O :: NaNoWriMo Day 1
If you're unfamiliar with NaNoWriMo, visit their website and read on. Basically, it's a program where a bunch of nuts (like yours truly) take on the daunting and seemingly impossible task of writing a 50,000 word novel in just one month (traditionally, November). Since it's counted by words and not worthiness of plot or writing, most of this will simply be a stream of consciousness. I don't even HAVE a plot to speak of. I just started with one small funny thing me and Colin talked about after band once (the opening scene) and went from there. It's disjointed, and it's confusing, and it's boring, but it's fun. But anyway, I want to post at the end of each day so I and everyone out there can see my continued progress. Since I'm only writing to meet my daily goal, my endings may be quite choppy and unexpected, but you're just gonna have to deal with it.
It's so unoriginal, it's not even funny.
It's like my life... with different names.
Well, so far.
There was a bright light. Under the light there was a podium, and under the podium there was a band, and in the band there was a boy. Khadeem stared at his feet as they pushed around a small piece of rubber on the cement ground. His baritone sax was pulling heavy against the back of his neck, his arms ached with its weight, and the sweat rolled down his temples like kids sledding in the snow.
There was a voice. From the bright light above, it said, "Khadeem."
Khadeem looked up into the light, and stood in awe. "God?" he asked.
"Listen to me, Khadeem," its voice boomed as if magnified. The band stood still around him as if frozen in time, feet together, instruments raised to the heavens as if in praise.
"I'm listening, God," answered Khadeem. He waited, ready to receive his prophecy.
The voice paused. "You are out of form," it said at last. "Take two steps to the right."
Khadeem stepith.
And the Lord saw that it was good.
“Hey. Hey, Sally!”
“What is it? What are you doing?” Sally looked over John’s shoulder to see what he was leaning over.
He crouched down further, covering his work from view, and hissed. “Not yet! I’m not done!”
“Well, what is it?” she persisted, her curiosity poorly hidden in her voice.
“It’s my invention!” John replied enthusiastically.
Sally rolled her eyes and went back to her work. The biology teacher pacing in front of the room shot a wary look at the two. She grinned innocently and he turned back to his empty space.
“Hey, John?” she decided to make it sound like they were staying on task.
“Yea?”
“What kind of molecule does this look like?”
“I don’t know.”
Sally looked over at John with a glare. “You didn’t even look at it!”
John hadn’t moved from his position, and he offered no further reply.
Sally let out an annoyed sigh and continued building her toothpick and marshmallow molecules. After several more connections, she heard a sound of sudden accomplishment from John, making her start.
“It’s done!”
Sally turned to him with real excitement. “Great, what is it?” she asked.
John held out his hand with pride to reveal a blob of marshmallow with toothpicks sticking arbitrarily from its body.
Sally moved away instinctively and grimaced. “Ugh, what is it?” she asked again, a little more disgusted than curious now.
“It’s a dog!” John replied happily. He looked up at Sally’s disgusted expression and his grin faded. “Don’t you see it?” he asked nervously.
“Erm, yea,” Sally did her best to nod. “It’s lovely!” She gave John a weak smile. He held her eye in a drawn out disappointment before looking away from her to his dog. He turned back around to his desk, dejected.
“Aw, John, come on,” Sally put her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off dramatically. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine, be that way.”
“Did you know,” Amanda swung her legs back and forth, causing them to thump against the side of the chair as she laid across its arms, looking up to the light fixtures above her, “that there are 150 tiles in this ceiling?”
Sandra looked up to the ceiling. “Really?”
“Yea.”
“How did you-wait no, we’re studying!” Sandra looked back down at her Pre Cal book and started rustling through various pages of notes.
“No we’re not.” Amanda replied carelessly as her arm reached out, hit the table, and her hand danced around the surface until it made contact with her coffee cup.
“I know!” Sandra dropped her notes on her lap and sighed. “But we should be.”
Amanda turned her head slowly to look at Sandra. Sandra looked back with an expression of helpless panic.
“When’s the test again?” Amanda asked calmly.
“Three days!”
“Oh, that long?” Amanda turned her head back to the ceiling and Sandra’s jaw dropped. “We have plenty of time.”
Sandra took a breath and readied herself to reply, but let out a sigh instead and the papers on her lap began to shuffle again. There was a silence and they both noticed for the first time the music in the background.
“So… did you hear about the dance last night?” Amanda started.
“No, tell me about it!” Sandra moved over in her chair as her Pre Cal binder fell to the floor.
Michael jumped at the sound and looked over at the two girls. He shook his head and looked back at the menu.
“Hey, kid?”
