Rev 1: Tried to smooth out pronoun vs name usage
Rev 2: Implemented some edits from Chris, and put some new lines in.
Rev 3: Made fixes for clarity and content
Rev 4: More show less tell, and other fixes
Tyler thought that his father had probably gotten over the disappointment of having a son that would never clean a fish, or even bait a hook—at least he hoped he had. They would never even play catch in the yard. The only thing they seemed to have in common was a love for movies, and while he didn’t miss his parent’s nightly arguments, he did miss watching old movies together, especially the ones from the 80’s when his dad had been in high school—even if they were pure fantasy.
He was sure there must be some school out there that was like all those old John Hughes' movies, where the freaks and outcasts would join the popular kids to realize they were all the same on the inside. There’d be hugs, and tears, and no more assholes in homeroom. Yeah, that school was probably in New York, or California where everyone went surfing at lunch. It wasn't Hamilton High.
Hamilton was an ugly brick compound that looked prepared for the collapse of civilization. Its dull linoleum halls seemed to repel the layers of watered down Pine-Sol that were mopped on every day. He always wondered when they’d put in the guard towers.
He met Ally after fourth period English by their lockers. “Did you bring your dad’s old costume?” he asked.
She pulled a long black cape out of her backpack. “I brought the gloves too, in case you wanted them.”
Her parents did community theater, and each Halloween her dad was a different Andrew Lloyd Webber character. Last year, he was the Phantom of the Opera. It was all good, until he started singing the parts—which always drove Ally crazy. “Who’s he going as this year?” he asked, as he folded the cape into his backpack.
“He’s Asparagus, Gus from Cats.” She puckered her lips as if tasting something bitter. “I think he likes the irony of being a theater cat. If I have to hear one more time about the ‘palsy that makes his paw shake,’ I’m leaving home.”
This was nothing new. When he first met her, Ally was running away from one injustice or another—real or imagined. The first time was when she couldn't go to Chuck E. Cheese’s. She'd graduated from those early attempts to now threatening her parents’ way of life, running away from their values—probably to be an accountant or a lawyer, or some other faceless, corporate drone that her bohemian parents despised. He thought her mom and dad were a lot better than what he was stuck with—his Mom being some weird ass Joan of Arc, and his dad being a sexed-up Ward Cleaver.
“So tonight we’ll meet at the cemetery. My mom thinks your parents are driving us to the chur…” his voice trailed off as his eyes moved over her head. Michaela Winters was wearing some type of cat suit. Thank God the dress code was usually overlooked today. It was like a coat of dark paint on her skin.
Fingers were snapping in front of his face. Ally glared at him, “Over here. I don’t know what you see in her—she’s so obvious.” She exaggerated her hips mimicking a sultry sway.
“Oh look guys; little Ally’s trying to be all grown up.” Tyler starting cursing under his breath, and turned to face a smirking Jack Wilson flanked by his two cronies: Mark the Toad, and Seth the Gorilla. To say Toad and Gorilla were Jack’s friends would be an overstatement. It would imply that any of them were capable of human emotion. These three had been responsible for making his time in middle school the closest thing to a prison sentence he could imagine, minus the orange coveralls.
“I thought the toilets were backed up again,” said Ally wrinkling her nose, “but I see it’s just you guys. It’s called a bath Jack. You should try it more than once a year.”
Jack gave what Tyler guessed was supposed to be a seductive look. It came off like a cross between a leer and constipation. “Oh, you’re not my type sweetie,” he said. “I like my women with a few more curves. I could do you a favor though and break you in.”
“I've never been propositioned by a landfill before. I’m flattered I really am.” Her voice was frosty.
“Jack, just leave. I’m sure there’s a kitten somewhere you can drown,” Tyler said. He was so tired of this.
“Oh, Ty, were you lonely?” Jack gave a quick nod, and he felt his backpack torn off his shoulder. He turned to see Toad toss it in one quick motion over his head. “What do we have here?” Jack pulled the cape out dropping the backpack.
“I loaned it to him. It’s a costume. Give it back.” He knew Ally well enough to hear the implied threat, and the promise of escalation. Any response from her though was cut short, when Michaela stepped up behind Jack.
Jack wrapped the cape around himself. “Oh, is it a dress? Going in drag Ty, it suits you.”
“Did you just say you were going in drag? Sorry, Hun, I don’t think you've got the legs for it,” Michaela said running a hand down the cape appraisingly. He stiffened sucking in his gut, and threw the cape at Tyler’s feet.
“Hey.” Jack nodded to Michaela.
She ignored the nod, poking Tyler's chest lightly with her finger. “It’s Tyler right. Are you coming to my party? You can bring your girlfriend.”
“Ally's not my girlfriend.” He would later tell himself that Michaela touching him had short circuited something in his brain, and his mouth went on autopilot. What he said had an “are you kidding me?” quality to it. He looked at Ally, and already knew how she'd take it. Her eyes were flinty. We’re both not seeing anyone would have been better.
“Well then you can come too,” she said touching Ally’s arm. For a moron, Jack, still caught the exchange and started to laugh. The bell announcing fifth period algebra stopped it from becoming any more awkward. He tried to slow Ally down by putting a hand on her shoulder on the way to class, but she brushed it off without saying a word. This day had officially turned to shit.
