# Chapter One: WARNING (Language).



## singphantom7 (Aug 25, 2013)

I have yet to post any of my work, so I'm excited! Here's the opening to my YA novel...something I haven't pulled out in a while since starting school again to finish my bachelor's. Critique/comments/opinions welcome and much appreciated  
*CHAPTER ONE*
*WARNING*​*CADENCE*

It’s a spontaneous decision: we do the dirty work in the boy’s bathroom. Well, more like I do the dirty work for Abby. I am hands down the best, _best _friend in the world. Someday when we grow old, sitting on a porch swing bitching about slippery dentures and past dead husbands, we will look back on this day with quiet reverence. Abby will still feel like she hasn’t managed to repay me.   

We cut study hall, sneaking to the basement level bathrooms at the back of the building, just past the dungeon-like art room, mere feet away from the janitor’s closet.  Abby’s wearing sunglasses in the dim halls. I have the gray hood of my sweatshirt pulled up over my mess of hair. We probably make a hilarious sight, nervously jog-walking the empty halls like a couple of robbers after a heist. It might be funny, if I didn’t know about the tears and red-rimmed eyes behind Abby’s glasses. 

We stake out the boy’s room, which is usually deserted territory. Any guy that would venture here usually opts to travel just a little further to the exit door that leads to a little wedge of cement terrace outside, a well-hidden gem between the building’s decrepit brick walls. The space houses the dumpster used by the lunch ladies and is completely deserted during the school day. It’s a popular smoker’s haven, and a snotty little boys’ club from what I hear from Abby, who went out there once on a make-out session with senior Andrew Davidson when she was a freshman. The guys that need a smoke break would just as soon use the facilities in the decaying bushes, the reek of urine punctuating the already odorous atmosphere of pot an drotten corn-dog batter. So romantic.
We wouldn’t dare try this in the girl’s room across the hall. Wouldn’t dare try it in any girl’s room. There’s almost always some wandering female with a hall pass in any bathroom. Sometimes a group of them—vicious she-sharks just waiting for a story like this to break their school-day tedium.    

I begged her to wait until after school, but we needed total privacy, which we couldn’t get in either of our homes. What, with her young brothers tackling each other all over the place in preparation for football season and my parents tackling each other with their verbal assaults. Plus, she tells me, she’d go crazy if she had to sit through one more class wondering. Not knowing, she says, is the worst part.  

I am locked in the big stall with Abby, and I’ve reluctantly taken on the job of pee-stick holder. That’s me—holding Abby’s pregnancy tes tbetween her legs while she sits on the toilette so she can pee on it. The pee-stickholder. I’m sure that’s probably not the technical term, but I’ve never had to deal with this sort of thing before (praise God Almighty hallelujah ).
            Abby is sitting there, squatting on porcelain with her sweaty palms nervously gripping tissue paper. I’m practically underneath her, doing my best not to allow my jeans to touch the dirty gray tiles, desperately trying to avoid a full-frontal of my closest friend. At the ame time, I want the aim to be true. There’s only one pee-stick left since she dropped the first in the toilette bowl. 
“If this isn’t the definition of true besties,” I say. “Then I don’t know what is.” 

“Cadence…” She squeezes her eyes shut as she drags out the last part of my name in a hissing plea. “Don’t distract me.”

“Sorry. I’ll let you do your business.” 

“I’m trying.” 

“You think this would scare the piss out of you.” I look at her wide, red-rimmed eyes and grin. 

“Not now,” she laughs. Then sobs. It’s a laugh-sob. “Don’t make me laugh now. I don’t want to pee on you.” 

“That goes for both of us. What about a cup?” 

“I don’t have anything…unless you want to use your thermos?”

“Are you kidding? I still have coffee in there. It’s nine in the morning. Shouldn’t Cocky Jock be doing this with you?” 

“Please. You’re a better friend than he is. Damn it. I think I used it all on the first one.”

“You have to take a breath. Calm down.”

