I review in a stream of consciousness manner. I pasted the story into the review window, and made comments as soon as they came to me. . .hope this helps.
Monday
Across the rolling landscape, Starlight City shone in the radiant sun like the finest collection of diamonds. A large, yet relatively clean city, it carried a certain benevolence that took it a step above its more unsavory neighbors. On the outskirts of town, atop some small hills, the modest campus of Starlight Jr. High sprawled like a centipede down into the valley. And through the crack of an open window, a muffled voice could be heard instructing the class within, sounding strong even from a distance.
<great opening paragraph. I can picture the scene. I love the title--day of the week. It's catchy and interesting>
"And that concludes my lecture today," a tall, black man of thirty was saying to the class before him. Slamming shut a large textbook labeled Philosophy Today, he stood up from his chair and folded his wiry arms behind his back in a patient sort of pose. "Questions, anyone?" he spoke in a voice that bled the tightly contained energy of a man with much power. He slowly scanned over the room with an eagle's perception, ready to pick out any students eager to contribute to discussion.
<delete, 'over' let his scan the room, not scan over the room>
Of which there were none.
The class of twenty or so students was unresponsive, to say the least. Tuckered out from a long day of maths and sciences, the kids here had little enthusiasm for the type of learning their teacher wished to bestow upon them. Most disconcerting was the desk in row three, forth from the right. This was where a green-maned lad of fourteen was practically lying on his desk, looking not only like he may start snoozing any moment, but also like he desperately needed it.
<the last sentence above seems like two clauses put together that are redundant. It jumped out as a little weird to me. I'd chop off everything after the word moment.>
Andrew Champion picked with disinterest at a chewed eraser, pulling at the rubbery nub until it threatened to tear off from the rest of his pencil. Looking down at the arrangement on his desk, he let the conversation of the class flow over his head like a stream over so many stones. With his chin in his hand, and his head to the side, he idly looked away from his mangled writing tool over to the clock, wondering when lunchtime was. Food for the mind was something he ill swallowed, and right now, he felt only prepared to handle food for the body.
<love that last sentence.>
SLAM! a long, thin implement came crashing down on the desk, making the boy drop his pencil like it was biting him. Looking up from the empty notepaper on his desk, Andy found a dark and very menacing figure above him, boring into him a sensation not unlike the fear of God. "Mr. Champion, if you're not too bored from my lecture on free-will and its proponents," the teacher started sarcastically, tapping the flat end of his yardstick against his shoulder. "Perhaps you could make use of it and try staying awake in class."
A few students let out some light titters, whether it was because of Andy's humiliation or the rather clever comment made by the teacher, it was unsure. The boy merely let out a long sigh, and propped himself up in a slightly more alert manner, wary not to test the teacher's patience again. Still, his gaze was not exactly level and he was again looking rather tired. He just sat there like a statue, letting the shock of the teacher's sharp directive wash through his system to keep him awake.
Free-will. That's what this class was about. With the blessings of the senior staff, Professor Trent Clark had started a special enrichment program in Starlight Jr. High, concerning the philosophical matters of free-will vs. determinism. Normally given to high school students, this special elective was meant to open up young minds and awaken them to higher levels of thinking.
As such, it flew completely over his head.
<awesome sentence. I laughed as I read it. Nice lead up to it as well.>
Andy breathed heavily into the air, letting his eyes close for the moment. What business did he have tackling the mystique and legacy of modern philosophy? He was only fourteen; the biggest decision-making he made was whether to pick the green or orange gelatin in the school lunch line. (he liked the green gelatin) Such things were better left to the wise men on the northern mountains. (philosophy, not the gelatin picking)
"I want all you to work hard on this one," Mr. Clark was saying to the rest of the class, bringing his attention away from Andy for the moment. "Your assignment for the rest of the week is to think of a way you can exercise your free-will in a way different than everyday life. Then, write a hundred-word summery of your thoughts and feelings leading to your decisive actions. Again, any questions?"
