Writing Wednesday: A Tattered Life

I posted part of this on my Facebook a couple days ago, got some positive comments, so thought I'd post it here. 



Setting it up a bit, this is my book about a journal that travels some miles in a tornado and ends up in the hands of a teenage boy, Jaden Hatch. The journal is written by a girl down on her luck, who at first Jaden thinks of as a loser, but eventually becomes attached to.  Jaden is a douchebag, cheats on his beautiful girl friend, Ava, with Payton, a girl he considers white trash, he's a bully, homophobic and takes his mother, who has raised him alone for granted.  It's prom night and he and best friend Eli are going to pick up their tuxes.

I realize I never asked Payton if she was going to the dance. I’m curious. I text her. Will I c u 2 nite? I throw on sweats and shoes, grab my keys and take off for Eli’s. Time to pick up the tuxes. When I get to his house, I check my phone to see if Payton has texted back. Nothing.

Eli jogs out, dressed much the same as me, and we head to one of the only two tuxedo rental shops in town, Threads. On the way, I say, “You know, you should officially make Maddy your girl tonight.” Maddy is Eli’s prom date and happens to be Ava’s best friend. It would be perfect.

Eli turns to me, lowers his head, raises his an eyebrow and says, “No thanks.”

“But dude. She’s smokin’ hot. And that ass?”

“Again, no.”

“Why?”

“She’s not my type.”

I look over at him to see if he’s full of shit. He looks dead serious. “Are you kidding me? Maddy is everyone’s type.”

“Not everyone.” I shake my head, not believing what I’m hearing.

We enter Threads, and though there’s a line, we’re helped immediately because, well, I’m Jaden Hatch. We pick up our tuxes, mine, black, black shirt with a red vest and tie. Eli’s is all white with a pink vest and bow tie. “You know how gay you look in that?”

“Fuck you, Hatch,” is all he has to say to that. I drop him off and go home.

“Let’s see it!” Mama calls right when I walk in the door.

“Can’t you just see it later?”

Brows wrinkled, pouty lip in full action she says, “I just want a sneak peek.” 

“Fine,” I say rolling my eyes.

I go to my room and lay the tux on my bed. Before taking it out to Mama I check my phone one more time for messages. Have a couple silly texts from Ava about how excited she was about prom, which I care little about and immediately delete. Then Why aren’t u texting me back? Again, delete. Then there was one from Payton. Not if I c u 1^st. Lol.

Cute.

 I unzip the plastic sheath that reminds me of those bags they put dead people in; I pull it off, and when I take the tux out to Mama, she squeals and claps, jumping up and down like a child. When she stops, tears well up in her eyes and she says, “You’re going to look so handsome.” She gawps into my face. “When did you get so old?” She reaches up to brush some hair out of my eyes and I playfully swat her hand away.

“Oh Mama, you’re being silly.”

She wipes her tears away. “Maybe. Now go get your chores done before you run out of time.”

“You’re making me do chores today?”

“Did I stutter? Is it your birthday or some kind of national holiday? No. It’s prom. Now get your ass going.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I hang the tux up in the kitchen doorway.

“Okay, have fun, now. I’m headed to work.”

“Wait. What? Work?”

As she grabs her purse Mama says, “Yes, boy, how do you think that tux and tonight’s dinner and limo are getting paid for. Mom doesn’t stand for Made Of Money. I’ve had to pull extra shifts at the hospital. Make sure Ava’s parents take lots of pictures. Have them text me some.”

Saying nothing, I stand there, nodding stupidly as she leaves. I’m dumbfounded. Mama’s never missed any of the important events in my life, not a football game, an awards assembly…a formal dance. She works a lot, but her nursing job is flexible and she usually takes time off or switches with someone—she doesn’t grab her purse and walk out the door.

I do my chores, and not the half-assed job I normally do, but I do them meticulously because suddenly I’m realizing what Mama sacrifices for me. Maybe I’m still being a prick because this time I see how it affects me, I don’t know, but at least I’m finally noticing, right?

Writing Wednesday: A Tattered Life

This is from my WIP, A Tattered Life. I wrote most of this section last night. First draft. Leave comments if you wish.

When I course up the driveway, gravel crackling beneath my over-sized tires, Mama glances up, only for a second, then gets right back to cleaning up the tornado debris from our yard. She’s pissed, I can tell. I put the truck in park and sit, conjuring up an excuse for being late.

She doesn’t speak to me as I pass her to put my backpack in the house, but I feel her eyes on me, boring a hole straight to my soul. I toss my coat on the couch, run into my room, throw on some shorts, grab a garbage bag and my gloves from the morning, which are right where I left them by the front door.

I run to Mama, grab her by the shoulders and kiss her cheek. “Sorry I’m late, I got detention.”

Her head whips up at me. “Again? What for this time?”

“I towel whipped Duncan Price’s bare ass in the locker room.”

She stares at me for a moment in a state of disbelief, but that usually doesn’t last long, because nothing I do ever surprises her anymore, so I can pretty much tell her anything to get out of trouble. Funny, I’m making up getting in trouble to get out of trouble.

