baseball team players went for a smoke. Coaches could be found there on occasion, as well as a cheerleader or three. Being the furthest and least supervised area on campus gave its claimants autonomy and an anything goes mentality that other students coveted, but none dared to decry.
In short order, the other smoking pads were: Kicker Central by the baseball bleachers where the shit kicker girls smoked Marlboro Lights and the boys dipped Red Man and Skoal; Area 51 by the math and science building where chain smoking nerds could be found downing Diet Coke as they squeezed in a round of Dungeons and Dragons; Boomtown by the new gym and auditorium where the black kids hung out, along with most of the basketball jocks; Stoner Pad was by the back entrance to Main Hall closest to the senior parking lot and was frequented by those who, when they bothered to come to school at all, reeked of pot and hid their bloodshot eyes with shades; Senior Alley lay between the cafeteria and the tennis courts and admittance of underclassmen was strictly by invitation only; lastly, the Wavers hung out by the steps leading to the band and music building and was a place where creativity reigned along with a healthy dose of eyeliner, black fingernail polish, and copious amounts of mousse and spritz.
The group of boys stood smoking on the concrete pad by the steps that lead from the main building to the gym and the campus beyond. Technically, this was not a smoking area, but these guys were against the man and always looking for ways to throw a finger in the face of what they saw as oppression and authority. Elena bounded down the steps from main building, her jaw set and fists balled at her sides. She stopped by the boys and kicked the concrete planter, her toes protected by clunky hiking boots.
I am so pissed. Can you imagine that shit? I mean what total bullshit. All I said to her was I’m not afraid of her and she runs to Moniz and tells him I threatened her. She was the one who said she can make this life hell for me. She was the one who said she’d make this class so tough I will fail pathetically. All I said was I’m not afraid of her. I’m not. She can go to hell and take Moniz and every other fucked up soul at this damn school with her. Anybody got a light?
Hey, I’m a fucked up soul. Do I have to go to hell with Rodriquez and Moniz?
Shut up, Alex, hand me your smoke. Here, I got you something. Elena, handed the box she’d gotten from the secretary to Alex in exchange for his cigarette. She took a long drag, filled her mouth with smoke, then inhaled it all in one gulping snatch of her lips.
Much better, she said with exhaled, smoky words. Here, somebody finish this. I can’t be late for class.
Third period, biology and the great confrontation that Elena had envisioned having with Mrs. Rodriquez did not seem likely. The tardy bell sounded as Elena stepped through the door and Mrs. Rodriquez stood at the front of the room, flanked by an older woman in a suit who looked like a lawyer, a girl that Elena recognized as one of the varsity cheerleaders, and an older, handsome kid whom she did not recognize at all.
ReplyDeleteClass. Everyone take your seats and settle down. We have a couple of guests who want to talk to you about some opportunities available to students considering a career in medicine. She looked directly at Elena as she added, or who might be looking for a good community service project.
I should have just skipped. Who really cares? Maybe I should just step out now. I could say I wasn’t feeling well but didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, where am I supposed to sit? Up by her desk like her fucking monkey? Or maybe it would be fun to take my assigned seat right at the front of the room. I’d be up there staring at the backs of the presenters while they addressed the class. I could ask questions and they’d have to turn around to address me and Rodriquez would get all bent out of shape.
Elena made her way to her new seat, the one she was forced to take after Mrs. Rodriquez accused her of cheating on an exam. Because she saw another girl stealing glances at Elena’s paper. Because Elena did not try to cover her answers, so the other girl couldn’t help but look. This accusation incensed Elena to no end. Science was her favorite subject; she was an honors student and would not dream of letting someone sponge off of her hard work. As Elena reached for her stool, Mrs. Rodriguez reached for her arm and led her out the door.
Let go of me. I didn’t do anything.
You were being disruptive.
I was going to my seat. You said take your seats; I was going to my seat.
I just talked to Mr. Moniz and you are to report to his office immediately.
Fine. And I’m still not afraid of you.
Elena pulled her arm from her teacher’s grasp and turned so as not to be seen with tears in her eyes. Rather than report directly to the office, she stopped in the bathroom, entered the stall furthest from the door, lit a cigarette, and cried. When her frustration was spent, she splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. What do you say we blow this joint? Her reflection nodding in agreement replied, let’s go.
Ahh good, more from the elusive Elena.
ReplyDeleteSince you have her down so clearly why not clean up the subject matter and language to a PG13 and head for the YA audience? I think the F-word and BJ's preclude Newbery's? Personally, I am curious what has happened with the nasty neighbor, but more broadly curious what has happened at school and why is this young girl so hard? She is 16? Man, she has some history to make her so savvy, let's hear it. Her tenderness with the drowning boys is good, but unless I hear more background she is almost too clever for 16. Or? Maybe I am too old and kids really are like her these days.