<That professor sounds rather mean. I think he'd assign more than 100 words to write after a week's time of thinking. . .make it a larger assignment.>
And again, the class was silent. Well, save for the frantic scribbling of a young, pigtailed girl in the front row, who had been writing for the last five minutes. Her large, horn-rimmed glasses were nearly falling off her nose as she filled her page with notes, and they did almost fall off as she bolted up in her chair, raising her hand in an excited sort of way. "Ms. Reichardt?" the teacher regarded her, seemingly pleased in her participation.
"What if you're a determinist?" the girl asked, an earnest look upon her face.
The man was unperturbed by this question, taking it in stride. "Well, then, I'm sure there would be a way to approach this assignment from a determinist point of view," Mr. Clark supplied, making a small gesture with his hands.
"But, what if we're just like any other animal or insect, and we do only what we're programmed to do?" she insisted, her wide-eyed stare never lessening in the slightest. "I mean, an ant never rebels against the queen, does it?"
<At this point I started realizing, or guessing, that this book will have a lot of philosophy intertwined into it--at the jr. high level of discussion. This greatly interests me as I like books that tackle ethical problems, philosophy, etc. I read on with interest. . .>
"I'm sure that humans are of a higher mentality than ants," he said patiently, putting his hands on his hips.
"And what if everything is just a bunch of protons and neutrons interacting with each other in a predetermined and unchangeable way...."
A male student practically bolted from his seat. "You're holding up class, Reichardt!" he complained loudly, glaring off to the side.
"Terrible Tarah," another student moaned, rolling his eyes in frustration. At this, about a dozen spitballs and crumpled up paper wads made their way towards the girl, testament to the highly bored and volatile class.
"Hey!" she squeaked, shielding herself from the onslaught of makeshift projectiles she was currently being bombarded with.
"Enough!" The booming voice of Mr. Clark broke through the rowdy behavior like lightning through thorny underbrush. Quick as wildfire, the students ceased their action and slotted back in the seat. The fire in the man’s eyes was burning hotly in the afternoon light pouring from the blinds. It was as if he was some sort of samurai schoolteacher, ready to test his blade on any unsavory student.
<I think you tried a bit too hard on the metaphors and descriptions here. It slows it down. I preferred the wittiness of the main character--not the metaphors of the narrator. The metaphors don't quite fit and the picture is a bit incongruent. If he truly had control of the classroom, the spitballs wouldn't have flown in the first place.>
Letting out a short breath of exasperation, Mr. Clark then proceeded towards the door. "The paper is due Wednesday, first five minutes of class. There will be no turning in assignments late." Opening said door, he then deftly stepped to his left. "You may go."
Like the breaking of a dam, the students poured out of the door en mass. Though Mr. Clark had moved aside, he found he had to flatten himself against the wall to avoid being trampled by the herd of unruly students. Soon, the classroom had been all but cleared out, leaving a lifeless quality in what had once held much energy. Only two people were left: Andy, gathering his books, and the girl Tarah, still trying to pick out spitballs from her hair.
After seeing his class off, Mr. Clark proceeded through the rows of desks until he arrived at the boy's. At first sight of the tall man, Andy shrunk down in his seat like a whacked mole, finding nowhere to hide other than his seat. A moment passed without action, as the two stared at each other like a father and his disappointing son. "Do...you need something from me, Mr. Clark?" the younger male tried, hoping to phrase his question so that it didn't sound too rude.
"Andy, your grades have been slipping," Mr. Clark started without preamble. "This is the second time I've caught you sleeping in here. This class may only be an elective, but it's an important credit all the same."
"I'm...sorry, Mr. Clark." Andy said, rubbing his head in a self-conscious sort of way. "It's just this class is so tough, I can't concentrate."
"Well, you need to learn to concentrate," the teacher said unsympathetically, though not without a certain kindness. "This assignment may very well be your last chance to maintain your C average. Anymore slip ups, and you're looking to repeat Gym next quarter, the class you’d be taking instead of this one."
Andy gulped nervously at this prospect. He had no real desire to take Gym again after his experience last quarter; the wedgie-incident was too fresh in his mind even after all this time.
