The sections aren’t actually breaks, it was just supposed tobe a way for people to specify more clearly about where in the story they’re speaking. You make a lot of really good points and were very observant. Thanks a lot for the detailed review and for your opinions. I’ll try and use some of what you said when I edit and revise this first draft. Though I don’t think I’m going to go with the psychiatrist idea, too Mr. and Mrs. Smith…also it’s not my style and not where I want to go with this piece. Thanks for the suggestion though, it’s a good idea.
Mika
Short Story / Emmeline's Reflections
SECTION 1
I’m just sitting in my room, contemplating. It’s late Friday night and I’m all alone. Amber, this popular blonde in grade eleven, is throwing a party at her family’s beach house tonight. My parents are away at an accountant’s conference and gave me leave to do as I pleased this weekend. I know for a fact Amber was able to get some booze and more for her party. I also know that there will be no adults and all sorts of monumental things are bound to happen. On Monday the party’s sure to be all anyone will talk about. That kind of wild, free rebellion, anything goes event always stays in popular discussion for at least two weeks and will inevitably pop up on occasion throughout the year. It will probably be one of those things that get written about in yearbooks so that decades later it will be discovered and recalled as one of the most immature but awesome, yes I said awesome, events of your life. Missing it is not only social suicide but an omission of a substantially historical occurrence. Therefore, you must think I’m insane to be sitting here with all my lights out except for one little lamp that keeps flickering uneven light over the pages of my advanced graduate math textbook. A sixteen year old voluntarily opting out of a booze fest to find relationships between the incomplete formulas of two graphs is not a normal thing to behold. Why, you may ask, would anyone do that? Honestly, I don’t know. I tried to get myself to go to Amber’s, I really did. Emmeline, I said to myself, go over there right now and get wasted like you’re supposed to. After that I’d gotten up and marched out my bedroom door only to return with my math book. Over time I’ve simply concluded that I’m cursed with a knack for avoiding anything remotely interesting or rebellious that doesn’t involve a study group.
When I was a child freestyle fun and I were like the two North ends of magnets, we just didn’t stick. At four I spent my Christmas morning organizing my new block set into columns and rows based on their colour and lettering. They were set, with great care, symmetrically in the corner of my old play area downstairs in the basement laundry room. I can clearly remember looking at them longingly for weeks afterwards wishing to play with them but refusing to break up my systemic organization. After a while my mother simply packed them all up into a plastic bag and took them to the thrift store. I remember her telling me that if I wasn’t going to play with them maybe some other little girl would. Devastated, I shut myself in my room and spent hours tracing from a letter book I’d begged my father to give me. The concentration required in writing helped me to hold in my tears and frustrations. I didn’t enjoy printing, in fact I hated it, but that’s the kind of kid I was; instead of holding on to my hurt I drowned myself in intellectual or otherwise productive pursuits. Hate to admit it, but I guess that’s still the way I am.
A little under a year later kindergarten began and I wished fervently that I would make friends and be shown a better way to enjoy life than studying letter books. At that age I was still smart enough to realize that I was in desperate need of some kind of therapy and figured fun would be the best treatment.
Almost right away at school Jimmy Plokart and I became inseparable. He was exactly the opposite of me and was continuously getting into trouble and then coaxing his way out of it. His unorthodox personality clashed with my natural instincts so much that I became a more balanced child. I’m sure that if I hadn’t met him I would have been under psychoanalysis much sooner than I was.
Jimmy used to always try and get me to do something naughty with him and I would giggle nonsensically and continuously refuse in the nicest way I could. He’d tug me along by my blonde pigtails to the cubby room and whisper in my ear some creative mischief the two of us could do together. Usually I told him no before he finished describing his scheme, but one day my response was different. I think it was because I was slightly sleep deprived from staying up counting sheep. Finally, after four thousand I’d dozed off. On that day my guard was down and I was essentially lost in little Jimmy’s earnest brown eyes. I agreed to participate in his devious little scheme.
During recess we stayed behind as others rushed out to the brightly painted playground. His incredibly advanced plan was to scribble with permanent marker all over the chalkboards at the front of the room. As soon as everyone had disappeared we began immediately to go through with our mission. Jimmy made his best attempt and, using the letters he knew, wrote a series of little kid cusses such as butthead and poop, which turned out something like puTHeT and bUb since he tended to get his P’s and B’s confused. For my part I took a washable marker that I told Jimmy was permanent and wrote up the numbers to ten and the alphabet backwords. I thought of it as a baby step towards full out anarchy. I couldn’t very well do something completely disastrous the first time out of my cocoon. Of course, when Jimmy asked what I had ‘spelted’ I said my scribbles were extremely rude curses that I’d learned on a TV show I wasn’t supposed to watch. I can still remember the incredibly carefree smile he’d had on his face when we stood back and admired our handiwork.
After recess when everyone came back inside and our teacher, Ms. Bones, saw what we had done she put a short Barney movie on for the other kids and took Jimmy and I out into the hall. Jimmy grinned his cute five year old grin and told her this had been his method to of trying to get new chalkboards for our class from the school because she deserved better than the thirty year old slabs we put up with. I’m pretty sure she didn’t believe him, but who could get mad at Jimmy when he smiled?
She sent him back into the room and spoke with me alone afterwards. Expecting the worst I could feel tears begin to form in my shining green eyes and expertly forced myself to keep it hidden. Ms. Bones raised her hand and I thought she was going to hit me. Instead, she patted my head like a little dog and smiled broadly. She congratulated me on my excellent writing skills and said not to worry about this ‘little incident’ as she knew I’d been put up to it. She also said that blue and green Crayola had been an excellent choice from an artistic perspective. I’d felt so confused. I was relived not to be in trouble but also a little irritated that I hadn’t been able to make a teacher think I was bad, even when I broke the rules.
Despite being so different Jimmy and I remained close throughout the years and on his tenth birthday were still best friends. I’d set aside my Jr. Atwood writing workbook just to attend his party, a thing I rarely did unless I was switching books to study my art technique book or going to ballet class. Jimmy had invited me and three other boys over and we were all outside on his overgrown lawn screaming and playing tag. It was a dark and cloudy day but the rain refused to fall as though in defiance of gloom itself. Jimmy’s dad worked nights at the mill and I guess we’d woken him up with our enthusiastic play. Mr. Plokart was a great big, bully of a man whose features seemed to get fiercer the closer he got to you. He came thumping out the crooked screen door with a scowl on his face the size of Alberta. He didn’t look like he’d shaved in days, which just added to his grizzly bear appearance. The other boys and I had literally skidded to a stop when we’d spotted him, but Jimmy was too caught up in the game to notice. He made a squealing lunge to try and tag Thompson, one of the other boys, three feet from his dad. All it took was one blink and there was Jimmy dangling by his neck with a look of pure anguish on his face. His dad had him by the scruff with his vice like left handed grip. Mr. Plokart had taken his right hand and given Jimmy a good smack across his face before setting him down less than gently. He’d yelled like King Kong for us to shut up and then disappeared back into the faded white log house.
The other boys were so scared they’d stood stock still where they were, shaking in they’re boots, for minutes after. Thompson did one up on shaking and peed his pants. I tried to collect myself for the birthday boy’s sake and walked up to a still wide eyed Jimmy to give him a hug, the only way I could think to comfort him. I was glad he didn’t push me away in an attempt to be macho, but he didn’t hug me back either. Up close I could tell his left eye was going to be a shiner within a few hours.
That incident had pretty much caused the idea of a longer party to evaporate. I don’t exactly remember how or when we all left. What I do remember is being at home and taking a dust cloth out of the cupboard before wiping down every piece of furniture in my room.