“Yea, sorry?” Michael blinked back into the present to see an annoyed college student peering at him under the brim of his Starbucks hat. “Oh, right, I’ll have a Carmel Frapp.”
“Milk?”
“What? Yea, sure.”
“Hot?”
“Yes!”
“Extra whipped cream?”
“Would you just mix the damn coffee?” Michael grumbled as he pulled out his wallet. After getting his coffee, he turned and, giving one last look to the now silent girls in the corner, walked out the door.
After a short drive he was back at school, and within another few minutes he was walking into Mr. Darren’s office.
“Did you bring me coffee?” the director asked, looking up from his computer only long enough to see if Michael was carrying an extra cup in his hand.
Michael sat down in a chair across the desk and raised an eyebrow. “Would I dare go to Starbucks and not bring you coffee?” He put the extra cup on the desk.
Mr. Darren nodded and took the cup. “For your sake, I would hope not.”
A loud crash came out of the band room and Mr. Darren looked up like a lion smelling meat. “What was it?” he yelled out his open door.
There was a long silence from the larger room before a nervous voice answered him. “A cymbal,” it said.
Mr. Darren shook his head and turned his chair back to his glowing laptop screen.
“It’s ok though! I-I put it up!”
“Thank you, Khadeem.”
Michael chuckled as he watched the freshman dance around the golden disks in a panic. Khadeem looked over at the office, then at the cymbal, then back to the office.
“You’re… you’re welcome,” he finally decided on saying in response.
Within the next few minutes, the band room began to increase in sound as people filtered in, and the dull ringing of silence became replaced with excited and anxious pre-game chatter. More people came into Mr. Warren’s office and found solace on his floor and chairs, and Michael stood and walked out, throwing his empty coffee cup in the bin as he left.
Eyes followed the senior until the “Braughman” on the back of his letterman disappeared through the double doors of the band room. Amanda turned back to Sandra, who was barely visible behind her book. She let out an annoyed tisk.
“Sandra!”
Sandra jumped and peered over the edge of her book. “What? She asked defensively.
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Michael Braughman just walked by?”
Sandra turned her eyes to the door, then back to Amanda and shrugged.
Amanda’s eyes widened. “Don’t even act like you don’t care!” she demanded in horror.
Sandra’s eyes went back to her book. “I’m not acting. I really don’t care.”
“I saw him look at you as he walked by.”
The book dropped. “Really?”
Amanda laughed gleefully. “See?” Sandra glared at her and turned away. “You’re so obvious.”
A loud laugh sounded from the back of the room; the two girls turned to look. Uninterested, they turned back to their circle and continued on with their generally irrelevant conversation.
“I still don’t see what’s so funny!” Sally protested as John’s shoulders continued to heave in laughter.
He attempted to answer her, but his words and his laughter fought for the space in his throat, and the words overwhelmingly lost.
Sally punched John’s arm as the laughs continued, and turned to Khadeem, an innocent bystander, and asked him: “Do you know what he’s laughing about?” Khadeem looked behind him, in front of him, and around him in confusion, and once seeing he was the sole visible being Sally could be talking to, he turned back and shook his head unwarily.
“No,” he answered, and he watched Sally turn back to John and pull at his arm before continuing Khadeem went on to his own important task of walking around the room aimlessly. It was a skill, and Khadeem had mastered it.
“Bus 1 Officers,” Mr. Darren said addressed the band from the front of the large and messy room, “go to the bus.”
Michael and 4 other upperclassmen grabbed their instruments and walked out the band room doors, feeling the admiring, envious, or annoyed eyes on their backs as they left. Michael pushed his trumpet haphazardly into the lower compartment of the bus and climbed the steps, walked towards the back and sank into the furthest seat. His letter-jacketed and officer-status friends filed in soon after, filling up the back seats of the bus.
“Is this seat free?” Khadeem turned his eyes from the window to meet with those of a pretty sophomore girl. He blinked several times, realized he was staring, and quickly nodded and coughed casually. “Yea, it’s, um, it’s free.”
The girl smiled and sat down. “Thanks,” she said. She paused for Khadeem to return a thought or word.
Khadeem smiled stupidly.
The girl cleared her throat and looked around. “I, well, I don’t like sitting on the bus alone, you know.”
Khadeem nodded. Not so much because he really did know, but more because it seemed the right thing to do. Maybe if he kept nodding, he thought, he might look like he knew things that she did.
“I usually sit with my boyfriend,”
Khadeem waited for the “but”-
“…but he’s at work tonight.”
“Oh,” Khadeem replied, perhaps too disappointedly. He turned back to the window and the girl turned to talk to the girls behind them.