Mr. Clark paid him no mind, and stepped back from the boy with a short sigh. Facing away, he turned his head to peer at Andy through the corner of his eye. "I meant what I said earlier," he said seriously. "Use your free-will, and you'll decide not only your own grade, but your own fate as well."
Then, he continued off back towards the front of the classroom, where the door still lay ajar after the rush of the kids. Stopping at Tarah's desk, Mr. Clark turned a sad eye towards the gooped-up girl, as she yanked haplessly on a pigtail. He kindly brushed a few spitballs off her head, letting them fall down to the janitor's duty. Then, he snatched up his own bagged lunch and took off for the cafeteria, letting the door swing shut behind him.
<I can't see this teacher helping the girl with the spitballs in her hair. Perhaps I don't know him well enought yet. . .>
As the doorway closed with a slam, Andy continued to sit idly in his desk, his hand once again flipping a pencil between his fingers. The second hand of the standard clock counted away the time he spent in contemplation, mulling over Mr. Clark's words like there was some sort of subtext behind them. Soon, even Tarah had left the room, taking with her a multitude of books that no schoolchild really needed throughout their day. This left the boy all by his lonesome, talking to himself like a hero from an old adventure novel he had picked up a few days ago.
"My own fate..."
<interesing transition. I thought he was hungry, though. Why didn't he rush out. This incongruence might work though. It made me wonder about this kid and drew me into his character. It's not all about food for him, maybe. . .I like it. . .>
*****
The cafeteria was a crowded place, it was true. A steady stream of slightly-hyper school kids were lining up alongside the lunch line, receiving whatever forsaken refuse the cooks had decided to dig up for today. The rest of the students were cluttered at several round tables placed sporadically around the spacious, yet swarming room. With the teachers spaced throughout, it made for a system that barely managed to constrain the students from bouncing off the walls, yet it was workable nonetheless.
"Dude, I've neva' seen anyone get so much ragging from Samurai Trent," a blond boy with hair over one eye said to him, picking up a big, smelly burrito to jam into his toothy maw.
"You're such a bone head, Champion," a silver-haired lad added in, slurping lazily on a soda bought from the machine next to the door. "If you'd just nod every once and awhile, you'd be able to get away with dozing in class."
"Sorry, guys," Andy said, shining an apple on the front of his shirt. "It's just hard to keep up with all this stuff sometimes."
<I don't know any teenagers who have every shined their apples prior to eating them. . .>
"Only for you," Silver Hair said.
Andy sighed wearily, and continued to wipe the apple free of any excess dirt that had accumulated. The silver and blond-haired boys, Justin and Slick respectively, tended to be less than supportive whenever they heard that the third wheel of their group had been performing badly at any given task. With Slick, it was mostly to derive a good laugh at someone else's expense, if the laugh could be found. And as for Justin...well, he was just plain critical sometimes.
<delete "they heard that" from the second sentence above.>
Not the best friends a guy could have, but they did in a pinch.
<this sentence disappointed me, really. I was expecting to find a nice trio friendship--even though they gave each other a hard time, or whatever. To think that the hero considers these two guys pinch-hitters for friends. This one sentence made me think the hero is an egomaniac, and I don't want to think that about him. I've hated heros a lot before I like them, so I am not turned off by it. In fact, my strong reaction just tells me I am hooked into the story. . .I'll read on..>
Trying to get them off the subject, he tried again. "So, what are you guys going to do for your free-will assignment?" he asked somewhat-causally, biting into his Washington Red with a resounding snap.
"What are you talking about, Champion?" Justin muttered, regarding his can of cola with a distracted eye. "Whatever we want."
"Yeh," Slick chimed in, his mouth still half full of burrito stuffing. "This is our chance to pull off all the stuff we've always wanted to do, this time with the whole faculty backin' us up!"
"Just think of it," Justin started, putting his hand to his chin in a devious sort of post. "Sneaking into the girl's locker room..."
"Spray painting the statue of Saint Starlight..." Slick added, leaning forward with a slurmy smile smeared with taco sauce.
"Putting out the tires of Old Windbag Magee..."