The next day was our school’s year end assembly and sure enough Jimmy showed up with a bright purple shiner. He went around saying he got it from a fight with an older kid from another school. Nobody contradicted this, not even Thompson. The day went by in a blur, but at the end of it I’d gotten three academic awards at the assembly, one to match each of the detentions Jimmy managed to rack up that day.
I seemed to get a lot of awards over the years actually, although I was never really that proud of them, just kind of content. By the end of grade seven I’d gotten a record setting score on my provincial testing, a Canadian Youth award for my ballet and a one thousand dollar bursary from winning an essay contest on the effects of earthworms on our industrial world, a tricky topic let me tell you. With Jimmy as my friend I’d had plenty of opportunities to turn into a ‘bad apple’, but alas I still had my halo intact. I baked cookies for the seniors, did all the chores around our house and even gave my lunches to those poor kids that smelled on occasion. Jimmy on the other hand had at least one school suspension a month, broke three noses in a year and told the principle she was bigger than the fattest cow he’d ever seen. I’m positive he would’ve failed the grade too if I hadn’t forced him to sit down with me and study once in a while.
Now, you’re probably wondering how Jimmy and I could’ve remain friends for so long since we were so different. It’s really quite simple. We both had our own groups of friends that were like us and both felt that there was something missing in each of them. Jimmy had the tough lifestyle that I was envious of while I had the overachiever status he secretly longed for and refused to go after. Each of us was what the other wasn’t. We were kind of like peanut butter and jelly, a myriad of differences but yet so complete together. No matter what people said we stuck together, hanging out every lunch hour Jimmy didn’t have a detention in and renting movies every Friday. In fact, it was on one of those Fridays that everything started to change.
SECTION 2
It was an unusually hot fall day. The temperature belied the falling leaves covering the ground. Jimmy and I were plodding back to my house through the five blocks from the movie store. We’d picked up Hu-Yin Does Europe and were looking forward to being in the pitch black darkness of my room with the movie and a couple of sodas. Most parents would be concerned about a boy sitting alone with their teenage daughter in the dark, but not mine. They’ve severely taken for granted my rule abiding persona. They even keep their fine wine cabinet unlocked when they leave me alone. Many times I’ve thought about drowning myself in their wine to escape myself and spite them at the same time but in the end have always resigned myself to doing extra math problems instead.
Jimmy and I walked in basic silence since it was pretty much impossible to carry out a conversation over the sounds of rush hour traffic. I was in a really off mood that day because I’d found out that in the yearbook I’d gotten voted most likely to marry a robot of my own creation. It made me realize that my textbook ways were leading me brain first to a life of spinsterhood and schizophrenia brought on by actually living a false, ‘perfect’ existence. Once again I was at that continuously appearing crossroads of trying to make a change and live life by getting messy and making mistakes.
My personal teen angst thought patterns were disrupted for some reason when Jimmy and I turned onto one of the last streets before my house. Standing on the corner at the end of the street opposite to us was a lady pacing nervously under the shelter of a bus stop. She was wearing thigh high boots and a skimpy little dress that didn’t seem to serve a purpose as far as clothing went. As we got closer I could see the bags under her eyes and the red marks and scratches covering her face and arms. Her legs were partially covered by tattered and stained nylons. By the look of her unkempt, oily brown hair and slight smell of body odour wafting across the street I knew she couldn’t have bathed in a long time. She was extremely jumpy and was constantly looking around, rubbing her crossed arms and rocking back and forth on her heals.
Women like her weren’t a rarity in this city, but for some reason this particular drug addicted lady got to me. Prostituting herself, enduring shame, danger, and pain for that high, that euphoric get away. It had probably started out easily enough at some friend’s house and led up over the years to this.
“Is it worth it?” I said, barely above a whisper.
Jimmy, walking with hunched shoulders and thumbs hooked into his jeans, turned his stubble covered face to look at me with his always inquisitive eyes. “Is what worth it?” He asked.
I shrugged my shoulders, not realizing that I’d spoken out loud, and nodded in the hooker’s direction.
“For her it is.” He paused. “Some people don’t like who they are Emmeline, they’ll do anything to be able to distort their image to themselves. Anything. If that’s what it takes for her high now that she’s in so deep she’ll do it. Some people would rather die than get clean. Dying of an overdose in some street ally lost in your head sounds more appealing than it would be to go through withdrawal and face the reality of everyone she’s hurt.”
Jimmy’s eyes were directed straight ahead and he had an odd expression on his face, one I’d never seen before. He usually stuck to basic, emotionless phrases and for him to go in deep on that topic made me wonder what it was that truly went on in his head. I decided not to push my luck by probing further and we walked silently the rest of the way to my house and up to my room to watch Hu-Yin Does Europe.
My family’s not exactly rich, but we’re not poor either. We’re slightly below middle class. My room has solid light blue walls. You see, my mom has this fetish with baby blue that’s truly led to some terrible things. Our entire house is painted that colour, not to mention all our couches, blankets and the occasional carpet. Thankfully I was able to restrict the blue in my room to my walls. When we first bought our house my mom gave my brother, who’s now long gone and graduated, and I each an allowance of two thousand dollars to furnish it and repair it in any way we wanted. Originally our place was kind of in disrepair and a definite fixer upper so the two grand was understandably necessary, considering we also had to pay for the flooring.
Since I was on a budget and had specific things in mind for design I sacrificed the quality of my bed, if that’s what you would call it, for my other pursuits. At the far end, stretching from wall to wall is this old mattress I got from the thrift store and cleaned up with all sorts of disinfecting sprays. It’s wrapped up in layers of sheets and piled with about five big comforters of various origins and seven pillows. You would never know how disarranged and unorganized that pile of fluff gets every night by looking at it all smoothed out during the day.
Aside from feathered bed accessories my money went towards this handcrafted antique desk that had just been refinished. The oak wood is gorgeous and caught my attention right away at the store. It’s topped with a small set of shelves that I keep the majority of my books on and a box of writing materials. The overall effect of organization and shining wood is very calming to me and whenever I sit down with calculus or something my bad mood dissipates like a rain storm in the Gobi.
The floor is some cheap laminate covered mostly by this giant rug that I bought at Ikea. The grays and greens of the material flowing together remind me of a whirlpool. What I love most about it though is its thickness. Walking over it is like walking through strangely soft uncut grass.
I think that’s enough about my room for now though. Once Jimmy and I were upstairs I threw down some pillows and blankets from my bed onto the floor. We sat with our backs against a side wall facing a little fifteen inch screen I called my own. With the movie popped in and the lights off we curled ourselves up in the blankets and prepared for ninety minutes of crazy, stereotypical Asian antics.
We were both in desperate need of an escape from casual life that day. Jimmy had found out he was one F away from failing science. I was depressed about the lack of fulfillment in my life, especially since I’d recently gotten picked for a solo at ballet and still wasn’t happy. Life in general was not agreeing with us and so we sat in comfortable silence for the first hour of the movie, not really paying attention, but allowing our minds to be empty. When we needed to we could talk to each other about anything, but at the same time we also knew when to just have quiet time together. After that much needed hour of nothingness our brains slowly began coming back from their slumbers and we regained physical consciousness.
Considering we weren’t technically watching the movie it was kind of like Jimmy and I were just hanging out in my room alone together. I remember that for some reason the usual feeling of freedom and transparency I felt with him was gone that night. After the first hour something was different, it had shifted, I’d felt it right away but was at a loss for the reason why. I never asked Jimmy later what he thought had caused that initial change in our friendship because for him there had been no shift; just a kind of final boiling point, if that makes sense.
The vibes between us were almost awkward. Everything was the same and at the same time it was different. My window was open and the cool breeze was blowing the baby blue curtains (my mom’s designer detail) and causing them to dance of their own accord. I shivered despite the blankets when an especially cool draft blew in.
