Young Adult / On the Other Side: Part Three

“What?” I finally spurted out, attempting to make some type of logical sense out of his words.  James’ eyes glanced at me for a moment before going back down to the front page of the paper.  In my indignation, I slammed my hand against the mahogany table.  

His brown eyes flickered up, filled with contempt. “I believe you speak English, son, though sometimes I wonder where you retrieved your terrible slang from.” He gave a short, withering smirk.  “I also believe you understand precisely the instructions I passed down to you, no?”

My teeth bit into the soft flesh of my cheek, a method I had learned from many slaps Vanessa gave when I spoke out of turn.  A bleeding mouth was better than a bruised cheek.

“Yes sir,” I mumbled as I stood from the chair.  He no longer had a reason for me to stay, so I rose from my seat and hurried off.  I refused to placate him any longer.  A half an hour of quality time was fair enough, and I did not need to dawdle around.

“Oh, and Vincent?”

I stopped shortly and glanced back. “Yes?”

The front of the news paper, this time the local ‘Ventra Observer’ was hap-hazardly strewn across the table.  “No make up.  We don’t want to scare them off before they even arrive.  You aren’t precisely the most pleasant thing to look at after and eighteen hour flight.  I should know.”  

I did not answer his apparent jeer, but walked out of the room without screaming or stomping.  My temper tantrums were like a small child wanting a toy; I never won, no matter the circumstance.

My feet carried me away from the man, the voice inside of my head seethed.  How angry my father could make me in only a few simple moments was astounding.  While I had never cared what he believed but his suggestion that I would scare away children was vile.  I was not a monster.

I was in my room, and had already passed everything without even noticing what had happened.  My room was an honest mess: candy wrappers laid scattered across the desk and rumpled clothes littered the floor.  My bed, which still was not tidied up, was drenched in dark green sheets, the corner of the fitted sheet hung limply from the side.  Papers upon papers were thrown hap-hazardly under the bed, their white ends sticking out.  Neatness never had been a necessity.  The maids often attempted to clean up my battered room, but none ever stayed long, with my step-mother screaming for help or about some other commodity which was left unfinished.

I threw myself into the nearby computer chair, and it swiveled below my weight.  I sat there, staring at the posters which adorned my walls.  Some were of bands I had only listened to once, but contained enough graphic blood or body parts my step-mother avoided my room, as long as there was no reason for yelling.

At ten o’clock, the morning sun already hidden between massive storm clouds, my father knocked on my door.

“You need to go to the airport, now.” The paper that was clutched in his hand was passed on to me.  It had, to my knowledge, the information of the two ‘children’ who were coming to live out the rest of their terrible childhood with my family and I.

“Oh joy,” I mumbled sarcastically.  

James glared. “You insult them you can say goodbye to your car.” He snapped as the door shut, the sound reverberating.  

I rolled my eyes and looked down at the paper.  It was, as I expected, information about the flight, from New York. I sighed; there was no time for me to hide under the bed and hope for the best.

I changed into actual clothes, a pair of old jeans and a tee shirt which did not have anything which would ‘frighten’ any child.  

The hallway was silent and when I snapped the door shut behind me I expected one of the maids to bustle by, but they didn’t. I walked back down the stairs, ignoring my step-mother who lay on the couch, the television lulling her into a drunken state of oblivion.

“I’m going,” I said, only receiving a gurgle in response.  I slipped from the living room and out the front door.  The previous night I had left my red sweatshirt in the car, not believing I would need it. Now, however, I was regretting my miscalculation.

It was cold. The temperature was one that really belonged in Russia, where the sub-arctic weather was actually enjoyed. How it was enjoyed I could give no answer to, especially the aching between my legs proving that a certain sex would most certainly have a very big issue with it. Maybe there was a large populations of eunuchs?

“Cold, cold!” My voice seemed to be frozen in the air where it came out as I ran forward, my hands clasped around the keys to my car, wishing that I had parked a little closer. Too far away. Too cold. Too many people living under the same roof.

My sweater sat curled between my back pack and the car door, as if it was attempting to escape. “Me too,” I whispered, grabbing at the red sleeve. The words ‘CALIFORNIA’ flashed by my eyes in bold black lettering. A large stain was present on the front, but was no longer wet. My neon green fingernails dug into the shirt, to perhaps scratch out the stain, but nothing I attempted worked.

Silently I pulled the sweater over my head.
The engine to the car started with a magnified boom, and after fiddling with the heater’s dial for a moment I began to make my way toward the city of rain—the city suicides and heroin-addicts.