“I can’t believe any of this. I made it to senior year without having to go through this shit.”

“You said you guys used something?” I assure her.

“We did. But I’ve never been this late before. Thank you, Cadence, by the way.” She looks me in the eye. Despite being half-naked before me, vulnerable and exposed, Abby manages this quiet dignity. 

“Well…you’ve been there for me, you know. Now you get to be the screw up.” She laughs, barely. We both know I’m more familiar with this empty bathroom and this disgusting toilette bowl (and all toilet bowls) than any person should be. But I’ve sworn to myself, and to the social worker I got to speak to on a tidy budget—that I’m through with all that.

And now this. I can’t believe her predicament. Our predicament. 

“Yikes!” I say. “A little warning next time.”  The stick is thoroughly soaked and I cap it with the clear lid and hand it to her, silently praying. I give her a moment alone and step out to wash my hands about eight times. I look in the mirror and try not to think the worst. What would happen to Abby if that test reads positive? But if I’m honest with myself what I’m really thinking is: what would happen to _me_? 

The toilette flushes and Abby appears behind me. We meet eyes through the mirror. “Three minutes,” she states,placing the test very carefully on top of the paper towel dispenser. Neither of us can see that little white window. “I can’t watch,” she tells me. 

How can she not look? I can’t take this suspense. 
I watch my friend move stiffly to the sink. She washes, splashes water on her face with shaking hands. Her skirt is rumpled. Her purple-streaked blond hair lays wet against her eyes. This is my best friend, gorgeous, fearless, intelligent Abby—reduced to a quivering mess.Where was her recklessness? Where was her eat-shit-and-die attitude I only wished I could possess?

“So. What about this thing going on tonight?What about Alex?” She asks.

“What about him?”

“What will you do? And where will you two do it?”

My eyes roll so far they hurt. “I’m not really in the mood to talk about possible sex prospects right now, Abbs.”

“I need a distraction. I need to talk about something that’s not me.”

“Why are you still with him?” I return.  She blinks, surprised. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand it. What is Cocky Jock’s appeal?” I wasn’t trying to be rude with the nickname. Abby was the one who made it up. Randy was his real name,but he forced people to call him Rand. A college freshman majoring in Physical Education who looked a teensy bit like the 80’s version of John Cusack if you looked at him with your head tilted. I guess that in itself is a splendid quality. Maybe he played a stereo at her window or something. But I’m not sure there’s much else between them. 

“I think it would be an understatement to say that Rand and I are on the downswing. Maybe I need to move on. Keep things light, right?” She takes a peek at the paper towels, her eyes pooling again. 

“I might not even go out this weekend,”I say too loudly. I have to reel her in before the next meltdown. “I should stay in. I need to work on my assignment.”

The Play. In the stage that is my mind,I am a future New York resident—NYU resident, to be precise. I pack one suitcase and leave my hysterically sobbing mother in the street. My father, getting so emotional that his Irish accent sneaks in, curses the day his one and only child leaves him alone to handle said psychotic mother. I board a train (because to this day I’m convinced that my fear of flight alone would kill me if I ever went airborne) with scripts in hand. While I’m hard at work n my degree in dramatic literature and playwriting, I’m submitting plays left and right, proudly papering my walls with the rejections that signify my relentless intent, drowning my sorrows in coffee shops, and gaining the life experiences that will help my writing. 
Possibly, one of those life experiences might be love. 

Maybe even some sex.  Which, I am constantly hearing in vivid detail from Abby, can be a rather pleasant thing. Now I’m not so sure. 
“Don’t give me that ‘too-cool-for-school-bohemian-hermit-crab’excuse. Alex could probably give you enough inspiration for a scene or two.” 

“Not too sure about that,” I smirk.“This whole situation you have going on might just be after-school-special enough to keep me celibate for the next four or five years.”

Abby’s phone alarm cuts through my words. 