“You cold?” Jimmy asked. He had turned to look at me and I could see the light in his eyes twinkling in the dark. His whispered breath flowed softly near my ear.
I kept my eyes glued to the screen where Hu-Yin was in the process of karate chopping a reception desk at a Swiss skiing chateau. “Yeah, a bit.” I admitted.
An odd pause and a rustling of the blankets had Jimmy slipping his right arm over my shoulders. “Better?” His voice sounded lower than usual.
Kind of in an odd state of mind I nodded meekly. We were like lumps on a log, not moving or speaking, for about ten minutes. The sounds of the movie seemed to fade in the background, getting fainter and fainter though no one touched the volume. Soon there was only a haze of things in my peripheral vision and a cloud around Jimmy and I.
Jimmy turned in towards me so that we were looking directly into one another’s faces. I could smell his aftershave as he leaned in even closer before stopping briefly, unsure, his lips an inch from mine. When he kissed me I knew that nothing would or could ever be the same again. At first he was very tentative. He put his left hand against my cheek and moved it so that it was almost at the nape of my neck before using it guide me and kiss deeper. After he pulled away we were still and looked speculatively into each other’s eyes.
What were we doing? Why were we doing it? Does he really feel that much for me? All these questions ran through my head at s hundred miles an hour. Eventually one of us got up, stopped the movie and turned on the lights. We both plopped down at opposite ends of my mattress and began talking things though with surprising rationality, considering we had probably just destroyed our odd but successful friendship.
“Sooo….” I began.
“Yeah…..” Jimmy countered before finally breaking through the word dam we’d built up. “Look Em, I like you, I have for a while. At first it was just catching myself smiling as I watched you walk away. Tonight everything just kind of surfaced.”
“Jimmy, I really don’t know what to think. I mean, I think I like you back, but that makes me scared.” There was a slight quiver to my voice and I hoped Jimmy didn’t think I was crying or something childish like that.
He smiled at me. “Don’t get all scared Em, just give me a shot. We could be good together. Besides, you’re too good a kisser to stay single.” He teased.
It was getting kind of late so I got up to walk Jimmy out, thinking as my feet automatically led my to just outside my crooked front door. The light from beside the door shone down on him as he stopped to say goodbye, it set an eerie glow on his hair. Jimmy stood down one step from me, looking expectant.
“Alright.” I said. He sighed visibly. “We can try it if you promise not to crack bookworm jokes.”
Once again he directed that hypnotizing smile at me. “Good.” Without having to step up he kissed me again and sauntered off into the crisp starry night to havoc before the sun rose.
Usually when I wake up I don’t remember my dreams, but the next morning I did. I can still picture it as vividly now as I did then. My blankets were in a greater twisted condition than normal and there was sweat on my brow. I’d dreamt that Jimmy had turned into a rabbit as I watched from afar. Not a cute, fluffy rabbit, but a scraggly, vicious creation. This rabbit was in a field with a dark crimson sky overhead. He kept running around to all these dark mole holes trying to get in and fitting into none of them.
SECTION 3
Every once in a while a mole would appear at one of the holes and shoo him away. One of those moles I knew was myself, I don’t know how but I did. Jimmy, in his rabbit form, was running around so frantically that he didn’t take notice of me significantly hovering like a statue over my hole. Finally, after trying to get into almost every hole except for mine Jimmy gave up and began to dig his own. He was a flurry of paws and patches of fur were ripped off and went flying everywhere. He used his teeth and his ears along with his paws until he stood over his new hole panting and shaking from the tips of his ears to his toes. His fur coat was missing large brown chunks that revealed deep scratches. Blood also seeped through other parts of his coat and some of his teeth were broken. With one ear kinked oddly and his whiskers twitching madly he was reminiscent of a psycho bunny from a fifties horror movie brought back from the dead. Finally he jumped into his hole like the rest of us. All around moles were bobbing up and down in their holes and I watched his expectantly. I watched and watched until the crimson sky turned black and all I could see were shadows. Jimmy never came back out of his hole.
At the time I was really confused about it. I thought that maybe the dream had been a premonition of some sort that I didn’t understand. It made me a more observant around Jimmy and I took extra note of the crappy way his father treated him.
I think Jimmy had gone out five months before problems starting taking full force. Being friends with your opposite was one thing, dating was quite another. Though we laughed it off, our first date was a disaster. I wanted to go on a nature walk and Jimmy wanted to sneak into a club. In the end we went to the arcade for dinner and games. He accidentally spilled his soda on me I drew stares that made Jimmy uncomfortable when I had a pen and pad out during pool to figure out strategic angles.
Despite the uncomfortable cultural clash things were pretty good between us. I loved that I could tell him anything and he would comfort me with hugs and whispered encouragements. He was the more secluded and mysterious of us in that though he would talk to me about everything I could tell there were always little details he was holding back. It wasn’t that so much that bothered me, it was the other things. We’d be out and his friends would come over and harass us or else we’d be in class and my friends would shoot him nasty looks when he answered a question wrong. One time when he picked me up after ballet class my teacher let me know that she thought I shouldn’t be with Jimmy at all. Worse was that she did it in front of him as if he didn’t even exist. Jimmy wouldn’t admit it but I’m sure that really grated him. She had gone on and on about how I shouldn’t be with someone who was just going to end up on welfare for the rest of their life stealing cars and smoking dope.
Afterwards Jimmy had taken me to one of the tougher hangouts he liked to go to where the owner sold beer and more to minors backseat. It was sunny so we sat outside on the grass with a bunch of his friends in a circle. They were all handing around joints. When I passed without dragging their chastisement got so obnoxious that if it weren’t for Jimmy I would’ve called the cops just to see their dumb faces in handcuffs. I don’t know why Jimmy took me there in the first place. He knew I didn’t like that scene. What bugged me more was how he just sat there and let me take it. Looking back I realize that it was probably some sort of revenge, though I’m not sure if it was intentional. I hadn’t really stuck up for him with my ballet teacher either. I’d felt that I couldn’t because if I did she would take my solo away and possibly kick me out of the class. In my experience I’ve found that Russians are extremely serious and strict. I suppose that Jimmy felt the same kind of pressure with his friends. If he said anything they’d start in on him and he could lose his place in their circle. That same group also sold pot and harder stuff around town, Jimmy included. I didn’t agree with what he did, but it was part of accepting who he was. He needed the money and that’s how he could get it fastest. If they cut him out he’d be in serious trouble. It was a kind of similar situation to me, whether or not anyone would realize it.
Similar days began to happen more often. We were constantly being told off by each other’s friends and acquaintances. You may be thinking that we should have ditched our friends since if they were that superficial they weren’t really our friends. It’s not that simple. When Jimmy wasn’t around my friends were there for me. They understood me in a different way, we were the same. I needed them to feel part of a crowd, sort of like a family. Jimmy felt the same way about his friends. I don’t think there’s anybody in the world who can honestly be content with just one other person.
Things finally came to a terrible make it or break it climax on a Friday night exactly three weeks ago tonight, the first day of spring. Every time I think back on it I feel as though I’m reliving it moment by moment. Life has kind of screwed each of us over in that the things that we remember most vividly are exactly what we wish to forget while the things that we desperately want to hold onto forever vanish in a puff of smoke.
One of Jimmy’s older drop-out friends, Ray, was having a party in this old cottage at the end of a dirt road that wound around all the twists and turns of the lake. I didn’t really want to go because I knew how out of hand Ray’s parties always get. Jimmy had to go through quite a number to get me to go with him. He knew I wouldn’t feel comfortable about him going alone because of all the, excuse my language, drunken loose girls, so in essence the only way he could go was if I went. No matter how much Jimmy cared about me I at least had enough sense to know that if a girl threw herself at him there was only so much willpower that could hold off against male teenager hormones, especially when he was bound to be drunk himself. In the end we piled into his ancient convertible and painstakingly drove the forty kilometers out to the party.
