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I'm currently writing
I'm currently writing a story, and I would like to post it here. Unfortunately, on the first thread I made about it, someone impersonated me and told the Admins to delete it. So I'm going to repost everything.
I'm too salty to rewrite the whole original introduction, but I would like to point out that many of the main characters in this are LGBTQ+. If that was the reason whoever the impersonater was told the Admins under my name to take it down, then I cannot say how awful that is.
Please don't do it again. To me or to anyone. It feels super, super, super bad. It feels like you're being taken advantage of. Like you're not being regarded as a person.
If you don't like this story, don't read it. That doesn't mean you should steal someone's identity and demand for someone else's hard work be deleted.
Thanks. Here's part one again.
-----
It was one of those things that he never expected to change.
Suddenly it did, and it felt so right that he didn’t question it. And it changed again and again, but he scarcely noticed that everything was different because he was all caught up in the swirl and excitement and joy of living.
Then one day, he was hanging upside down from a branch on that big tree in the backyard that Liza joked would never stop growing and one day swallow up the house and all of Los Angeles. He was holding his phone (tightly, lest he drop it) and laughing as he typed out a text to Jack and Adri and Theo, when he realized that, indeed, he and his life had become very, very, different since the day three years ago that cute, red-haired, freckle-faced boy had come up behind him after Math and asked if he could draw him.
“You want to know if you can… what?” Alex blinked, bewildered, at his questioner.
“Draw you. Oh, sorry—” The boy said sheepishly. “That was weird, wasn’t it? I mean, you seem like a nice person, and you’re really interesting.”
Alex was at a loss for words, which he thought with a kind of amused awe. Alex Quinn, he had been told and acknowledged himself, was very difficult to shut up.
“No! No! Ugh, human interaction is hard, gosh, I’m sorry— Can we start over?” Flustered, the boy ran a hand through his long auburn curls, the other pulling nervously at the edge of his too-large “Black Lives Matter” t-shirt.
Alex grinned. “Sure. I’m Alex Quinn. Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Jack.”
They shook hands. Jack’s palms were soft, and even they were covered in freckles, like someone had dumped cinnamon sugar on him.
Alex gathered his binders and notebooks, carefully stacking them in size order. It was a habit, he supposed, but he wasn’t sure where it had come from— Only that it made him uneasy to have it any other way. It was just one of those things.
“So, why did you want to draw me?”
Jack’s hands started fidgeting, fingers tapping his sides in some sort of rhythm. “I’m an artist, I guess, and I’m best at drawing people, and you seem like… I don’t know.” He paused. “You’re really alive, you know.”
Alex paused at his locker, dumping his supplies in it and kicking the blue metal door shut. After considering a moment, he replied, “I’ve been told it’s really hard to get me to stop talking and moving. Or doing anything I want to be doing, really.”
Jack opened his mouth, seemingly struggling with deciding whether or not to elaborate on that, for a moment before closing his mouth and saying, “That’s kind of what I mean.”
Alex could tell that it wasn’t all that Jack had to say, but he left it be.
They walked in silence for a bit, and Jack glanced over at Alex, trying to commit his appearance to memory, all of his expressive hazel eyes and baggy blue sweatshirt and scuffed up converse and easy posture, the way his mouth upturned slightly as if preparing to say something, and that when he did you’d gosh darn better listen.
“Are you new here?” Jack said finally.
“Yeah,” Alex said as they neared the dark oak double doors that led to the dining hall. “This is my first year at this place. I moved during the summer.”
“From where?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Alex replied, a little too quickly.
Jack also took note of the way Alex bit his lip and ducked his head so his dark brown hair fell into his eyes when he said this, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Catch you later, okay? I have work to do.”
“Okay.” Jack said, and Alex had turned and walked away, hurrying out of the cafe and towards the direction of the library.
Lunch was quiet. Jack sat at a corner table by himself, just like usual, and took out his sketchbook to draw, just like usual. He would sketch people, just glance around and pick the first person his eyes fell on, but this time he drew Alex.
In the first attempt, he penciled out the boy’s profile, trying to capture the peaceable line of his jaw and the way his hair hung down the side of his face, tucked behind his ears. He stopped to analyze it. It wasn’t a bad drawing, but it wasn’t... Alex.
Half an hour and four abandoned doodles of Alex later, he slammed his book shut in a fit of rare frustration. There was something about the guy that he couldn’t quite ensnare, something deep and quiet and real and ragingly beautiful.
