June 9, 2008 | Book One, Book Stuff, DA Series, Draven Atreides
From now until the April 17, 2009 release date of A Royale Pain: A Draven Atreides, Teenage FBI novel , I will post the unedited version of this book. Every month will be a different chapter, but since the chapters are so long–and unedited–I will post a few pages every week. Keep in mind that what you’ll be reading is the first draft of Book One, pre-editor and pre-spell check. It’s extremely raw, so there will be spelling errors. Comments and opinions are appreciated and may be taken into consideration during the current revision process. If you would like to order this book at a discount, be sure to get on the DA Book One Pre-Order Notification List at the end of this post.
I laugh aloud as I refold the note and stuff it in my back pocket. Poe Danziger’s notes read like a trailer for an action-packed movie. And having known the wild, outrageous girl for only a year, I wonder what kind of mischief my friend has managed to scrounge up.
# Lunch rolls around at eleven fifty-five and I wait for my friends at one of the few tables in the break room. CSA is located in what used to be an office building on the corner of Seventh Avenue and McDowell Road. The charter school doesn’t have much money to spend on decorating and this is one of many rooms that got the short of end that stick. The room houses stark cement floors, a few round tables, two vending machines, a refrigerator, and two microwaves. The kids either bring a sack lunch, a roll of coins for the vending machines, hit the Circle K on the corner, or make the run down to my favorite place, CoolBeans Café on Third Avenue. Most of the kids eat at the picnic tables placed around the grounds, but me and my friends prefer to eat inside. If we can grab a table, that is. Today happens to be our lucky day.
“So, what’s got Poe acting like she’s drunk ten shots of espresso?” asks a teasing voice followed by a one-armed hug.
I look up into the kohl-lined chocolate brown eyes of Enrique “Ricky” Valenzuela-Casiano, and grin as he gracefully throws himself into the chair on my left.
“I dunno. Whatever it is, she said she was going to explain it all during lunch. It’d better be good. I could use a fun weekend,” I say, pulling out my sandwich.
“Rough morning?” he asks, tossing his messenger bag on the ground.
“More like a heinous hour and fifteen minutes with the lab partner from Hell,” I say with a shudder.
“Ah, yes. Martin Hemschlong. Been there, done that, saved by a few sprinkles of Holy Water,” quips Ricky.
I laugh around a mouthful of food.
“With a name like that you have to wonder if he’s got—”
“Don’t go there, chico,” Poe interrupts, barreling through the doorway and making a beeline towards me.
“An inferiority complex,” he finishes with an innocent look on his face.
He gets up and saunters over to the refrigerator, opening it and coming back to the table with an insulated lunch bag. Poe comes to an abrupt halt at the table, dropping her backpack in the chair on my right.
“Dray, do you have a rocket?” she asks huffily.
“A rocket? For what?” Ricky asks in confusion.
“No, I only have a blanket. Is that okay?” I want to know, setting down my sandwich to unzip my backpack.
“Blanket? You’ve got a down vest on,” Ricky interjects, unzipping the bag and taking out the contents.
“Yeah. Fine. Whatever. I’ll take it,” Poe says in irritation, snatching the wrapped feminine product from my hand. “Mr. Herald pissed me off so bad I got my period.”
In a flurry of long brown wavy hair, waist-length scarf, and heavily mascaraed brown eyes shooting angry sparks at the neighboring table, the whirlwind known as Poe races out of the room.
“O-kay,” Ricky blows out a breath and runs a hand over silky black curls kept long on top, and short on the sides and back. “I’ve known you for a year and Poe for, like, ever, and it still amazes me that I need a dictionary of slang to understand what you guys are talking about.”
“Girl Code. She wasn’t born talking in code?” I joke.
“Cussing definitely, but not talking in tongues. I may be full-blood Boriqua, but chiquita, I know my English. English English, not this Girl Talk stuff,” Ricky scoffs with a hand flap.
I chuckle. “It’s Code, Ricky. Girl Code”.