Right away when we drove up I could tell the party was not my scene. Half naked teenagers stood making out all along the porch as if they were replacements for the flower arrangements people usually put there. There were more delinquents down by the water screaming, splashing and begging for pneumonia. I took a deep breath and allowed Jimmy to lead me by the hand into the little cottage where even the rafters shook from the music.
SECTION 4
I could tell that Ray hadn’t bothered with normal details of improvement in the cottage, such as sweeping. He had however managed to set up giant amps worth more than all my scholarships put together and enough kegs to satisfy a small country. People were everywhere, dancing, kissing, drinking, puking, you name it they were doing it. It was almost impossible to walk across the floor.
Jimmy took me to one of the back rooms where he knocked and was let in by one of the main guys he hung out with. This room was a little easier to breathe in since there were only about five other people in it and the music was slightly buffered by the ramshackle walls. We sat down on one of the couches and I half listened as ‘Sups’ and ‘Heys’ were exchanged all round. Nobody paid us much mind ten minutes later when we began to make out a bit; they were all pretty absorbed in a conversation about some crack that needed delivering.
I felt the heat from Jimmy’s body coming through his gray t-shirt as he lay on top of me. His hands roamed over my jeans and found their way to my black tank top. When his hand started to shift under the thin material I quickly stopped it with my own. Startled, he looked up into my face with a questioning look. I pushed him up so that we were sitting side by side and a little breathless.
He leaned in and placed a feathery kiss on my cheek. “What’s wrong Em?”
Befuddled at his obvious ignorance of why I could’ve felt uncomfortable I fidgeted in my position before speaking to him in an undertone so that nobody else would take notice. “We’re not in my room or somewhere private right now Jimmy, I can’t just make out with you in front of all your friends.”
I’d thought he would laugh and call me silly or sigh and tell me that this was another downer about a four point O’ girlfriend. He did neither. “Nobody cares if we make out and I don’t think that it’s being around people that made you stop me.” He picked at the stuffing coming out of a hole in the couch.
“What do you mean?”
His expression was guarded, but there was a sad sheen to his eyes. “I mean that it’s not making out you don’t like people to see, it’s us. You’re not comfortable with what they might think of you going out with a guy like me, even if everyone here is my friends.”
I’d never realized he felt that way before. I mean, I always knew that it was hard for us to constantly be compared by others, but I’d never really taken a step back to look at my own perspective on the matter. I guess I just figured it didn’t matter. All of the sudden he had me thinking about it seriously.
I shook my head so that the little ringlets I’d thrown into my ponytail quivered. “I never said that Jimmy.”
Jimmy went to get up and stretched closer to me before standing fully and pulling me up with him. “You didn’t have to.” We’d just kind of stood there for a few seconds looking at each other, not knowing what to say.
When he finally broke the silence it was just to tell me he was going to get me a beer before walking out the door. He already had one on the go sitting on a crappy wooden coffee table in the middle of the room. Today I still don’t know why he felt the need to get me something to drink. I never drink beer, or any alcohol for that matter.
While he was gone I went to stand in a corner of the room by the window and do some quadratic equations in my head. They helped numb the bad feelings flowing through me at that moment. I was pretty focused so I didn’t notice when Ray walked behind me.
“Alone at last Ms.Valedictorian.” He curled his lanky arms around my waist from the back and got up real close to me. His breath smelled almost as terrible as his shoes usually did and I knew he was totally gone as far as reasonable thinking went.
Whirling around I moved my hands up to his shoulders to push him away. He was stronger and shoved me against the wall before covering my mouth with his. The next thing I knew there was this ‘thwack’ sound and Ray was laying on his knees in the dust on the wooden floor. His face was gushing blood and I could tell his nose was broken. Jimmy was standing over him in a state I don’t think any living person would wish to be faced with.
The other guys in the room caught on quickly, not so much to the situation, but to the fact that Ray was no longer welcome at the party. They weren’t looking for trouble and quickly hauled Ray out by the armpits and threw him outside the cottage near the water.
“I-I’m sorry Jimmy. I didn’t do anything, I swear.” I stuttered like the cowardly five year old I had once been.
His shoulders relaxed and he kept his gaze on the spot where Ray had just been, marked my a few burgundy drops of blood. “I know.”
I went to put my arms around him and he shrugged me off. “Emmeline, tell me exactly what happened.”
I told him, word for word, what Ray had said and done and yet he continued to look straight ahead as though looking my way would sting. “This never would’ve happened if you were just some trash from the trailer park I’d picked up. It’s because he knows you’re in a different league. Em, this is getting to be too much, too hard.”
Everyone else in the room had gone back to what they were doing before, either drinking or talking. No one noticed Jimmy and I were having an earnest conversation worth eavesdropping to.
“It’s always been hard Jimmy, but hasn’t it been worth it?” As I said those words I wasn’t sure I knew the answer myself. Was it worth it, I mean really and truly worth it, to have to keep listening to people poke fun and go off on my relationship like some know it all master of the universe?
He bowed his head as if in defeat. “I am who I am Em, there’s no changing that.” I went to interrupt and say that I’d always known that and I was the same way but he put up his hand to stop me. “You want me to change. I want you to change. At the same time we don’t want each other to change. Changing means giving up what it is we together stand for. I know if you did change to what I want you to be I wouldn’t love you as much. Same goes for you. We love each other for who we are. Unfortunately, at the same time we hate each other for it. There is one thing for certain though; who we are will never change.”
Right away I knew he was right, what he was saying was so right it scared me. It wasn’t just us inside that made up who we were, it was the things we did and the people we were with. Have you ever had two puzzles that when faced upside down and mixed around looked the same but still only fit one way? Sometimes there’s a piece from each that will fit together so well you would never know they were different on the other side. In the end those pieces won’t fit anywhere else as long as they’re combined and must be separated so that the puzzles can be complete. Those two pieces were Jimmy and I. Nothing was ever right as long as we were one. Selfishness is honestly the only thing that kept us going until the very end. We were both greedy enough to want it all, have our cake and eat it too. I knew it wasn’t that we weren’t both willing to change a little for each other; it was that we actually couldn’t. It was like trying to run away from a dog when you’ve got the leash tied accidentally to your ankle.
After Jimmy finished speaking I started to feel tiny tear drops sliding down my cheeks. I couldn’t stand any longer without my legs giving in so I went and sat down on the couch again, this time by myself. Jimmy left me alone and began going around the room and joining in on the other conversations. Pretty soon the previous conversation about the crack came back into circulation.
I always hated the fact that Jimmy delivered crack to earn his extra cash. I understood why he did it; I just wish he could’ve found another way. Jobs like flipping burgers didn’t work for him. The kids on the block would probably have robbed his house clean if he so much as thought about a lame ass job; it wasn’t acceptable. Despite his reasons I’d probably spent hours trying to talk him out if it anyway, to no avail. Not only was handling drugs illegal, it was dangerous. I knew John didn’t do crack anymore, something he had been willing to change for me, so I wasn’t as worried about him getting arrested as I was him getting into trouble with the people he dealt with.
SECTION 5
That night they were planning a midnight delivery to a few of the highest buyers in the city. Ray was usually the driver for these kinds of jobs. Tonight, since Ray had been shunned by the group for breaking peace, it would be Jimmy who drove. They finished
with their plans and started walking outside to where Jimmy’s car was parked. A few minutes before they’d sent someone out to transfer to goods from the house.
Watching him walk out that door without saying goodbye or glancing at all in my direction made me feel like his departure was from more than just the party, it was from me. I got up and ran as fast as my flip-flops could take me out to the edge of the lamp lit porch, stopping myself by grabbing onto a post right before the staircase.