Jack was determined to find it.
Keep writing, Abi! We're excited to see the rest. To the impersonator, we do not tolerate that type of behavior. ~Admin
submitted by Abigail S., age 12, Nose in a Book
(December 22, 2016 - 12:21 pm)
(December 22, 2016 - 12:21 pm)
*Goes and buries my face in a pillow for hours* THIS IS SO CUTE!
(December 23, 2016 - 9:58 pm)
I like the story.
(December 24, 2016 - 2:26 pm)
@Owlgirl: FLUFF? YES. VERY YES.
Everybody, I'm really glad that y'all like how this is going! I wasn't able to meet my NaNo goal this November because of school and dance and soccer playoffs, so I'm trying to do it in December as kind of a spinoff. :P I'll post parts as frequently as I am able. Fortunately I'm farther ahead on writing than I have posted, so I should be able to fall into some kind of schedule. This section is a tad short, but the next bit is pretty long, so just wait for it <3
---
The next day, Alex sat next to Jack in first period English. He was doodling on his arm with a black felt-tip pen. Alex didn’t know squat about art supplies, but this particular one looked like high quality, the evenness of line, the pure, unfaded, dark color and the quickness with which it responded.
Jack looked up when he saw Alex sit down. “Hey, Alex!”
“Hey yourself,” Alex said with a smile. “What’re you drawing?”
“Just random stuff.” Jack shrugged and held out his right arm, and Alex leaned over to get a closer look.
It was, to say the least, impressive. Starting at the tip of Jack’s middle finger, a plant grew, intricate branches spread out, twining around his fingers and up his arm. There were leaves on it here and there, all different shapes, some round and heart-like, others with jagged, scalloped edges.
Flowers appeared, too— Mostly small, delicate buds attached to the bases of the leaves or funnel-shaped blossoms like the purple ones outside of Alex’s house, but there was one at the very top, right near Jack’s elbow that was instantly recognizable as a large rose, seemingly halfway through unfurling—wide, expansive petals layered on one another and one another and Alex almost got lost in them.
In the spaces in which the plant didn’t touch, Jack had doodled smaller things, with the limbs of the greenery encircling them like rings. There was a songbird with stripes on its wing, a softshell turtle, a closed book, a rising sun, and a pencil.
His hand unconsciously resting on Jack’s wrist, Alex traced his finger across the drawing, making sure it was real and not some crazy beautiful illusion. He felt Jack stiffen slightly, so he let go.
“Gosh, Jack, that’s freaking amazing.”
His companion’s face quickly spread into a look of immense relief. “You think so? A lot of people think it’s kind of silly to draw and stuff, my dad doesn’t like it when I doodle on my arms, I guess I’ll have to wear long sleeves until it washes off—”`
“Your dad is insane,” Alex said, shaking his head. “You’re crazy talented, Jack— I mean, if this is a careless doodle then I’d love to see what you draw in your sketchbook.”
Jack thought of all those pages filled with nothing but Alex. “Maybe someday.”
Alex smiled back. He could wait for someday.
(December 26, 2016 - 12:49 pm)
Cool, this makes me think of mehndi (or henna as most people know it) that we can get on our hands during the Diwali celebration at my school. I actually forgot to go during lunch and get the mehndi this year, and was really bumed. :/
(December 26, 2016 - 1:39 pm)
This is amazing and I love it! One question though: will it have a plot outside of the romance?
(December 26, 2016 - 7:08 pm)
Yup! Anyway the quote-unquote romance will be a pretty slow development. Gotta add in the tension before the bang, amirite?
I have lotsa stuff planned for these beans... it won't all be sketchbook doodles and library lunches.
(I'm glad you like it by the way ^^)
(December 26, 2016 - 8:32 pm)
English had never been a troublesome class for Alex. Words came easily to him, they fell out of his fingers and his mouth so smoothly it was hard to believe they weren’t being projected straight from his brain and onto the paper.
There were so many ways to say something, and he had so much he wanted to say, so when the teacher, the kind but mostly indifferent Miss Young, announced that they would be beginning a long term project: persuasive essays, he was surprised to see Jack groan and slump over in his seat, hiding his face in his hands.
“What’s the problem?” Alex whispered as the explanations continued, discussing that period’s relatively constraint-free assignment of creating a list of possible topics.
Jack didn’t look at Alex, continuing to stare dejectedly at the desk, and muttered a scarcely audible, “Words are hard.”