"Buying the Little Mermaid animated series at half-price..."
"Stealing the locker key out of the...what?" Justin suddenly snapped back to look at the other, with the oddest look on his face.
The blond haired boy started at bit at the gazes of both Justin and Andy, then scooted away slightly. "Uh, they're for my little sisters?" he tried, making a shrugging motion with his shoulders.
<This humor would work in a movie, where it can happen quick. I'm not sure it works in a book. It's tough to catch.>
Slick was fortunately saved from having to explain this further by a high pitched, slightly chirpy voice. "Uh, Andrew Champion?"
Andy lurched up at the sound of his name, turning to where he had first heard the voice. His face visibly fell when he recognized who it was. Clad in gray overalls, a myopic pigtailed girl was standing just to the side of him, her eyes wide and unassuming. Though her glasses were so thick, one could hardly see her eyes, anyways.
Looking to the both sides of his chair nervously, he looked back towards the girl with the fakest smile one could possibly contour. "Uh, Reichardt, right?" he tried, his lip curling up to show just a little bit too much gum above his teeth.
Tarah nodded briefly, paying his antics no mind. "Professor Clark thought you needed extra help on this assignment," she said enthusiastically, speaking like a chipmunk in a position of authority. "I'm going to be your partner for this free-will project!"
Andy's eyes bugged out slightly as he fought to retain this new information without passing out. "W-what?" he stammered, lurching away from the girl as if she had bubonic plague. "P-Partner?"
She was completely oblivious to this, too. "That's right!" she answered cheerfully, nodding her head once. "We'll be working together on this so we both can do well." Her glasses seemed to fog over, as she got more and more excited. "I've never had a partner before!" she exclaimed, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I have all sort of scientific research we can try to get ahead of the rest, like how bugs can sense timid people and pick those people to bite!"
Andy burbled out something in between a gasp and a gurgle. "R-Really?" he managed to get out, his right eye developing a slight tic.
Tarah cheerfully went on ahead of him. "Well, I guess I'll see you later!" she chirped, mercifully cutting the "conversation" short. With a bounce in her step, she moved on back towards her own table in the lunchroom, becoming just another face in the crowd.
Andy watched her go with a dazed expression, having been hit with way too much at once. Then suddenly, with only a few snickers as forewarning, he felt the added weight of his two friends looming behind him. "Looks like Andrew Champion's got a date with Terrible Tarah!" Slick said with a laugh, throwing an arm around the boy's shoulder.
"Rock on, Champion," Justin mocked, making a thumbs-up motion.
<Okay. You have some story line problems here. The teacher left the room, then the girl left the room. But between that time, and lunch (about 20 minutes) the teacher found the girl, talked to her about partnering with Andy. . .a bit unrealistic. . .>
Andy looked back and forth between his brutal buddies, wondering which one of them could possibly be convinced to give him support. Finding neither to be sufficient, he stared straight down the middle of the lunch table, and softly banged his head against it.
*****
Lunch passed into 3rd Period, 3rd into 4th, and soon it was time to leave Starlight Jr. High for home. A medium-sized Joltswagon pulled up to the carpool around 3:15, rocking slightly with its old, automotive age. It waited patiently among the kids as the correct kid gathered up his backpack and hustled into the vehicle like it was his only salvation. Then, with a small sputter of exhaust, the car was off again, pulling away from the lot and off towards the main road.
Andy watched with relief as the school sank into the distance, falling behind the hills like a sinking city. He then turned around towards the front of the car, where he had a better view of his ever-changing surroundings. The trees made a comforting blanket against the world as they whizzed by, enveloping the car in a sea of brown and green. It was like some deity had heard the boy's call for friendlier skies, and had sought to appease him through the peacefulness of a nature-filled drive.
It had been a long day, to say the least. Justin and Slick had made it their business to tease him about Tarah practically all day, right up to carpool. It made no difference that he had hardly ever spoken to the dorky girl before today; as far as they were concerned, Andy had been dating her since the beginning of time. It boggled his mind how such falsehood managed to infest the minds of the schoolkids, and he only hoped this disease didn't spread itself among the rest of his peers.