“Jimmy!” I wailed. “Don’t go. I can change, we can both change! We can get away from it, change. Be cars on a freeway and exit, Jimmy, just escape.”
It was a crystal clear night and the full moon danced with the brightly shining stars overhead. I could smell fresh air through the haze of cigarette smoke coming behind me. Without the party there the surroundings were almost serene. Jimmy was slightly shadowed by the headlights already turned on in the car as he walked slowly backwards towards it, watching me. People were yelling for him to hurry up as he stopped and raised his head to fully confront me.
He shook his head as if fighting his own thoughts. “Em,” His voice was soft now and kind of sad. “We can’t escape who we are.”
Jimmy turned and shut himself into the car with a loud slam. Dust rose up behind the vehicle as it drove into the distance before disappearing around one of the first curves. I remember standing where I was totally numb. I didn’t see or hear anything. Those words kept playing over and over in my head. ‘We can’t escape who we are.’
I realized he had struck on something by saying that. Jimmy was trapped in the life set up for him, just like I was trapped in mine. I’ve come to recognize that all everyone’s lives are is cages without keys for the locks. You’re born the way you die. Sure you can get an education, be influenced by art or literature and even do something profound that will have people writing about you in textbooks, but in the end you’re still the same. It’s kind of like how no matter how many times you change a book’s cover the text within remains the same.
I’ve discussed this thought many times with my psychiatrist since that night and though she doesn’t comment on it I’m sure she agrees. Since I no longer have Jimmy to talk to my school councilor suggested I start getting professional help. It’s not that I’m crazy or anything like that; it’s that I need be able to speak and be heard. Despite the expensive hourly fee I find it’s worth it to talk to Dr. Hoffman. Without Jimmy I’m forced to do everything in my power to prevent insanity and studying for twelve hours without eating or drinking anything. I’m sleep deprived and have lost twelve pounds. I can’t help it because focusing on studying makes the pain of everything; Jimmy, my parents, my imperfections, go away. It makes everything better. Dr. Hoffman has helped me get to the point where I can make myself go to sleep now at night, for which I am very grateful.
To me, the fact that I’m sitting here allowing myself to reflect on the past proves just how far I’ve come. I haven’t looked at the equations in my textbook in at least an hour now. Granted, it’s still odd that anybody would have it out on a Friday night. For me this is an improvement. I’m getting better and slowly crawling back from the hole I dug after Jimmy left me standing on that porch with no ride home.
I sigh as I close my textbook with a sense of finality. If I’ve spent this much time tonight looking back on the past I might as well bring to light what happened to Jimmy that night. Hopefully if I go through this all from beginning to end often enough it won’t make me cry one day.
After Jimmy left I used a cell phone that I borrowed from some drunken girl I knew to call myself a cab. Once home I worked on a possible thesis for when I’m getting my degree in one of the sciences, I haven’t decided which one yet. I worked all of what was now early Saturday morning straight through to Sunday morning without going to bed and only stopping for bathroom breaks. Thus it wasn’t until I crawled out of my hovel and sat down in the kitchen with some cheerios that I discovered the full history of events.
After finishing The National newspaper I started on our local paper. About halfway through there was this huge article on a recent car accident. The article was actually more centred on today’s “terrible and mentally challenged” youth and how there needs to be more discipline at school along with harder crackdowns on drugs in our community. Nevertheless, the article allowed me to read into exactly what had happened.
Jimmy and his friends had made all their pressing deliveries and were on their way back to the cottage when they crashed. I’m guessing that one of the people they were delivering to was unavailable or possibly in jail, which left a bunch of crack free and unaccounted for in their hands. Jimmy had been super high on it when he was driving back. It was probably his way of getting back at me, of proving to himself that it was really over.
Under normal circumstances Jimmy’s a risky driver, but being high it was inevitable that they would crash. He was coming around one of the worst corners at speeds Houdini wouldn’t have pulled off when he slammed the car right into the rock side of the mountain and ricocheted into a small shallow section in the lake. There had been three passengers in the car aside from Jimmy. One was thrown from the car and died when he cracked his skull on the ground. Another was crushed on impact by the mountain while the last passenger actually drowned in the two foot deep water. He had been wearing their seatbelt and was unconscious when the car landed upside down in the water. I like to think Jimmy didn’t know the last one was still in the car when he escaped alone from the turned over convertible. If I didn’t still care about Jimmy a lot deep down I would criticize how unfair it is that usually it’s the driver or person who causes an accident who survives. I still can’t believe he actually lived through that crash. The paper had a picture of the totaled wreck that blew my mind thinking about anyone surviving.
Despite living through that night I’m not sure how lucky Jimmy really is. You see, everyone was in a huge uproar over the whole thing, wanting justice and looking for someone to blame these three tragic deaths on. Naturally the blame fell to Jimmy. He was put to trial for three counts of second degree murder. I don’t know how anyone could classify what happened as any form of murder, but that’s just how fired up about it they all were. It probably didn’t help that the judge, Mrs. Bluke, had previously been having a secret affair with one of the dead boys. Normally a judge wouldn’t be permitted to sit in on a case she was personally involved in, but like I said, it was a secret affair. Jimmy was found guilty of three lesser charges of reckless abandonment causing death. He’s got thirty years of hell in prison to relive that night over and over again.
I cried like a dying cow when I read that article and again when I read the one with Jimmy’s sentence in it. I cried for those three young people who’d died and I cried for Jimmy. I suppose I was crying for myself too. How could he have been so cruel? I know it’s wrong to think that his involvement in their deaths and his prison sentence have anything to do with him proving to me that we could never be together, but I do. When I’m older and more mature I’ll look back on this incident as a whole and think that I was so self centred and naive. I’m probably the last thing on Jimmy’s mind right now, or at least I should be. I haven’t talked to him since that night and don’t plan on it ever again. It would be too awkward, like replaying a movie from the middle and then stopping before it’s over. I just can’t.
Well, that’s everything. I think tonight’s the first night I’ve ever though about Jimmy and not cried for him. My therapist would say that’s a wonderful improvement. I wonder if it is after all. The ability to emotionally harden myself is hardly something I would think to be proud of.
I clean up the little area around my desk and go over to my mattress to arrange my blankets so I can get in. I’m sleeping better now. Sighing with fatigue I close my eyes and start to drift away. I know that tomorrow I’ll wake up and start working on my thesis or something for six or seven hours and I’m okay with that. Dr. Hoffman says it’s truly not a normal thing to do and that I need to divert myself differently. She thinks I should go to school dances and such instead of burying myself in books and ballet, be more like a typical freedom loving teenager. I disagree wholeheartedly. My work efforts may be a way not dealing with reality and they may cause me health problems in the end from self neglect, but it is what it is. It’s a part of me and I’ll never be able to change that. It’s like Jimmy says, “We can’t escape who we are.”
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timrees reviewed Version 1 -
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This is a deeply sad story and it reads like it is, but I’m really hoping it is not, biographical. I really struggled to read this at the beginning, actually up to about 60% into the story, but I am so glad I finished, because the ending gives purpose and weight to the whole piece. Emmeline is a normal abnormal girl. She is drawn as being very studious and boring and that is exactly how she comes across, but here is where you, the author, have been very clever, because by the end we realise it is simply how she sees herself: the rest of the world obviously find her attractive and interesting, yet she doesn’t see that at all. She is also quite remarkable, actually. Obviously, in reality, a very attractive person who is totally unassuming, which is why she is able to befriend Jimmy in the first place. And we learn at Ray’s assault on her that she is seen as ‘in another league’.