Alex frowned slightly, but to Jack’s relief he didn’t respond, instead flipping open his binder and removing a few sheets of lined paper, laying them out one after the other with only a slight overlap on the margins.
Jack didn’t even bother to get out paper, tracing his capped drawing pen down the edge of the desk and back up, over and over.
Alex, of course, was writing like a madman, and had nearly filled up the first side of the first sheet of paper. He was right handed, unlike Jack, and his left arm rested on the space where their two desks met, dark green sweater rolled up to his elbow, exposing the tanned, smooth, skin there, the bend of where his wrist leaned slightly towards Jack. Long, graceful fingers sat perfectly still, in contrast to his other hand which scarcely paused in its constant movement.
Jack was very tempted to start drawing on him.
He waited another minute or so, foot carelessly tapping the floor, and once his knee hit the desk leg, causing the desk to bump upward a bit. Alex didn’t seem to be bothered.
Jack was bored, braindead, and Alex’s arm was so pure and motionless, yet humming with the boy’s limitless energy, a perfect blank canvas, and Jack couldn’t take it.
The cap came off the pen and was placed on top of his pencil case. Cautiously he moved closer to Alex, and drew a tiny circle on his wrist.
Alex glanced at him, smiled encouragingly, and went back to writing.
Jack continued his doodling, not trying to make anything in particular, just lines and patterns and circles, a disconnected melody that he knew would somehow end up working. At one point, he flipped Alex’s hand over and wrote in the center of his palm something his mother used to tell him: “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story.”
He was adding a clock on the back of Alex’s hand when the door to the classroom banged aggressively open, smacking the wall with unnecessary force, and a girl stormed in, blond hair streaming behind her and a beyond annoyed expression on her face.
Jack was so startled by this that his hand slipped, causing the minute hand on the clock to look rather more like a lightning bolt than its intended form. “Crap!”
Even Alex looked up, staring perplexed at the girl as she stormed over to Miss Young and thrust a late pass in her hand.
He turned to Jack and said, “Is this… normal?”
Jack gave him a despairing shrug. “Nope. I have no idea who she is.”
Alex seemed to take the answer in stride, turning his arm over and around to observe the in-progress result of Jack’s efforts, smiling as he read the quote. “Whoa, this is really great, Jack! Liza’d love it if I showed her.”
“Liza?”
“My big sister. She’s an artist too, but does digital stuff, mostly.”
“Oh, cool.”
The blond girl kept kicking the back of her ankle with her other foot as she stood by Miss Young, who was fixated on her computer. “Oh, I see,” the teacher finally said. “You can go sit by Alex.”
Alex glanced at the one free desk in the classroom, directly to his right, then back at Jack, mouthing, “Lucky me.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Alex, I’ll protect you.”
Alex stuck out his tongue at him.
The girl set her books on the desk with a loud thunk, and plopped down into the dark blue plastic chair.
“Bonjour,” she said to Alex in an ill-disguised French accent. “What are we supposed to be doing?” Up close, her demeanor seemed more anxious than haughty, and she offered Alex a nervous smile.
Alex grinned, a wide, optimistic one that fit his face just right. Jack mentally filed it away for future reference. “Composing a list of possible topics for a persuasive essay. J'mapelle Alex Quinn, resident know-it-all. Who are you?”
“Adrianne de Croix,” She said. “I just moved here.”
“I’m new too,” Alex replied, holding up a hand for a high-five. “Etes vous Français?”
“Oui,” Adrianne nodded. She peered around Alex. “Who’s this?”
“This is Jack,” Alex patted him on the head as if he was a puppy in need of positive reinforcement. He leaned over towards Adrianne and mock - whispered: “I don’t think he speaks French.”
“I don’t,” Jack confirmed.
Adrianne laughed. “Tu es drôle.”
“What did she say?” Jack asked.
-----
Quick glossary of the French featured in this chapter:
(According to Google translate. I can't vouch for the accuracy)
Bonjour -- Hello (Hope y'all knew that)
Oui -- Yes
J'mapelle -- My name is
Etes vous Français? -- Are you from France?
Tu es drôle -- You're funny
(December 26, 2016 - 8:38 pm)
You got the French mostly right, though it's spelled Je m'appelle, not j'mappelle, and "Êtes vous français?" translates literally to "are you French?"
(December 27, 2016 - 9:01 am)
So Alex is good with words. And Jack draws. I like that.
Just a few French corrections (don't take anything to heart; it's just grammar. consider it a friendly edit.) I don't speak French, but I'm learning, and I'm pretty good at writing it. (My pronounciation, however, needs work.)
