I finally shared an excerpt from my on-going Major Work with my new Creative Writing class. There are some returning customers, but there are also a lot of new faces. No matter how many times I share my ideas in meetings, my lessons in front of students, or even songs in front of friends, it is always nerve-wracking to share my writing with a new set of ears. This post is an effort to introduce these new readers to the characters I've been living with and working on for a year.
As always, my apologies for it being totally out of context. After dusk had lingered in the junctures of tree limbs, and after the contents of the crock pot were ladled into matching bowls with oversized spoons, and after Carson’s parents had nodded smiling through Anna Marie’s updates with vicarious pride, the two teens collapsed onto Carson’s plush bed, sinking in with a collective groan of full bellies. The darkness that had settled outside belied the early hour on the clock. It would take an inappropriate number of sitcom episodes to wait out the hours before a suitable bedtime. “So,” Anna Marie stretched her long limbs to the corners of the bed, disregarding Carson’s body underneath hers, “what’s your cabinet up to tonight?” Anna Marie had always found clever ways to refer to Carson’s posse of boys. In elementary school, they had been a boy band. In middle school, when everything is sexual but no one is having sex, they were a harem. In early high school, the muppets, once they were old enough to embrace rather than be embarrassed by such a childish thing. Now, in the fray of constant studying for AP Government, they were her cabinet. Though, in reality, if Carson were to compile a group of trusted advisers, many of those fellas would not make the cut. “Something sufficiently asinine, I’m sure. Want to hang?” “Sure. Might as well make the most of my freedom while I’m out on furlough.” A few pecked out text messages revealed that everyone was at Parker’s house. His over-worked-nurse single mother and away-at-college older sister meant he had a basement to himself and the leniency to enjoy it. Every other weekend, his mom would work the 6pm to 6am shift, so, every other weekend, the gang convened at Parker’s for Team Fortress tournaments, Risk tournaments, beer pong tournaments, bong rip tournaments, tournament-creating tournaments...they were a competitive bunch. Carson traded her Chuck Taylors for lace-up boots and raided the hall closet to layer her and Anna Marie in sweaters, scarves, and hats in preparation for the half-mile trek to Parker’s. She also secured the records for David in between her t-shirt and zip up hoodie layers, a little bulky but barely noticeable after she finished piling on clothes.They’d decided to walk even though her dad insisted she could drive, some delusion he held regarding how his own childhood in New England meant that she somehow inherited an innate ability to drive in inclement weather despite only fleeting opportunities to practice. If Anna Marie’s wide eyes weren’t enough to convince her, then her mother’s instantaneous nail-biting was enough to seal the deal. They hollered farewells over their shoulders and exited the house with her dad’s protestations following after them. Something about how this is actually the safest time to drive because all the idiot bozos would be scared off by a couple flurries that would be put to shame by a moderate case of dandruff. Those flurries had already accumulated a few inches, requiring high knees and sure steps to navigate around backyards and sidewalks to reach the walking path that connected the backend of most of the neighborhoods that sat between the highway at the parkway. They had an easier time once they reached the path, as the trees had shielded it from some of the snow. “I guess you better get used to this if you’re going to live in Philadelphia,” Carson mused, sticking out her tongue to catch a snowflake. “That’s still a big ‘if’, and I don’t think it’s any worse than here,” Anna Marie kicked at the powdery snow, causing a cloud that settled like a snow-globe, “Is it?” “How should I know?” “Because you know all the things.” “Hardly,” Carson’s voice adopted a tone more dour than she had intended. “Whoa, what’s up?” “Knowing facts and understanding things are totally different.” “Deep, bro. Deep.” Carson chuckled and shoulder-nudged her friend, “No, really. I’m starting to think that I don’t actually know shit.” “Carson, my dear,” Anna Marie pulled her hat off and held it to her chest in a flourish, “I do believe that is the smartest thing you’ve ever said.” Carson stooped to grab a handful of snow and tousled it into Anna Marie’s tight braids, jogging down the path to escape retaliation. A snowball to the back and a perilous slide on black ice brought a quick truce, and the pair continued their walk arm-in-arm. “So, have you processed?” Anna Marie asked a humming Carson. “Huh?” “Your end-of-night weirdness you were talking about earlier.” “Oh yeah. Um, not really.” “Want a processing pal?” “No, but thanks. It’s just too weird, and I’m probably making it up anyway. Mountains and molehills and all that.” “Well, just don’t ignore it. You are not typically a mountain-builder, sweets.” They took the right fork as the path split, and stomped through meager shrubs to emerge in a blanketed backyard. As they approached a backdoor tucked under a deck, they could hear the faint thump of music pierced with occasional roars of raucous laughter and what could equally be believed as derision or praise. Knowing the company, Carson figured it was probably a little bit of both.
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AuthorMs. Jopling teaches English at Broadway High School, eats an unseemly amount of cheese, and laughs as often as possible. Archives
November 2017
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