“Health test?” Amanda asked with a laugh. “Yea, I totally failed it.”
The girl nodded enthusiastically. “It was so hard!”
Sandra, like Khadeem in front of her, took to staring out the window. She didn’t find the test particularly hard at all, in fact she aced it, which meant she had to stay silent for as long as there continued to be conversation about it.
It's so unoriginal, it's not even funny.
It's like my life... with different names.
Well, so far.
There was a bright light. Under the light there was a podium, and under the podium there was a band, and in the band there was a boy. Khadeem stared at his feet as they pushed around a small piece of rubber on the cement ground. His baritone sax was pulling heavy against the back of his neck, his arms ached with its weight, and the sweat rolled down his temples like kids sledding in the snow.
There was a voice. From the bright light above, it said, "Khadeem."
Khadeem looked up into the light, and stood in awe. "God?" he asked.
"Listen to me, Khadeem," its voice boomed as if magnified. The band stood still around him as if frozen in time, feet together, instruments raised to the heavens as if in praise.
"I'm listening, God," answered Khadeem. He waited, ready to receive his prophecy.
The voice paused. "You are out of form," it said at last. "Take two steps to the right."
Khadeem stepith.
And the Lord saw that it was good.
“Hey. Hey, Sally!”
“What is it? What are you doing?” Sally looked over John’s shoulder to see what he was leaning over.
He crouched down further, covering his work from view, and hissed. “Not yet! I’m not done!”
“Well, what is it?” she persisted, her curiosity poorly hidden in her voice.
“It’s my invention!” John replied enthusiastically.
Sally rolled her eyes and went back to her work. The biology teacher pacing in front of the room shot a wary look at the two. She grinned innocently and he turned back to his empty space.
“Hey, John?” she decided to make it sound like they were staying on task.
“Yea?”
“What kind of molecule does this look like?”
“I don’t know.”
Sally looked over at John with a glare. “You didn’t even look at it!”
John hadn’t moved from his position, and he offered no further reply.
Sally let out an annoyed sigh and continued building her toothpick and marshmallow molecules. After several more connections, she heard a sound of sudden accomplishment from John, making her start.
“It’s done!”
Sally turned to him with real excitement. “Great, what is it?” she asked.
John held out his hand with pride to reveal a blob of marshmallow with toothpicks sticking arbitrarily from its body.
Sally moved away instinctively and grimaced. “Ugh, what is it?” she asked again, a little more disgusted than curious now.
“It’s a dog!” John replied happily. He looked up at Sally’s disgusted expression and his grin faded. “Don’t you see it?” he asked nervously.
“Erm, yea,” Sally did her best to nod. “It’s lovely!” She gave John a weak smile. He held her eye in a drawn out disappointment before looking away from her to his dog. He turned back around to his desk, dejected.
“Aw, John, come on,” Sally put her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off dramatically. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine, be that way.”
“Did you know,” Amanda swung her legs back and forth, causing them to thump against the side of the chair as she laid across its arms, looking up to the light fixtures above her, “that there are 150 tiles in this ceiling?”
Sandra looked up to the ceiling. “Really?”
“Yea.”
“How did you-wait no, we’re studying!” Sandra looked back down at her Pre Cal book and started rustling through various pages of notes.
“No we’re not.” Amanda replied carelessly as her arm reached out, hit the table, and her hand danced around the surface until it made contact with her coffee cup.
“I know!” Sandra dropped her notes on her lap and sighed. “But we should be.”
Amanda turned her head slowly to look at Sandra. Sandra looked back with an expression of helpless panic.
“When’s the test again?” Amanda asked calmly.
“Three days!”
“Oh, that long?” Amanda turned her head back to the ceiling and Sandra’s jaw dropped. “We have plenty of time.”
Sandra took a breath and readied herself to reply, but let out a sigh instead and the papers on her lap began to shuffle again. There was a silence and they both noticed for the first time the music in the background.
“So… did you hear about the dance last night?” Amanda started.
“No, tell me about it!” Sandra moved over in her chair as her Pre Cal binder fell to the floor.
Michael jumped at the sound and looked over at the two girls. He shook his head and looked back at the menu.
“Hey, kid?”
“Yea, sorry?” Michael blinked back into the present to see an annoyed college student peering at him under the brim of his Starbucks hat. “Oh, right, I’ll have a Carmel Frapp.”
“Milk?”
“What? Yea, sure.”
“Hot?”
“Yes!”
“Extra whipped cream?”