“Time’s up.” She reaches for the test. Closes her eyes. Then she shoves it in my face. “I can’t do this! Tell me what it says. Please?”

For some reason, asking this of me is even more difficult than kneeling over the toilette and catching her urine stream. I take the test. Look down. 

“One line.” I say. “I forget what that means! What does one line mean?” 

Abby’s green eyes bug out of her head.She backs into the stall. Slams it shut behind her.

“Abby!” I shriek. “What does one line mean?”
“It’s negative!” She shouts. “And you won’t believe this—I need a tampon. I need a tampon!”  We are both whooping and cheering. I don’t even care that if we’d waited five minutes, I wouldn’t have had to deal with pee.  I’m dancing around, my image bobbing up and down in the smudged mirror. I grab a tampon from my bag and wave it in the air. 

“I have one!” I laugh. It’s a laugh of joy and gratitude and relief. My friend is safe. My friend is responsible. We are alright.  “I HAVE A TAMPON!” 
It’s at this moment, as I’m shaking my ass back and forth, waving the tampon like a raver with a glow stick—it’s a tthis moment I notice another figure in the mirror. Felix Archer is standing there, a pencil behind each ear, charcoal dust all over his white t-shirt. He’s watching in the doorway, open-mouthed and completely motionless. 

I freeze, take a moment to adjust my purple plastic frames which have become jostled in the dance party. 
“Cadence?” Abby asks. “Holy shit. I’m seriously considering becoming a raging lesbian. Cadence, you there?”  Abby’s hand appears. I jump to her, depositing the necessary product.  I pop up, glare at Felix. I motion with my hands. 

I mouth “Go” and then I put my hands on him and apply physical force. He moves without resistance.

“My bad,” he mouths back. The door closes on him just as he starts to burst out in quiet laughter.

“What was that?” Abby asks, stepping ou tof the stall. Her skirt is perfect, short and straight. She goes to the sink again.

“Just one of the guys from the art room that doesn’t actually get high.”

“Oh. Shocker.” Abby turns to me, all smiles.“I think I’ll cut the rest of the day,” she says. 

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m going to go dump Rand.”

“Smart girl.”

“Don’t get preachy.”

             We exit the bathroom just as students start to spill out of classrooms. Abby squeezes my hand in and bounds away to the attendance office. She’ll regale Mr. Winters with horrific details of severe cramping and heavy flow. He’ll give her a slip to go home without a single question, just to avoid the conversation.


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## singphantom7 (Aug 25, 2013)

Ah. Well. Honestly I'm having loads of trouble with formatting on The Writing Forums. Sorry about that! I'm working on it. If you manage to get through the slippery formatting issues and actually read the excerpt, I applaud you and greatly appreciate any feedback/advice on formatting


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## bazz cargo (Aug 25, 2013)

> I’m submitting plays left and write,


Bad pun?

Not my usual fare. No guns, car chases or explosions. 

I liked it. Now I want to know if you are going to slip a few jokes in?


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## BobtailCon (Aug 25, 2013)

I feel like a woman....


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## singphantom7 (Aug 25, 2013)

It's more of a real-life drama than a comedy, Bazz. Thanks though. How so, bobtail? uhh...thanks for reading? Any honest feedback thoroughly welcome.


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## BobtailCon (Aug 25, 2013)

I'm not used to reading these types of books... I was expecting something like what Bazz said. Nevertheless, although it isn't my type and made me feel very feminine (lol). It is a good story for those who like the drama-type books.


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## singphantom7 (Aug 25, 2013)

ah ha. ok, thanks for the read and response


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## D.Hawkins (Aug 25, 2013)

I really, really enjoyed this! Formatting seemed fine, btw. I hope you post more. I got pretty attached to the characters rather quickly- even Felix. Thanks for sharing!


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## bazz cargo (Aug 26, 2013)

> It's more of a real-life drama than a comedy,


This is just my thoughts, they can be ignored or pondered on. Whatever you decide is good for the story is what counts.