The translation of "My name is..." would be "Je m'apelle."
Also, it would technically be "Êtes-vous française ?"...
-with a circumflex (aka the little hat thingie) over the e
-a hyphen between Êtes and vous. Or you could say Vous êtes. Either would be grammatically correct.
-there is an e at the end of française because Adrianne is a girl
-française would not be capitalized, since in French ethnicity is not capitalized. (ex. americain, americaine)
For future reference, an fyi about vous and tu. I don't think you've misused it; this is jsut some general stuff (you might already know it):
Vous is used for addressing multiple people at once, elderly people, and adults that require respect. Also for strangers, but it depends on the age of the stranger--you wouldn't use vous to a toddler you just met.
Tu is more casual, and is only used for addressing one person.
Once again, I think you used it correctly though--Alex being slightly more formal, and Adrianne, using tu because...well, I think it works.
Nice name--Adrianne--by the way. It's very pretty. Did you know that was Marquis de Lafayette's wife's name?
(December 27, 2016 - 11:05 am)
Ah thanks for the tips! They're very helpful. I know nothing about French, so I really appreciate the assistance.
Also, yes, I did know that Adrianne was the name of Lafayette's wife! That was kind of a coincidence and... kind of not.
(December 27, 2016 - 12:17 pm)
Wow, high fivesies for obsessive Hamilton history nerds!
(December 27, 2016 - 7:03 pm)
After class, Adrianne stuck with Jack and Alex as they exited the room and emerged into the hallway.
“This is a big school,” Adrianne pointed out in a small voice, eyes scanning the many students, erupting from the classrooms like water from a broken dam. She stepped a little closer to Alex and hugged her books to her chest as if she thought she was going to float away and get lost.
“I know,” Alex said sympathetically. “I was terrified in the beginning of the year. What do you have next, Adri? We can help you find the classroom or something.”
“Um,” Adrianne opened a pale blue binder and scanned the first sheet, which was tucked into a plastic sleeve. “Science. With Mr Rion.”
“Oh, I have him too,” Jack said. He gestured left as best as he could with an armful of textbooks. “Down there.”
“He has… how you say… no chill, non?” Adri said, watching him go.
“Yeah,” Jack replied fondly, gazing at Alex as he bumped into a sixth grader and stopped to apologize profusely. “Mr Rion’s is that way, we’d better get going, he doesn’t like it when students are late.”
As they started walking down the hall, Adri asked, “Are you two good friends?”
Jack paused. “Not sure.”
Adri would be good to draw, simpler than Alex, but she was visually interesting as well— Her playful intelligence that danced in her blue eyes, the sharp upturn of her nose, and confident posture disguising the nervousness with which she bit her lip.
“You two seem pretty close.” Even as she spoke, Adri seemed to be drinking the school’s appearance. Her line of sight darted rapidly from the lockers to the too-low silver water fountains to the cream-colored blinds pulled halfway down on the miniature windows that rested on the breast of each door.
“We only really started talking a week or so ago,” Jack admitted, choosing not to mention the long break between their first and second conversations.
“Oh,” Adri said, appearing to be a little puzzled.
Jack raised a non-committal shoulder. It was odd, he thought, that Adri had assumed they were closer than they were. Jack didn’t mind. If there was one person in the world he would want as a best friend, it would be Alex.
“Did you draw that thing on his arm? The one on yours too?”
“Um, yeah.”
“They both are tres bien. I’m impressed.”
Though Jack couldn’t understand the French words, he got the gist from Adri’s slight smile, which he returned gratefully. “Thanks.”
“Hey, isn’t this Mr Rion’s room?” She stopped him, reaching out and poking her toe at the walnut-wood door.
“Oh. Yup, that’s it.”
“I’m the new one, and yet you likely would have walked right past the door if not for me. Mon dieu!”
Jack pretended to look offended. “Are you underestimating my navigation skills?”
“Oui,” Adri said, and positively cracking up, they stumbled into the science room just as the bell rang.
(December 27, 2016 - 10:49 pm)
I love it!
(December 28, 2016 - 10:49 am)
Ayyye everyone thank you so much for your comments and sweet words. They give me life <33 Also, if any of y'all have title suggestions I'd love that? Because I have no ideas. My working title is "The Art of Summer Sundays" but I'm not sure if that really fits.
Next part!