“Would you just mix the damn coffee?” Michael grumbled as he pulled out his wallet. After getting his coffee, he turned and, giving one last look to the now silent girls in the corner, walked out the door.
After a short drive he was back at school, and within another few minutes he was walking into Mr. Darren’s office.
“Did you bring me coffee?” the director asked, looking up from his computer only long enough to see if Michael was carrying an extra cup in his hand.
Michael sat down in a chair across the desk and raised an eyebrow. “Would I dare go to Starbucks and not bring you coffee?” He put the extra cup on the desk.
Mr. Darren nodded and took the cup. “For your sake, I would hope not.”
A loud crash came out of the band room and Mr. Darren looked up like a lion smelling meat. “What was it?” he yelled out his open door.
There was a long silence from the larger room before a nervous voice answered him. “A cymbal,” it said.
Mr. Darren shook his head and turned his chair back to his glowing laptop screen.
“It’s ok though! I-I put it up!”
“Thank you, Khadeem.”
Michael chuckled as he watched the freshman dance around the golden disks in a panic. Khadeem looked over at the office, then at the cymbal, then back to the office.
“You’re… you’re welcome,” he finally decided on saying in response.
Within the next few minutes, the band room began to increase in sound as people filtered in, and the dull ringing of silence became replaced with excited and anxious pre-game chatter. More people came into Mr. Warren’s office and found solace on his floor and chairs, and Michael stood and walked out, throwing his empty coffee cup in the bin as he left.
Eyes followed the senior until the “Braughman” on the back of his letterman disappeared through the double doors of the band room. Amanda turned back to Sandra, who was barely visible behind her book. She let out an annoyed tisk.
“Sandra!”
Sandra jumped and peered over the edge of her book. “What? She asked defensively.
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Michael Braughman just walked by?”
Sandra turned her eyes to the door, then back to Amanda and shrugged.
Amanda’s eyes widened. “Don’t even act like you don’t care!” she demanded in horror.
Sandra’s eyes went back to her book. “I’m not acting. I really don’t care.”
“I saw him look at you as he walked by.”
The book dropped. “Really?”
Amanda laughed gleefully. “See?” Sandra glared at her and turned away. “You’re so obvious.”
A loud laugh sounded from the back of the room; the two girls turned to look. Uninterested, they turned back to their circle and continued on with their generally irrelevant conversation.
“I still don’t see what’s so funny!” Sally protested as John’s shoulders continued to heave in laughter.
He attempted to answer her, but his words and his laughter fought for the space in his throat, and the words overwhelmingly lost.
Sally punched John’s arm as the laughs continued, and turned to Khadeem, an innocent bystander, and asked him: “Do you know what he’s laughing about?” Khadeem looked behind him, in front of him, and around him in confusion, and once seeing he was the sole visible being Sally could be talking to, he turned back and shook his head unwarily.
“No,” he answered, and he watched Sally turn back to John and pull at his arm before continuing Khadeem went on to his own important task of walking around the room aimlessly. It was a skill, and Khadeem had mastered it.
“Bus 1 Officers,” Mr. Darren said addressed the band from the front of the large and messy room, “go to the bus.”
Michael and 4 other upperclassmen grabbed their instruments and walked out the band room doors, feeling the admiring, envious, or annoyed eyes on their backs as they left. Michael pushed his trumpet haphazardly into the lower compartment of the bus and climbed the steps, walked towards the back and sank into the furthest seat. His letter-jacketed and officer-status friends filed in soon after, filling up the back seats of the bus.
“Is this seat free?” Khadeem turned his eyes from the window to meet with those of a pretty sophomore girl. He blinked several times, realized he was staring, and quickly nodded and coughed casually. “Yea, it’s, um, it’s free.”
The girl smiled and sat down. “Thanks,” she said. She paused for Khadeem to return a thought or word.
Khadeem smiled stupidly.
The girl cleared her throat and looked around. “I, well, I don’t like sitting on the bus alone, you know.”
Khadeem nodded. Not so much because he really did know, but more because it seemed the right thing to do. Maybe if he kept nodding, he thought, he might look like he knew things that she did.
“I usually sit with my boyfriend,”
Khadeem waited for the “but”-
“…but he’s at work tonight.”
“Oh,” Khadeem replied, perhaps too disappointedly. He turned back to the window and the girl turned to talk to the girls behind them.
“Health test?” Amanda asked with a laugh. “Yea, I totally failed it.”
The girl nodded enthusiastically. “It was so hard!”
Sandra, like Khadeem in front of her, took to staring out the window. She didn’t find the test particularly hard at all, in fact she aced it, which meant she had to stay silent for as long as there continued to be conversation about it.