Andy arranged himself as comfortably as his safety belt would allow, and sunk into the car seat with a long sigh. As the boy struggled to melt into the treated leather, the driver took a brief look behind in concern. "Something the matter, Andrew?" she asked, turning back towards the windshield.
He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a moan and a snort. "I've had better days, Aunt Mary," he said honestly.
The young lad placed his hands on his stomach and looked up towards the open sunroof. "I'm supposed to come up with something special to do for my Philosophy enrichment class," he explained. "An exercise of free-will, that's what Mr. Clark is saying."
"Free-will?" Mary exclaimed, making a short gesture with her hands before firmly putting them back on the wheel. "How exciting! It sounds like your professor is a real go-getter."
Andy chuckled to himself in almost a resentful sort of way. "It's really not as great as it sounds," he said.
"Oh, but there's nothing too hard about free-will," she insisted, moving the steering wheel slightly towards the left. "It's something you have every day. Mr, Clark is just giving you a chance to express it in ways you haven't thought of before."
The Joltswagon carefully made a stop at the intersection, about four feet from the sign. Mary quickly glanced to the left and right for oncoming traffic, and took a look in the rear-view mirror to check for any cars in back. Once she saw that everything was clear, she quickly dug into the purse on the passenger seat for some unknown object. Coming up with a peppermint, she gathered the object between two fingers, and brought the stick back into first gear again.
They had been driving for about half-a-minute when Andy had started talking again. "It just...kinda hurts my head thinking about it," he murmured, almost to himself. "I mean, I guess I have free-will, but it doesn’t seem to affect anything. I mean, I still go to school everyday and I still worry about stupid things. What's so free about that?"
The woman shook her head in disbelief. "Andrew, there's free-will in every aspect of life," she told him, carefully turning the wheel so that the car rounded the turn. Upon finding a straightaway, she took one hand off the wheel and placed the peppermint on the empty ashtray. "Okay, there's a peppermint," she said, turning back towards the windshield. "What are you going to do?"
"Huh," Andy was a bit flabbergasted at this strange situation. He took a closer look at the peppermint, as if it was going to start sprouting legs and dancing the Macarena. "What do you mean?"
"Do you choose to take the peppermint, or not?" she repeated calmly.
The boy struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. "It's a peppermint," he said, losing interest in this thread of conversation fast. "Of course I'm going to take it."
"Ah, but no one's making you take it," Mary said pointedly, making a small motion with her finger before returning her hand to the wheel. "You've got to do that on your own."
As the woman resumed a tight turn through a loopy street in the subdivision, Andy continued staring straight ahead in confusion. "I don't get it."
"Maybe you're feeling sick that day," she started up, keeping her eyes carefully on the road. "Maybe you distrust it on grounds of it being so close to an ashtray. There are many reasons why you would choose not to take the peppermint as there are why you should. Reasons only you can act on."
The car was rolling up to an intersection, a crossover between Lolo Drive and Kirby Parkway. After coming to a stop, Mary made the turn onto Kirby, maneuvering the vehicle carefully past the small pothole that the city hadn't patched up. "Andrew, life's no different than you and the peppermint," she continued, slowing the car down to around five mph. "The stakes may be higher, but it's all a simple decision, once you put your mind to it."
Andy's face knotted up in confusion, his eyebrows twisting into an odd configuration. "If you say so," he assented, shrugging off his doubts with a flex of his shoulder.
"I do say so!" Aunt Mary chuckled jovially as she turned the Joltswagon into their driveway. "I do!"
The peppermint sat abandoned on the ashtray.
-
---
Overall impressions: Great start. I want to read more and I will. That's the key to the first chapter, I think. I'm hooked into Andrew to find out more about him and am anxious to see what he does with this assignment. I like your style. As I mentioned in one spot, things feel more natural when Andrew is thinking or speaking than when the narrator or someone else is. The overall plot idea is nice. They must tackle this assignment and it explodes into something much bigger.
I will look to read further chapters and give more feedback. |
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