-----
The library was calming to Alex. Any and all libraries, really— As long as he could remember, it had been his definition of home: Books and quiet and warmth. Sarah’s house was a close second, welcoming and cozy, but sometimes he still had a hard time feeling like he truly belonged there, with the floral wallpaper and shiny tile and pale shag rugs.
Here, though, there were no questions, no confusion, just peace.
Alex had just settled himself by a table tucked into the farmost corner of the library and was reading through the descriptive essay he had started the day before (it was about Liza, and he was planning on typing it up and printing it on parchment paper and giving it to her for Chanukah), when he heard the library door swing open and Jack, sketchbook under his arm per usual, and Adri walked in.
He hadn’t really expected them to come, but was glad they had, and waved them over.
Jack slid into the seat next to him and Adri sat across from Jack.
“You got here fast,” Adri observed. “Lunch started maybe fifteen minutes ago.”
“Did you even eat?” Jack asked.
“No,” Alex said shortly.
“Alex, that’s not exactly healthy—” Jack began.
“It’s fine, Jack, I’m fine. I’m used to it,” Alex cut him off, not wanting to have that particular conversation. If the look on Jack’s face was any indicator, he was assuming that Alex didn’t have food or wasn’t able to buy some.
But, in any sense, Alex was used to it. He had experienced a lot of days with less than three meals, by choice or otherwise, and by the time he had the luxury of being able to eat basically whenever he wanted, he found that he didn’t really need lunch.
Besides, libraries beat cafeterias any day.
“Okay, whatever you say,” Jack said, but Alex could hear the traces of worry that remained hanging on the edge of his tone.
Pretending not to notice, Alex slid the legal pad over towards Adri and Jack. “Would you guys mind proofreading this for me? My sister usually edits my stuff, but this is for her, so, you know, that wouldn’t work so well.”
“Certainement,” Adri said. “Do you mind if I write on it?”
Alex slid her a red pen over the tabletop.
Jack winced. “Alex, I’d love to help, but you don’t want me proofing anything, ever. It’s probably best for all concerned if I don’t even touch it.”
“I’m sure that’s not—” Alex started, but Jack opened his sketchbook, the front cover hitting the tabletop with a decisive thump, and that was the end of it.
The three sat in amicable silence for a while, Adri reading Alex’s essay and occasionally marking something on it in red, Jack sketching (per usual), Alex thumbing through a book about the Cold War.
About midway through lunch, the PA speaker crackled to life with a harsh burst of static, causing Adri to drop her pen in surprise. It rolled onto Jack’s book, and he lifted his arm from where it had been shielding the drawing from view to toss it back to her, giving Alex a momentary glimpse of his page.
Passionate, graceful, dark eyes stared back up at him, resting in a high-cheekboned face which transitioned smoothly into the neck, a collarbone arch just peeking out from behind the neckline of a t-shirt.
The drawing was obviously incomplete— The nose was a simple line, mostly flat with an upcurve at the tip, and it lacked a mouth, but still, Alex recognized who the person was supposed to be. Those very features gazed at him dolefully every morning from the full-length mirror Sarah had hung in his room.
Jack was sketching him.
Alex might’ve died right there of shock, but Jack soon moved back into his former position, and the thought was chased away when a voice drawled from the radio: “Adrianne de Croix, please report to the front office.”
Jack and Alex gave her twin horrified expressions, which she just rolled her eyes at, standing up. “I’m not a fauteur de troubles, believe me. They probably just want to clear up some paperwork or something.” She slid the legal pad over to Alex adding: “This is excellente, by the way. Your sister will love it.”
She grinned and exited the library, the door banging shut behind her.
(December 28, 2016 - 6:30 pm)
Scenes in which the characters interact, while still maintaining their individuality, are always appealing scenes to me. I liked this library scene. It was well-described; I could picture it in my head.
And the drawing of Alex--I could see that very clearly as well. Describing Jack's drawings is something you do very well at, so don't ever be afraid to use them. Facial descriptions, I read somewhere, are weirdly popular with readers.
One more thing, I like how you are showing us more of Alex right now, while still including Jack. I'd like to see more of Adri, but I would suggest taking it slow for her. For some reason I feel her character development would work best that way. That way it's not all thrown out in the beginning; even as other stuff is happening in the middle, Adri is a character the reader is still being fed new bits of. That came out weird.....its just a suggestion anywho.*shrug*
I realized I'm commenting with like every new part. Hopefully that's fine by you.
(December 29, 2016 - 12:04 am)