“Uh-huh. Whatever.”
I grin, taking another bite of my sandwich and watch as Ricky places a paper napkin in his lap. The better to keep his slacks clean, I’m sure. Ricky always looks like he stepped off the cover of GQ magazine in his perfectly creased slacks, shiny shoes and button-down shirts. The general public would think the dress code here is black after getting a look at these kids–spiked hair dyed in a rainbow of colors and facial piercings are optional, of course–but Ricky is always looking towards the future. His future as a much sought after movie star, that is. He hopes to be discovered behind the register at his part time job at Saks. Or here at the school. I think he’ll make a wonderful fashion designer. He’s got a great eye for color.
“Lookin’ snazzy today. Audition?” I ask.
“Nah. Gotta work afterwards, but you never know who might come sniffing around,” Ricky says optimistically. “I’ve been hearing rumors that some director needs extras for a movie being made down in Tucson. He’s been going around to some of the high schools and he might come here. I think it’d be cool, but I’m choosy, y’know? I don’t want to work with some two-bit hack.”
“Yes, we know. If it’s not Quentin Tarantino, it’d better be indie,” Poe throws in moments later, taking her seat at the table and unwrapping the sandwich Ricky’s mother made.
I frown. “Wait, I thought it was Stanley Kubrick?”
“Hold on, maybe it’s Steven Spielberg.”
“No, it’s Francis Ford Coppola.”
“What about that Gianni guy?”
“He’s a fashion designer. And dead.”
“Right. I knew that. I was actually thinking of Robert.”
“Redford? How could you get him mixed up with a dead fash—”
“IT’S MARTIN,” Ricky yells, slamming his hand on the table.
“We know. We just like seeing you get your Calvins in a crunch,” Poe says with a cheeky smile and a wink. “Do you think we’d ever forget that your favorite director of all time is Martin Scorcese? Puh-leeze, we hear it on a daily basis,” she adds with a dramatic eye roll.
Ricky mumbles something in Puerto Rican and throws a ball of Saran Wrap at Poe. I laugh and scoot back to avoid being hit in the crossfire. Watching the banter between my closest friends, my laughter fades to a smile as I remember my first encounter with the lifelong friends.
REMINDER:
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Technorati Tags: A Royale Pain, A Draven Atreides, Teenage FBI novel, Circle K, GQ, Tucson, Quentin Tarantino, Stanley Kubrick, Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorcese, Saran Wrap
just a girl says:
Oh wow, Celise, this is great! ♥ the Girl Code
v. clever! look forward to reading more about these characters.
x
JAG
Celise says:
JAG - glad you’re liking the story far.
just a girl says:
Although…may I just say the whole “eyes shooting angry sparks” is a little too cliche. And is “me and my friends” bad grammar or intentional (as in the voice)?
A question - what’s a messenger bag?
Also, I’ve just noticed (call me slow) that you write in the present tense. I just wrote a short fiction piece for my creative writing class in the present tense, and I couldn’t figure out why (I’m used to reading stories set in the immediate past, I think, so it felt/sounded a bit odd to begin with), it just felt right when I starting writing it. Ha ha, maybe reading your work has influenced me.
Is tense any kind of big deal in your writing?
x
JAG
Celise says:
JAG - I thing the “me and my friends” was actually just bad grammar. A messenger bag is a like a bookbag. A lot of the kids here in the U.S. use them to carry their books instead of backpacks. Do an internet search and you’ll see what I mean.
As for using present tense, it’s not a big deal in my writing. My first book was first person, past tense and the second was third person, past tense. I notice that when I write, I sometimes have a habit of “talking to the reader”. Like that show Malcolm in the Middle when the main character would actually talk to the camera. I would make it seem like my character was talking to the audience and my editor would call me on it.
I wanted this series to be in first person because I wanted readers to see inside Draven’s head, to see her humor and what this unusual job is like from her point of view. I think tense depends on the type of story you’re writing and how best to convey that story.