By the time the airport was within seeing distance the rain was pelting down cold drops of sewer water. The woman who handed me the ticket gave a long look of loathing at my car from her clear plastic poncho. I hoped that the woman wouldn’t whip out a set of car spikes as I passed, her crinkly hand informing me to keep driving.

I walked through the thick silence of the garage, staring intently at the paper James had handed to me. It was then that I noticed the small hitch in my father’s brilliant plan. And now, because of his stupidity, I was going to end up having to deal with two people who had been stuck inside of an airport with all of their luggage for the past twelve hours.

My father was going to hang me.

Better yet, those kids inside of the airport were going to do the job for him.

No more air, no more breath—I did hope that they would have enough mercy to let Mikey bury me. Hallie would cry and Jamie would be stuck comforting her. And poor, deranged Danny. He wasn’t going to take my death well. I owed him fifteen bucks from the week before; he could play a mean game of poker.

My parents, well… it was their own fault.

Taking in a breath, my lungs filling, my dramatic moment ceasing to exist, I lifted up my feet and continued to trudge forward. No point in not finishing James’ plan. The two still needed to be dropped off at the house. Maybe I could get the two to spare me, but attack Vanessa the moment they got into the house.

There was hope… no more than the fleeting idea of it, however.

The escalators made a sound akin to squealing. Sharp and painful, but for some reason I was the only person who could hear it. The woman and her small child clutched in her frail arms was blinking incessantly, and the couple behind me was too absorbed in their own conversation to notice the shrill sound of the machinery below their feet. Never having been good with people I didn’t know, I said nothing about the sound.

A crowd had already gathered around where the waiting area was, a new plane coming from wherever its destination had been. I walked through the balloon bouquets and the flowers, children holding on to their parent’s shoulders, pointing and giggling at whatever struck their fancy for that brief moment of time. Three planes, all bright and cheerful of colors, colors that didn’t belong in Seattle, went along the asphalt, and I looked away. The brightness bothered my eyes.

Narrowly escaping the clutches of a little by who thought I was his uncle (how that came along I found confusing, considering my age, height, and the dirty clothes), I wandered down to a more reclusive area. The floor, a deep hunter green, contrasted with the random bags that laid scattered around, strewn wherever someone was not sleeping or working.

It’s strange how I knew it was them before they stood up or even bothered to look up at me. Something inside of me was screaming for me to turn, to run, fill up my car with gas and not turn back for three hundred miles. Something inside of me told me that there was nothing pleasant in that waiting room, a cue to break free from the world I was in.

But there was no time once the black-haired girl looked up from where her nails were digging into her plain gray dress.

Should have ran when I had the chance.

I walked forward.

Everything changed.

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catluckey avatar General Stranger

November 11, 2008

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FrakKevin avatar General Stranger

August 17, 2008

FrakKevin

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FrakKevin reviewed Version 1 - Read 100% of the Item

I’ve read the previous chapters and so far it’s okay. It’s still coming off as the rich kid with a billion problems, but judging by what you said in the notes…this will change. You also are a very good writer…more skilled than me. You dont seem to rush your stories to get to a certain point and give a good amout of detail to give a clear understanding of who this character is.

Marvin avatar General Stranger

August 16, 2008

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“What?” I finally spurted out, attempting to make some type of logical sense out of his words. -—straight off, mind too many words.  ”What?” I spurted, attempting to make sense of his words.  (trimming the fat is always a good idea- better piece of meat that way)

“My teeth bit into the soft flesh of my cheek, a method I had learned from many slaps Vanessa gave when I spoke out of turn.  A bleeding mouth was better than a bruised cheek.”—this is a fine action and exposition.  well done.  

“My room was an honest mess:”—as opposed to a dishonest mess?  kill “honest.”

“into actual clothes,”—same thing: “actual” isn’t a good modifier.  think of another way to describe it.  

the narrator’s internal thoughts and monologues are useful at times.  at other times, not so much.  when describing and action or a past event, they’re good.  but- “Maybe there was a large populations of eunuchs?”—and some of the previous lines are the long way to showing just how “cold” it is.  make it more concise.

the narrator pulling her sweater on slows down the narrative as well. it’s cute, talking to a personified sweater trying to escape the cold, but it’s superfluous.  keep the action moving or you risk boring your readers.

overall, you do a wonderful job with description, and movement, and dialog.  you’re good.  but it was a bit of a challenge to maintain interest, i must be honest with you.  up until the end, i got no real sense of tension.  however, the ending IS tense, and filled with anticipation, and offers a nice springboard to propel you to the next chapter.  well done there.

my only criticism would be to keep a sharp eye on what you want to say and how you’re going to say it.  the narrator’s movement from house to airport is filled with unnecessary speedbumps and exposition.  some of it works, some of it isn’t needed.  

but you’re a good writer and you can certainly tell a story.  keep working.  thanks.  

oknapp avatar General Stranger

August 15, 2008

oknapp Prolific-icon-medium

REVIEW QUALITY: 100.0%(1 vote ) personal info reviewer stats
oknapp reviewed Version 1 - Read 100% of the Item

“What?” I finally spurted out. This doesn’t sound right. Spurted is not a good word here.
withering smirk. To wither means to wilt. Find another word, please.