Rev 2: Implemented some edits from Chris, and put some new lines in.
Rev 3: Made fixes for clarity and content
Rev 4: More show less tell, and other fixes
Chapter 2
Tyler thought that his father had probably gotten over the disappointment of having a son that would never clean a fish, or even bait a hook—at least he hoped he had. They would never even play catch in the yard. The only thing they seemed to have in common was a love for movies, and while he didn’t miss his parent’s nightly arguments, he did miss watching old movies together, especially the ones from the 80’s when his dad had been in high school—even if they were pure fantasy.
He was sure there must be some school out there that was like all those old John Hughes' movies, where the freaks and outcasts would join the popular kids to realize they were all the same on the inside. There’d be hugs, and tears, and no more assholes in homeroom. Yeah, that school was probably in New York, or California where everyone went surfing at lunch. It wasn't Hamilton High.
Hamilton was an ugly brick compound that looked prepared for the collapse of civilization. Its dull linoleum halls seemed to repel the layers of watered down Pine-Sol that were mopped on every day. He always wondered when they’d put in the guard towers.
He met Ally after fourth period English by their lockers. “Did you bring your dad’s old costume?” he asked.
She pulled a long black cape out of her backpack. “I brought the gloves too, in case you wanted them.”
Her parents did community theater, and each Halloween her dad was a different Andrew Lloyd Webber character. Last year, he was the Phantom of the Opera. It was all good, until he started singing the parts—which always drove Ally crazy. “Who’s he going as this year?” he asked, as he folded the cape into his backpack.
“He’s Asparagus, Gus from Cats.” She puckered her lips as if tasting something bitter. “I think he likes the irony of being a theater cat. If I have to hear one more time about the ‘palsy that makes his paw shake,’ I’m leaving home.”
This was nothing new. When he first met her, Ally was running away from one injustice or another—real or imagined. The first time was when she couldn't go to Chuck E. Cheese’s. She'd graduated from those early attempts to now threatening her parents’ way of life, running away from their values—probably to be an accountant or a lawyer, or some other faceless, corporate drone that her bohemian parents despised. He thought her mom and dad were a lot better than what he was stuck with—his Mom being some weird ass Joan of Arc, and his dad being a sexed-up Ward Cleaver.
“So tonight we’ll meet at the cemetery. My mom thinks your parents are driving us to the chur…” his voice trailed off as his eyes moved over her head. Michaela Winters was wearing some type of cat suit. Thank God the dress code was usually overlooked today. It was like a coat of dark paint on her skin.
Fingers were snapping in front of his face. Ally glared at him, “Over here. I don’t know what you see in her—she’s so obvious.” She exaggerated her hips mimicking a sultry sway.
“Oh look guys; little Ally’s trying to be all grown up.” Tyler starting cursing under his breath, and turned to face a smirking Jack Wilson flanked by his two cronies: Mark the Toad, and Seth the Gorilla. To say Toad and Gorilla were Jack’s friends would be an overstatement. It would imply that any of them were capable of human emotion. These three had been responsible for making his time in middle school the closest thing to a prison sentence he could imagine, minus the orange coveralls.
“I thought the toilets were backed up again,” said Ally wrinkling her nose, “but I see it’s just you guys. It’s called a bath Jack. You should try it more than once a year.”
Jack gave what Tyler guessed was supposed to be a seductive look. It came off like a cross between a leer and constipation. “Oh, you’re not my type sweetie,” he said. “I like my women with a few more curves. I could do you a favor though and break you in.”
“I've never been propositioned by a landfill before. I’m flattered I really am.” Her voice was frosty.
“Jack, just leave. I’m sure there’s a kitten somewhere you can drown,” Tyler said. He was so tired of this.
“Oh, Ty, were you lonely?” Jack gave a quick nod, and he felt his backpack torn off his shoulder. He turned to see Toad toss it in one quick motion over his head. “What do we have here?” Jack pulled the cape out dropping the backpack.
“I loaned it to him. It’s a costume. Give it back.” He knew Ally well enough to hear the implied threat, and the promise of escalation. Any response from her though was cut short, when Michaela stepped up behind Jack.
Jack wrapped the cape around himself. “Oh, is it a dress? Going in drag Ty, it suits you.”
“Did you just say you were going in drag? Sorry, Hun, I don’t think you've got the legs for it,” Michaela said running a hand down the cape appraisingly. He stiffened sucking in his gut, and threw the cape at Tyler’s feet.
“Hey.” Jack nodded to Michaela.
She ignored the nod, poking Tyler's chest lightly with her finger. “It’s Tyler right. Are you coming to my party? You can bring your girlfriend.”
“Ally's not my girlfriend.” He would later tell himself that Michaela touching him had short circuited something in his brain, and his mouth went on autopilot. What he said had an “are you kidding me?” quality to it. He looked at Ally, and already knew how she'd take it. Her eyes were flinty. We’re both not seeing anyone would have been better.
“Well then you can come too,” she said touching Ally’s arm. For a moron, Jack, still caught the exchange and started to laugh. The bell announcing fifth period algebra stopped it from becoming any more awkward. He tried to slow Ally down by putting a hand on her shoulder on the way to class, but she brushed it off without saying a word. This day had officially turned to shit.
#
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Cheers/Chris