I thought of cleaning her up a bit, but she won't stay clean. I need to work in her mom--big reason for her maturity. But when I started to work on Mom's story, it took on a life of its own and morphed into 30 pages of just mom. Mom is a Liberated Woman--or so she thinks. She is the type of woman who gives her daughter advice such as "Wait to have sex because once you do it, you'll want to do it all the time because it feels so good; it's like a drug." She is the type of mother who buys beer for her 14 year old daughter because it's "better" for her to drink at home. She is the type of mother who rebels against her own traditional, tough love, stay at home with 7 kids, doesn't drive and didn't finish school mother. She wants her daughter to love her unconditionally but loves with conditions. She uses affection as a weapon. She wants to be her daughter's friend.
ReplyDeleteThis forum hates the first section of this story. Posts it, then the darn thing disappears. I don't get it. I'll try to post it again.
ReplyDeleteAnd on the YA topic, I'm afraid to go that route because Elena is truly damaged goods. I don't want her emulated or admired or aspired to by young women. I want older women to see part of themselves in her and understand that daughters need mothers, not a BFF. As I tell my own kids, friends come and go, your parents will always be here for you.
So then, it is a matter of getting all 4000 pages down and worrying about direction later?
ReplyDeleteHmm depends on what Damaged Goods does with her future that determines her worth to a YA audience. There are a lot of hers out there that might like a safe, well lit path.
I agree partly with CC. Friggin' is a good substitute for Fucking. I felt however that the smoking kiosks were misplaced and the story began with Elena's first speech. I also feel that she is authentic and not over the top, and therefore she will serve as a role model or cautionary tale based on her acerbic nature (the balled fists, the frustrated crying in the bathroom). Everyone feels like the odd man out in school, so you really can't overdo her.
ReplyDeleteThis was supposed to post as first section, but was sent to electronic purgatory three times. See next comment. I'll break it up and see if it takes.
ReplyDeleteBacon. I can taste it with my nose. There is nothing on this planet that would entice me to slaughter an animal, soak a chunk of its flesh in a vat of salt, nitrates, and preservatives, hang it out to ferment, then slice, sizzle, delight. Nothing beats the smell of bacon. Nothing.
ReplyDeleteElena, are you still with me?
Hmm, yeah. Sorry. I’m just hungry.
Where were we?
You were saying that what I told Ms. Rodriguez is the same as a threat. That I could get in a lot of trouble. That I should be glad you aren’t calling my folks. That I should thank you for making more of this than it really is.
Elena, don’t get smart with me. You know what you said was wrong. You know it was disrespectful.
No, sir, I don’t. All I know is that she threatened me and was disrespectful to me and no one cares about that. No one even asked for my side of the story. Call her in here right now and we’ll see who’s lying. Do it.
That will be enough.
The vice principal’s ruddy, bulbous nose turned a brighter shade of red. Elena could see his pulse in his temples as he stood up and bent over his desk.
We are all tired of your antics and I don’t want to see you in this office again.
It’s only the first time.
And don’t interrupt me.
You said we’re done.
No. What I said was…
I’m not afraid of you. You’re one tall dude, but I’m not afraid. I’m not. I’m gonna count to three, no, to heck with that, I’m gonna stand up and walk out and you can call my mom, I really don’t give a rat’s ass. I hate this place. You and that stupid biology bitch can go fuck yourselves. She said she could make my life hell, well, ditto.
ReplyDeleteI’m done. I got it. Lesson learned. Please don’t spank me. Please don’t call my parents.
Sit back down and lower your voice, young lady. Just who do you think you’re talking to?
I have to go to the bathroom. I’m on my period and I don’t want to bleed through my pants and mess up your chair.
Elena, don’t you walk out that door.
When she stood up, Mr. Moniz was taken aback and seemed unsure of what action to take next. In the meantime, Elena walked out of the office door and straight to the secretary’s desk. After a quick exchange of whispers, the young girl held a small box up for her adversary to see.
You were right, Mr. Moniz, she does keep a stash in her desk.
With that, Elena pushed her way through the swinging door that came up to her waist and practically skipped out of the entrance to the campus offices.
God, I could just slap that girl.
Mr. Moniz slammed his hand on the door jamb, causing the window to vibrate it its frame with the force. Looking up from her typewriter, the campus secretary pursed her lips, nodding in the direction of the two students who sat awaiting their turn at discipline. They looked nervous and turned to look first at each other, then at the floor.
Which one of you is next?
***************
ReplyDeleteSo there.
Elena's thoughts are in italics, the formatting of which is lost in this forum. Wish there was a file sharing app or a dropbox on this blog.
I can't believe the italics have been dropped. We may have to resort to quotation marks and apostrophes. Is this the real beginning? Because it is very very good. What is in the box? What a red herring, I just have to know. I so sympathize with this damaged chick. Fuck it, I say. Fuck it all.
ReplyDeleteHA! Pantoms are in the box right? but it gets lost in no formatting.
ReplyDeleteSo maybe it is good we are reading this way, like your read backwards technique Susan. If we engage the character when the timeline is all screwed up then she is solid.
"Mr Moniz was taken aback..." does not flow with the stream. Ms Pittypat would be taken aback, the bulbous nose "was for the first time in a long time unsure of his next move," or something not off the top of my head.
I see him as retired military, reluctant to give up shoving his weight around on top of people so HS principal is an obvious encore career choice.
My favorite part of the blog is the unusual security word before posting. Sadly, they don't work for Scrabble.