I was in my room, and had already passed everything without even noticing what had happened. This sentence is ambigous.  What or who passed?

My room was an honest mess: Take out the word “honest” it will stand alone.

“cold drops of sewer water.”
know that the rain is full of pollution , but i might change the wording. People will want ot know why it belongs in a sewer.
Ok, i should have read the first chapters. However what you have here is written well, except for a few little things which i have listed. I would like to see where this is going. oH, You might watch the run-on sentences in the second paragraph. Your characterizations are good. The people are real to me. Keep up the good work, Sandi

mimici avatar General Stranger

August 14, 2008

mimici

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mimici reviewed Version 1 - Read 100% of the Item

nit picks:
bed drenched in sheets-doesn’t make sense to me
Page 3: “It was cold. The temperature was one that really belonged in Russia, where the sub-arctic weather was actually enjoyed. How it was enjoyed I could give no answer to, especially the aching between my legs proving that a certain sex would most certainly have a very big issue with it. Maybe there was a large populations of eunuchs?” I really dislike this whole paragraph. Maybe it works in the young adult ca†egory but reads as immature and annoying. Is this what you want to convey? I already don’t like this character.
Page 5-typo for “boy”.

I think it has promise. If the reader is to feel sympathetic for the boy, you’ll need to make him less annoying. There is the foundation of a good story here and I probably would read on, but be careful with excessive use of adjectives, they are the mark of an amateur. Also trim anything that doesn’t need to be there. The escalators did not make a sound akin to squealing, they squealed, etc.  Writing is rewriting as they say…

Fazzerelli avatar General Stranger

August 14, 2008

Fazzerelli

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Fazzerelli reviewed Version 1 - Read 17% of the Item

The question tag ’...I passed down to you, no?’ Isn’t correct English but is commonly used by foreigners whose languages uses this tag. Was Vincent’s father born in the US, does he have family from outside the US? If so, is this fact relevant to the development of the story?
From the first paragraphs of this section I suppose that Vincent’s father treats his son as a subordiate at work and with coldness and sarcasm. He’s a man not to be questioned. One point about the father and mother is that you refer to them sometimes by name and sometimes not. I couldn’t find a pattern to that and I think there should be. Why would, in the first person, Vincent refers to his father as James? Or why not?
’...and had already passed everything without even noticing what had happened.’ What had happened? I don’t get this part at all. The whole description of Vincent’s room seems a bit misplaced here. Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to the first part where you introduce Vincent. The only relevance here is that Vincent is in his room.
Rolling his eyes is a visual protest but a subtle one, like the sarcasm before, but seeing as his father is on the other side of the door maybe the bird would be a more appropriate expression?
Snapping the door shut sounds strange to my ears (maybe it’s USism), I would use slam or bang.
‘actual clothes’ What was he wearing before?
The whole Russia part seems uninformed and a senseless reference. Try defining the cold in a way more familiar to your personal experience.
I liked Vincent’s imagined death as a tool of teenagers to show the others they’d be sorry.
’...akin to squealing’ Use either squealing or appropriate imagary i.e.: akin to rats in a trap.
Don’t describe what Vincent thought about being mistaken as an uncle but the child’s reaction, which can show the same: ’..., but snatched his hand back when he noticed the nail varnish and sneer I gave him.’

I like the idea the rebellious teenager meets mute and changes life (for better or worse?) I think Martin Burgess also wrote a book for teens about a mute girl, but I can’t remember the title. I’d like to hear a bit more about Vincent’s feelings/thoughts on his father and mother during the story as a tool to reveal himself to the reader. The key for me is how the story develops, as the writing is quite clear and the grammar and punctuation reasonable. It’s too early to tell how attractive this would be to an agent or publisher.

madriter1022 avatar General Stranger

August 13, 2008

madriter1022

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madriter1022 reviewed Version 1 - Read 100% of the Item

You aren’t precisely the most pleasant thing to look at after and eighteen hour flight.
“and” should be an. I’m honestly sorry but your story did not capture my attention at all.

The dialogue is flat and forgetable. It is also very predictable. Where is the big surprise, where is the conflict in the story. The characters need to say things that keep you interested and reading. Make every word count.