Your problem in finding a publisher is getting them to read the whole piece, because they need to read the whole story to get the point and to truly appreciate how beautifully, finely crafted and well written the piece really is. Actually the story is powerfully poignant. It stays in your mind and gnaws at the reader like a terrible dread. Now I am left still pondering, but powerless; I feel an aching yearn to help Emmeline in some way… I am now desperately sad…
Very, very well done and my very best wishes for you with this. You have written something that needs to be read. I have opened my eyes to a fresh perspective and I have grown and learnt from the experience. Thank you.
A few typos and very minor suggestions:
At Jimmy’s party he invited “other boys”? I had decided, correctly, that Emmeline was a girl but the referral to other boys read as if she too was a boy. I had to read for clarity and still felt it read like she was a boy also.
All these questions ran through my head at “s” hundred miles an hour. – just a typo…
...as my feet automatically led “my” to just outside my crooked front door. - and another.
I think Jimmy had gone out five months before problems starting taking full force. - Do you mean Jimmy and I had gone out?
...where the owner sold beer and more to minors backseat. – Minors backseat? Maybe it’s the fact I live in the UK, but I don’t know what you mean. I have an idea, but am not sure.
...When I passed without dragging their chastisement got so obnoxious… – I had to re-read. Perhaps “without taking a drag…” might be clearer?
...marked “my” a few burgundy drops of blood. – by?
...I knew “John” didn’t do crack anymore, something he had been willing to change for me… – Who’s John?
...first night I’ve ever “though” about Jimmy and not cried for him. – typo “thought”
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Alycia reviewed Version 1 -
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This was really really good! From the first moment I started reading this, I was hooked. Actually, this reminds me a lot of Romeo and Juliet, in a way, the whole they can’t be together, because of their differences. I really liked the descriptions of everything, really drawing me in. All the characters were great, each complimenting the other. I hope you continue to write more, and I hope that I might be able to read it. Thanks, and good luck!
flora reviewed Version 1 -
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”...contemplating” (sentence 1) contepmlating what? People don’t just sit and contemplate, the contemplate something.
“this popular blonde” sounds a little childish even though it’s from teh voice of a young person. I would change it to sound just slightly more sophisticated so it doesn’t come off as written by somebody so young. Something like: “Amber, the most popular girl in school…”
After reading through a bit I’ve noticed that your writing style is that of a 15 year old which makes a ton of sense but when people are reading, even young poeple, they need language that’s a little more structured and to the point. You’ve painted the protag as a flighty young girl with not enough substance. I dind’t get a sense of her in the begining of the story because I don’t feel you gave enough background. Also, you’re writing from the protag’s point of view but I feel like you need to expand on it some. Hard to explain what I mean, but I guess the best way to put it is that your narrater has a certain voice because of the way that you’ve portrayed her (valley girl type imo) and that voice gets a little bit old and annoying.
You also switch between past tense and present tense. It’s important in a story to stick with on or the other. Typically past tense is used.
ex:
“I realized he had struck on something by saying that
I sigh as I close my textbook with a sense of finality.”
I think you have a great concept here but need to trim it down some to keep to the bones and meat of the story. Keep up the good work!
davet reviewed Version 1 -
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I’m going to review this as I read, section by section.
Picky moment – Accountants’ conference.
Section 1
OK you’re Lisa and he’s Bart? That might sound like a criticism, but it’s not really – I like the Simpson’s. But just a word of caution – you do lay it on thick, and maybe at 5 years old some of the thought processes sound very mature.
Section 2
“most likely to marry a robot of my own creation” Brilliant.
This is becoming an interesting story with it’s own life – its well written, and very empathetic. The uncertainty of teenage emotions is clearly shown and well handled. The drug addict seemed like an omen – some people aren’t happy with themselves – seemed to cut close to home for her. Maybe a bit much detail on the room and the baby blue, but its still really good.
Section 3
Yeah – people always disapprove when we step out of our natural bounds. I understand the way they both feel, and you keep the simple explanation going really well. This section is well done, not too much extraneous detail, but enough for us to see what’s happening.
Section 4
This is getting better and better. This is tightly drawn, the scene is easy to visualise, we’ve all been there, and the two of them have a real problem that they recognise, and so do we. The drugs thing keeps coming up, and you may be raising a tension for us, it certainly seems that way. Thinking back to the addict earlier…
Section 5
OK – this is where I have to be a bit harder. You have set up, quite skilfully, a tension, but you then get far too obvious. The stuff about Don’t go, and the plea to be careful all sets up an absolute inevitability, we know a disaster is coming, I leave the parting far more low-key – that also allows you to have more guilt building up… If only I’d stopped him. said something….
The the secret affair the Judge had with one of the dead boys – a) if its secret, how do you know about it. b) its just soooo unreal, c) its way OTT, and unnecessary. d) why give him 30 years – 10 might be more reasonabel and still be really bad.
Summary
Great stuff.
maemaemyluv reviewed Version 1 -
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I thoroughly enjoyed this piece. The writer had the ability to bring the reader into story line. Found one thing that could be corrected easily, such as Jimmys name changing to John. ( knew John didn’t do crack anymore, something he had been willing to change for me, so I wasn’t as worried about him getting arrested as I was him getting into trouble with the people he dealt with.) The story line however was excellent. Job well done.
Deanne reviewed Version 1 -
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Incredible -you came up with a way to make it easier to follow reviews. Thanks.
Section 1
1. Wouldn’t kids say , 11th grade?
2. read in yearbooks years later and recalled as a substantial historical experience – if there is booze, there are going to be adults who recall it with a grimace-because they did something they never did before or since, like got intimate with a guy they just met, and everyone knew it; or were too drunk to go home that night and too hung over to function the next day ; or climbed a tree to piss and fell out and became paralyzed forever…but this isn’t to coorrect your writing; you are presenting how teens think accurately, it’s just not how it really winds up, a great memory of the greatest fun; in your 20s you’ll have lots of fun to rival this and see this party as no biggie.(addendum: now I have read it all, I see she knows this already)
3.I wasn’t going to play with them, maybe some other little girl would (you omitted comma)
4. backwards. Altho “backwords” is a good word for this, it hasn’t been invented yet
5.what I had ‘spelted’, I said my scribbles (comma)
6.my shining green eyes = conceited, is she? She’s not supposed to see her own eyes to know they are shining.That’s a description others offer of a person, not the person with the shining green eyes, who just thinks they are green
7.”I’d felt so confused” You didn’t say “she’d also said” about the teacher, so you don’t need to say “I’d felt”. I felt is fine.
8. rain refused to fall as though in defiance of gloom itself. Good, but it is still hard to scroll so far up and down, so I am not praising the good enough. let me put it this way: You write with sentence lengths about on par with John Connolly, author of The Book of Lost Things and NY Times bestseller The Black Angel. I happen to appreciate long sentences over stubby ones. For me, your style rocks!
9.face the size of Alberta= which no American would say, so now I know where this takes place and where you are, both very helpful. I rarely see Canada-based stories other than on Urbis. I find the fact that this is, interesting; and think it will make the tale a good read.
10. “tag Thompson, one of the other boys, three feet from his dad.” You just said you two and three other boys are there, so unless we are idiots we know who Thompson has to be. Try “tag Thompson three feet from his dad.”
11.vice like left handed grip. Dashes in vice like and left handed. I’m not doing it cuz on urbis a dash strikes out a lot of words around it. Maybe that’s why you didn’t.
12.Because you say “his dad had him by the—, not his dad had had him by, you don’t need ” He’d yelled like King Kong.” He yelled. And it’s still ok to say “I’d gotten 3 academic awards”. You can refer/not refer to this being in the past as you like, as we all get that it is. But in doing one, don’t follow with the other willy-nally, use the past tense sparingly to remind us this is a flashback, not alternately with present tense which is awkward
13. Thompson did one up on shaking… (good)
14. “What I do remember is being at home and taking a dust cloth out of the cupboard before wiping down every piece of furniture in my room.” Excellent! You are very good at showing, not telling. Incidently the main character in The Book of Lost Things is OCD too.