“Very well, but you better leave that boy alone. He could be your boss someday.”

I start picking up garbage. “Mama, are you kidding me? I’m going pro. Duncan may be lots of people’s bosses someday, but he ain’t gonna me mine.”

She stoops over to join me in the garbage collecting. “If you’re going pro you better keep those grades up, make sure you don’t get injured, and stop towel whipping boys in the locker room.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

We work in silence. I don’t dare stop working until Mama gives me a sign that we’re done.

“You hungry?”

“Starved.”

She hands me her bag of garbage, then pulls her gloves off and puts them in my bag. Stretching her spine out, hands on the small of her back, she says, “You take care of those, I’ll start supper.”

I do as she tells me, then go clean up. “Start your homework, Jaden!” Mama calls from the kitchen. A breeze comes through, carrying a trace of fried chicken with it. That meant mashed potatoes or home fries too, and I smell garlic, which Mama always adds to her mashed potatoes. Don’t know if she picked that up in Italy or what, but made them damn good. I hope she doesn’t make brussel sprouts. No matter how big a fit I threw, Mama always made me eat them. Still tells me they’ll make me grow big and strong. I’m 6’2 and 210. How much more big and strong do I need to be?

I grab my backpack, fully intending to do as Mama says and start my homework, but I’m distracted by the crazy chick’s notebook staring at me as soon as I unzip it. I pull it out, lay on my bed, and turn to the next entry.

Wednesday Writing: A Tattered Life

I've not had much time to work on this, but it's my new WIP, based on the 2011 tornadoes that tore through the south. Jock Jaden who doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself, is having a fling with white trash, Payton behind his cheerleader girlfriend's back. He's supposed to be home with his mom picking up tornado debris from his yard. 

He has a lot to learn. 

Feel free to leave comments, but don't forget, it's a first draft.

We fling our seat belts off, move in and reposition our bodies so we’re as close as possible. My hands immediately make my way up Payton’s skirt, hers to my hair. Our desperate lips press together, having missed the forbidden taste of the others for the last twenty-four hours. She climbs up and straddles me, hands moving from my hair to my face. I don’t know why, but I love when she cradles my face in her hands. It feels very…intimate, which sounds stupid coming from me, because I’m not one of those overly sentimental guys. The rest of the gory details I save for Eli.

We sit quiet as we always do when it’s over, for a few minutes anyway. “I should take you home.”

“The bus.”

“Right. The bus.” She shot me a glare. Payton never lets me take her home. Not all the way anyway. It was the bus, or back to the diner, or back to school, or a few blocks away from home. Never just home. One day I think I’ll follow her and find out why.

I pull up to the bus stop, glance around to make no one is looking, then lean in and give Payton a peck on the cheek. She slides out of the truck and grabs her backpack. Before shutting the door she leans in as says, “Jaden, I—,” but stops short. She looks at her feet and stays quiet.

“What is it girl? I gotta get home. My mama’s gonna have my hide as it is.”

Looking back up she flashes a sad smile and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, babe.” I watch her step back from the truck and stand next to the bus stop. I shake my head. For sure, that girl and I have little in common, but there is something between us, I’m just not sure what it is.

Wednesday WIP: Girl in Motion (book formerly known as Cheesy)

Chelsea Reed's dad signs her up for Powder Puff football, even though he knows she's been playing with, and wants to continue playing with the boys at her high school. Little does he know, much of her desire to play football stems from her estranged relationship with him and her longing to strengthen their relationship. 
 

The rest of the week was like time standing still because my first football game caused me 

anxiety. I tossed and turned the night before, barely getting any sleep. In the morning, I trudged down to the kitchen. My dad sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper.

“I need coffee,” I said to no one in particular.

     He peeked at me over the top of his newspaper like I was crazy and said, “Coffee?  You’re a little young for coffee aren’t you?”

 “You are aware that high school kids pretty much live on coffee, pizza, chips, and gum, right?”

     “Hmph,” he said. Seriously, do people really say hmph?

     I poured a cup of coffee, leaving enough room for about half a cup of creamer. I hated the taste of regular coffee. I preferred Starbucks, but I needed the jolt and my only option was the slop in Dad's coffee pot. While I drank my coffee I made myself a breakfast full of good carbs and went and got my uniform on.

     My stomach fluttered, and not in the good way, like when Tommy said nice things to me, but in the bad way like when I’m about to throw up. I sat down on my bed and took a few deep breaths. I pulled on my socks, put my hair in a ponytail, and grabbed my cleats.

     As I walked toward the garage, I stopped at the kitchen table where my dad still sat. I stood for a moment which caught his attention. He glanced up from his paper and said, “What is it?”

     “Um—” I couldn’t ask, knowing the answer would disappoint me.

     “Well, what is it?”

     I stared him square in the eyes and asked, “Are you coming to my game?”

     His gaze immediately shifted back to his newspaper. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

     “Oh, okay.” I admit, even though I knew what the answer would be, it still  disappointed me. I mean, he signed me up for the stupid team with their stupid ugly players and dumb skirts and he didn't even plan to see me play?