Owl_Light avatar General Stranger

August 13, 2008

Owl_Light

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Owl_Light reviewed Version 1 - Read 17% of the Item

the trick with the cheek biting needs elaborating.
noticed too many ‘I’ s which stilted the read.
the spacing between the paragraphs stilts the flow.
The news paper on the table. make this paragraph realistic. imagine or enact it. get a bit of newspaper and put it on a table. what do you see? ..a bit of newspaper. then you would have to do another action to see that it was a front page.
confusion with calling your father James. be consistent.
walked out without screaming or stomping. this is hard to read because the sentence goes backwards. you walked, then you didn’t do something else….
oops, there was something else you didn’t do first.
“I did not answer his apparent jeer, but walked out of the room without screaming or stomping.”
This is not the best way to express the action.
1. you felt it was a jeer. describe what the jeer was. then say how you felt. what was it that made you feel it was a jeer? Who expected you to behave in this childish way? Father did.
sorry. gotta go. hope I’ve helped. write on!

Squamch avatar General Stranger

August 11, 2008

Squamch

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Squamch reviewed Version 1 - Read 100% of the Item

I really, really enjoyed this story, particularly in the context that it will (hopefully) be marketed to teenagers.  First and foremost, your main character will help you commercially.  I work with teens, and the ones that aren’t alienated, wish they were – and they all feel like they are.  I like the make up and the nail polish, and I think it will appeal to a lot of teens.  I work with troubled youth in particular, so it’s kind of an every day thing for me, but kids are always looking for something they can relate to.  I think you have a very relatable lead character.  

That said, there are a number of problem areas that I came across.  Some of them are more major than others – some of them, in fact, are simply a personal preference of mine.  

#1) “I mumbled as I stood from the chair.  He no longer had a reason for me to stay, so I rose from my seat and hurried off.” – Repeatitive.  He already stood up from his chair and then rose from his seat.

#2) “My temper tantrums were like a small child wanting a toy” – Personal taste.  This just doesn’t work for me.  I’m looking for something much more colorful than “child wanting a toy” after you set me up.  Maybe like “the incredible Hulk in nail polish.”  Whatever.  I just think it could be a moment where you make the reader smile, but it falls a bit flat.

#3) “While I had never cared what he believed but his suggestion that I would scare away children was vile.”

#4) You use the word hap-hazardly hap-hazardly. :p  It really stuck out the first time I saw it because I thought it was well-chosen and placed.  But then it popped up a couple of lines down.  Hap-hazardly is kind of an eye catching word, so you have to be careful to space them out.

#5) “Some were of bands I had only listened to once, but contained enough graphic blood or body parts my step-mother avoided my room, as long as there was no reason for yelling.” – Maybe “body parts that my step-mother” would work better.  Also, you might want to specify that you’re talking about the posters and not the bands.

#6) “You insult them you can say goodbye to your car.” – Needs either the word “and” or some form of punctuation.  Maybe… “You insult them – you can say goodbye to your car.”  That’s just me – I abuse the hyphen.  A semi-colon might also work, but there’s nothing wrong with using “and.”

#7) “The temperature was one that really belonged in Russia, where the sub-arctic weather was actually enjoyed. How it was enjoyed I could give no answer to, especially the aching between my legs proving that a certain sex would most certainly have a very big issue with it.” – Personal preference again, but I don’t like when a second sentence furthers a joke made in the first, particular if the joke has little to do with the focus of the story.  I liked the line about Russua and how Russians enjoy their weather, but when you kept going for it, it seemed overdone.  I don’t think the extra joke was good enough to merit the extra attention away from the story.

#8) “the city suicides and heroin-addicts.” – Simple typo, I’m thinking.

#9) “By the time the airport was within seeing distance the rain was pelting down cold drops of sewer water” – The sewer water metaphor doesn’t really work for me here.  Seems to take things off-track and maybe over-does it, so to speak.  Maybe something a little more abstract like “cold drops of bleak” or “cold drops of…” something that says “blah” or “mundane,” which I think is kind of the image you’re going for.

#10) “my dramatic moment ceasing to exist” – A little too straight forward, I think.  Maybe “fading like steam” or “lifting like a cloud.”

I do think you’re really on the right track here, even having not seen the previous installments.  It’s light enough for a teen reader, but not so light that you insult their intelligence.  As I said, the main character is a great hook, and the parents (particularly the father) are well thought out.  I’d consider toning down the mother a bit though – I thought the gurgling might have been a bit excessive, especially since the father seems so bent on impressions.  

Thanks for the read.

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rsaioxkreual

Age: 17
Loc: United States
Gen: F
Last Login: October 03
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