15.”one to match each of the detentions Jimmy managed to rack up that day” (good). DO I really need to tell you every good part/ it would take forever.
16.Don’t let anyone make you stress this sentence; it is legit (see above-mentioned novels); “By the end of grade seven I’d gotten a record setting score on my provincial testing, a Canadian Youth award (etc)”-and I like it.
17.’my halo intact’, ‘those poor kids that smelled on occasion’,the entire last paragraph of section 1 are great. The paragraph is beautiful in its perceptiveness.
Section 2
1.’in the yearbook I’d gotten voted most likely to marry a robot of my own creation.’ Please don’t make me tell you why I love this.
2.spinsterhood-haha.Well, when I write ” I’d rather do the extra credit problems at the back of my math book”, I mean something is torturous!
3.’Standing on the corner at the end of the street opposite to us was’ : change to “Standing on the corner was”. We know you just reached a street end/intersection/corner.
4.’wafting across the street’ you would not smell her. I know cuz I knew a fellow who never changed out of his clothes in a year, cleaned a lot of dog poop and had so many indoor dogs his house reeked, so his clothes did; if I opened my door to him (screened door still latched), I’d think he’d just stepped in some dog poop and run get wet paper towels or something; then, when he didn’t use him, I’d realize he hadn’t-it was his natural odor. But no matter which way the wind was blowing his effluvium didn’t cross the street . It’s a close-proximity thing, in reality, lucky for us all , I guess.
5. Thumbs hooked in his jeans reminds me of Buffy Ste. Marie’s song “Guess Who I Saw in Paris, standing in the street with his thumbs hooked in his jeans, looking all of 17.” Makes me like this, anyway..
6.”like a rain storm in Gobi” tells me what a rainstorm in Gobi must be like
7. “walking through strangely soft uncut grass” Ooh! I love it! (Such grass)
8.’Once Jimmy and I were upstairs I threw…’ =At first seems to be “Once when Jimmy and I..” Try a comma after upstairs to stop the confusion.
9.Entire 16th paragraph shows rare insight for an unpublished work. You should go places!
10. ‘His whispered breath flowed softly near my ear’. Nice. Many do this part wrong, saying “whispers sighed” or “his whisper hit my face” when it’s his breath that moved. Whisper is a sound, not moving air
11.’An odd pause and a rustling of the blankets had Jimmy slipping his right arm over my shoulders’ very good selection of words for this sentence
12. ‘He teased’: unneccessary as we know that’s about what he’s doing but you could say “He is teasing” or “He was teasing” as a sentence here after his words. Not as how he delivered them (Tom Swiftisms; “I’ll put the kettle on, he teased.) You do have the period right but it makes an odd sentence, “He teased.” Do NOT say “He was teasing” without the period before it. It’s an observation on your character’s part, not a manner of speaking like yelled, cried,whispered.
13. “thinking as my feet automatically led my to” should be led me to. Led my brain, etc. And thinking what? I get that she wasn’t thinking of the way home, or the walk, by your bit about her feet being on automatic.(In automatic? I don’t drive.) But why say thinking at all? To show it was about other than what went on automatically. We’d assume, about the kiss and all. But why not disclose what, so slight morons can get it?
14. ‘say goodbye, it set an eerie’: setting an eerie glow upon his skin.(or “goodbye. It set..”)
15.’crisp starry night’ rolls off the tongue sweetly
Sec.3
1. ‘I took extra note of the crappy way his father treated him’: insight into protagonist; she’s a good friend to her friends
2. soda on me. I drew
3.’during pool to figure out strategic angles’: cool main character! (ever see Ice Princess with Hayden Pannitierre?)
4. ‘I needed them to feel part of a crowd, sort of like a family.’ Astute observation
5. ‘at the end of a dirt road that wound around all the twists and turns of the lake.’ (good descriptive passage, I see it )
6.’flower arrangements’ and “water screaming, splashing and begging for pneumonia.” You are fun to read.
Section 4
1.’He had however managed to set up giant amps worth more than all my scholarships put together and enough kegs to satisfy a small country. People were everywhere, dancing, kissing, drinking, puking, you name it they were doing it.’ (Every word is a good choice)
2. ‘was guarded, but there was a sad sheen to his eyes’ nice
3. ‘shook my head so that the little ringlets I’d thrown into my ponytail quivered’very good imagery
4.to do some whatever equations in my head (neat!
)
5.this you said prior: ”..never said that, Jimmy” (add comma)
6. “he was totally gone as far as reasonable thinking went” good
7.I thought it was Ray’s party
8. ‘eavesdropping to.’ (on)
9. Great description of the puzzle metaphor and leash tied to ankle-very perceptive kid
10. I’m guessing a guy named John turned into Jimmy for this story. Guess how I got that!
Part 5
1. Transfer the goods from the house, not transfer to goods from there
2.’Be cars on a freeway and exit, Jimmy’ ( you-all say this -is it cliched up there- or is it an original?) I like it
3.’crystal clear night’ (here’s what I mean by cliche)
4. ‘he walked slowly backwards towards it, watching me’ (now I see Bill Murray at the end of Lost in Translation; makes the image resonate with meaning, I bet she was stoked
5.’that all everyone’s lives are is cages without keys for the locks’ (that a person’s life is just a locked cage with no key? It’s a bit awkward. Everyone is singular. Everyone is looking for respect vs. are looking. You got that. Everyone’s life, not lives; so,... life is a cage w/o a key for the lock. “All everyone’s life is, is a locked cage” : though symantics are right, the ease of reading your writing is gone. So I’d say “life is just a..”)’All anyone’s life is’ works a bit better.
6.’Hopefully’, they say in every how to write book, is a very bad choice and should never be used. Like with “gainfully employed”, which does not mean I’m full of gain, hopefully doesn’t mean “I hope” or “am full of hope”
7. ‘troubled and mentally unchallenged youth’ sounds better than “terrible and mentally challenged”. Because they’ve not been challenged by their school curriculum they are bored and seek adventure.
8.good plothole plugging, your guess at what “left a bunch of crack free and unaccounted for in their hands” Good story-telling.
9.Jimmy doing too much crack to show he’s over it- just cuz she didn’t want to be-I mean, according to your psychology here, wasn’t
an exhibitionist. Real mature-too bad he never got past that and left us with that small person for memories
10. ‘aside from Jimmy’ (ordinarily, beside, but I love ‘aside’ here and hope
it’s Canada-speak and legit and can stay in. I know it’s cowboy talk
11.’their seatbelt’ (his, or a, seatbelt)
12. ‘like to think Jimmy didn’t know that last one was in the car’: good story-telling
13.Judge had been having affair with one of the crack dealers- a little far-fetched. Not necessary to plot: a friend’s daughter on drugs took out a pillar of society that the judge did not know and, possibly due to the way the reporters loved to poke at this girl because all her statements were so clownish, judge gave her 26 years for negligent manslaughter. 30 for 3 lives isn’t so bad and your judge doesn’t need deeper motivation and it smells of “a cooked” plot turn, an esteemed judge jeopardizing her career to be with a crack using kid her kids’ age.
14.speaking of cooked plots stinking: party Friday, she does math Sat and Sun, 2 days have passed when she sees the article. Or, as you say before then, 3 weeks have passed since the party: either way, he wouldn’t have been to trial yet.(Not in U.S., anyway)We do a pre-sentencing investigation to see what the driver is all about and if he deserves a break or is a chronic criminal. For murder they take long times picking juries, saying trial must be moved to a diff city due to slandering press..before sentencing is the trial for guilty or not, then the sentencing trial. If Canada locks them up for 30 years in just 2 days I would run from that country.
15.sorry = next sentence clarifies this. But you never make that clear till after it looks like it was all in that day’s paper.
16.second from last paragraph sounds like Connolly again-very good response to therapist (in her mind)...but I thought sentences were not supposed to end with “of”. let’s see how Connolly’s kid reacts to such words by his shrink: “David wondered if Dr. Mobley was a real doctor.” (good understatement, no “He wondered if it was(an improvement), after all…”)
You could say “is hardly something I would think called for pride”. (To not end with “of”.)
17. Pat ending, first sentence doesn’t hook reader, title poor like you thought. The very end winds up sounding like a newspaper story. Too much narrtive, no more conversation. Better opening: I’m just sitting in my room, contemplating social suicide. (Then leave social suicide out where you do have it,and say only the “missing it is an omission of a substantially historical occurrence”.
Title: “Peanut Butter and Jelly”; “In the Rabbit Hole”
end: “There are no dreamers here” replacing “It’s like Jimmy says..”
Another title idea: “There Are No Dreamers Here” “The Day the Rabbit Dug His Hole”
Lots of luck but this is not a lucky piece , it is skilled
your goals: I have never seen how to offer these selections like this, but now think they come automatically when you select several goals, explaining the “I would like to see this published”-the I is you and you selected it for a goal; well, it doesn’t translate well when we are to say your chances of acheiving that goal. You say you want to publish it, so we’d all check 10 cuz the chances you’d like to see it published are 100%. Bonus credits, everybody! Well, I rated it on if I would like to see it published. Where do you see what they selected? I have never seen even where to tell what score I got when I had one goal. Where is the 8, the 10, the 1 they give us revealed to us at? I’d appreciate if you told me, urbis doesn’t want to hear from me for awhile, I had too many problems too long
p.S. And I haven’t been able to see my previews in 60 days so there will be errors because I cannot edit what I cannot ever see. But-if this is not in order, Section 1 , up, or any of my numbers aren’t, or you see an orphaned sentence or one not making sense tacked to a number not about its subject, it is urbis as usual spitting back my paragraphs anyplace in the review they want to , while telling me that’s not possible.
trismugistus reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
Okay, first overall comment is that maqny of your paragraphs are way too long. I appreciate paragraphs can sometimes be arbitrary, stylistic things affected by personal taste, but if this was laid out in standard manuscript format some of your paragraphs would be getting on for 2 pages long, and that’s just too long. Shortening paragraphs always give a piece more punch and makes it more engaging for any reader.
Second overall comment is you’re tending to er very much on the side of telling us the story, not showing it to us. By this I mean a lot of things are presented as the narrator telling us what happened as fasts, rather than the narrator describing the unfolding of a scene to us. As a specific example, in the part where the narrator and Jimmy are scrawling words everywhere, this would be far better relayed as an active scene, not a passive telling us what happened. It has great potential for drama--the sound of the teachers voices outside, her sudden regret at this one act of anarchy--but that’s lost because you dryly tell us what happened. We need more active dialogue, not “this is what I told him”.
It’s also written a lot in flashback/reminiscent, which I would suggest you would be better to avoid, especially so much up front. Flashback has the disadvantage of disengaging readers because it’s fait accompli—it’s happened, done, finnished, whereas readers will engage better with the now and the immediate, because there’s the possibility of development and change.
I’m rather puzzled as to what your narrators own feelings are—at some points it feels like they’re being comically dismissive, but at others straight self-critical, and it gives things an odd unsure feeling. Does this person truly not like themselves? Are they full of regret? Or just a bit frustrated with themselves? If so why is she quite so down on the kids smoking pot?
There are also some odd turns of phrase, and your characters voice seems to shift between very colloqueial and very ostentatious. An early one that stuck out particularly was “giggle nonsensically”, which didn’t really add up, given the sense of her gigiggling was provided in the text before it. Try not to be too flamboyant with language, unless your character is always flamboyant. Simple always has the advantage of clearity for all readers, and the cleverness in your writing is not wrapped up in a matter of choosing ‘clever’ words, but in what you’re communicating to your readers. Another one was “They’ve severely taken for granted my rule abiding persona.” which just seemed very odd.
Generally you want to be avoiding “ly”s as much as you can. Generally when you’re using them it’s because you think what you’re saying is weak, or you’re not giving enough space to what you actually want to convey, so here we end up with “severely taking for granted” which is contradictory and hence a little confusing. You can’t severely do something that implies a lack of caring.
It also feels like you’re padding things a little un-necessarily, which ties back a little to the paragraph problem.
There’s a bit of a jump from them being ten to the next part, where Jimmy’s apparantly old enough to shave—some sort of “5/6/7 years later” might have helped make the length of the jump clearer more quickly.
The bit I like the most is when Jimmy makes a pass at the narrator. To me that scene works the best of what you’d written, although I’m not sure I would have taken it in the direction you did—I would have had it endign there, and be the source of her regrets, but it would be a significantly different story.
There are a tiny handful of grammatical type errors, but I think you’d catch those in a redraft (I could point them out if you really wanted, but there aren’t many).
I think a lot of what I feel, however, can be summed up in this sentance: “A few minutes before they’d sent someone out to transfer to goods from the house.” Basically when you read somethging like this it lacks flow. There should be a part where you just say “person x went fetch the drugs” or somethgin like that. With it written liek this it just feels like you slotted the point in afterwards—not that it was planned, or the relaying of events as they happened. It’s feels too much like convenience and coincidences nd telling us the story, not showing it to us.
Some more specific bits:
To me, this part seems a little bit contradictory: ”...instead of holding on to my hurt I drowned myself…”. To me, avoiding the emotion is holding on to it—the opposite would be to say ’...insead of letting out/embracing my emotions, I… did whatever’
Jimmy suddenly becoming a great orrator and expert on the human condition seems a bit out of place, even though you say it’s unusual--it still seems the language is too much. It’s one thing for him to make some deep insight, another for him express it so eloquently. This is partly tieing back to the lack of any real scenes before too--the only hint we’ve gotten of speach is the poorly spelled scrawls. We need somethign more before this to have a feel for how Jimmy actually speaks.
Your section 3 needs to before the “Usually…” paragraph, as that’s the clear break between parts.
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I think you’ve got the good core of a great story here, but it’s a little clumsily told. My big suggestion would be to restructure it all, and base it around session with the psychiatrist. Have her talking to the shrink, relaying the events. The whole Jimmy thing is pretty traumatic, so that could be the launch off point.
Elf reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
First section, 7th paragraph…
“this had been his method to of trying”
That to in there really just needs to be taken out. It retracts from the sentence and as soon as I read it it stuck out like a thumb painted purble.
I find the dream about Jimmy as a rabit borderline, its almost to weird. It acutlay kind a made me laugh at first, I cant say for sure if its a good idea or not. I dont have any sugestions about it but it strices me as really oud.
beggining for the first sentence in the therd stanza of the therd section. lol
“I think Jimmy had gone out five months”
I think hummy and I had gone out…is what I beleave you mean right?
Last paragraph of section 4.
“I knew John didn’t do crack anymore,”
unless there is a love triangle hidden in your story I think you ment Jimmy there…right.
I honestly after reading it all dont know if I like the story its self of not. Its writen pretty good exept for a few minor mistakes here and there like I have pointed out, but I question the moral of it. It seams almost hopeless…i dont know if that was the afect you where going for.
I dont personaly beleave ther people cant change, so I dont agree with the message you give, though I understand the feeling behind it. I dont feel this is a great story, but it is well writen and with work it can be a good one. But for what it is…for how you bring it forth, I dont think it can go much high then that.
That is rather harsh I know. You have many beautiful frases in this peace, and alot of truth in it as well, but a story like this…its hard, i will just leave it at that.
I do what to say that you have alot of time to make this story better, your young and you know alot mroe about writing then I did at your age. Good work