People, especially younger ones, deal with high pressure situations with humour. Usually of the most blackest kind. I wasn't trying to be funny when I mentioned jokes.

Good luck.
Bazz


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## qwertyman (Aug 26, 2013)

Exceptional work. I can't fault it. Dialogue, pacing, character, setting all good. If the rest is to this standard, I have no doubt you will be published. Sorry, I have no advice to offer, other than...more of the same.

I should add I would never read anything in this genre, my comments are on your writing ability. Those who consistently read YA would be better judges on content.


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## summergenevieve (Aug 27, 2013)

I really enjoyed it. The plot grabs your attention and with the taboo subjects you're hooked. Dialogue is easy to follow with a good pace, creating very believable characters that will appeal to most. I hope you write more.


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## singphantom7 (Aug 27, 2013)

Thanks a bunch, all of you. The support here is amazing and encouraging for my writing! I shall have to post more


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## OurJud (Aug 27, 2013)

Just wanted to say I'm another who is a long way past the YA market, but from a technical standpoint this was very good indeed. As others have said the dialogue was nice and natural - even giving me a few big grins with the whole peeing scene. I actually laughed out loud when I read this line:

_“I  have one!” I laugh. It’s a laugh of joy and gratitude and relief. My  friend is safe. My friend is responsible. We are alright.  “I HAVE A  TAMPON!” It’s at this moment, as I’m shaking my ass back and forth, waving the tampon like a raver with a glow stick_...

Good, well-written stuff.


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## ejrosetta (Aug 28, 2013)

I loved this beginning. In the firsttwo paragraphs, you introduced about four questions the reader wantedto know the answer to. Your protagonists voice is excellent, clearand honest. I love how she worries about herself in the mirror afterher friend took the test. Your descriptions of the environment arevivid and detailed, down to the “clear” cap on the pregnancytest. There is no way a reader could be anywhere else in their mindother than there with the two girls in that bathroom. 


I mean the whole subject is crude andfull of bodily fluids – you definitely cut off half your readingpotential as boys/men would be slamming the book shut after the firstpage, but I think you maybe did that on purpose. I like it. It's veryclearly aimed at a specific group, and I think that group would enjoyit all the more for it. 




I'd give it a 7/10 and I'd definitelyread more. I'll be keeping an eye on your profile, thanks forposting.


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## OurJud (Aug 28, 2013)

ejrosetta, is your spacebar not working properly? Your post contains multiple instances of exactly the same sort of typos you've pointed out to singphantom


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## ejrosetta (Aug 28, 2013)

no, how weird! I wrote it in Word and then copied/pasted. That must have been the problem with you too... obviously some glitch as it was find in my word doc. Ignore my typo bits then!!


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## huntsman (Aug 30, 2013)

*Hello.....*

After reading your adult(is it really?) story....I feel depressed....need something more creative....not only two teens conversation repeatedly on a same topic....that cocky jack....whatever keep writing


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## theatregeeksu (Oct 31, 2013)

I really enjoyed it. You really grasped the language of high school girls, not to mention your ability to convey their emotions well. I don't think it really needed "jokes," per se.

- - - Updated - - -

I really enjoyed it. You really grasped the language of high school girls, not to mention your ability to convey their emotions well. I don't think it really needed "jokes," per se.


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## lunardeitiesx (Nov 13, 2013)

I loved this. I loved it so much. First off, I love the suspense and wonder in the first few paragraphs. Using the terms "dirty work" and "my mess of hair" made me assume that this was going to be about drugs, like they were going to go snort coke in the bathroom stalls, something like that. It drew me in and the whole plot totally changed directions, and I look for that in a book. Surprises. When you realize Cadence is about to figure out if her best-friend is pregnant or not, you're wondering where this story is going to go. Towards teen parenthood? Abortion? Adoption? Will there be fights, drugs, un-involved teenage dads? Will she not be pregnant? Will it all be okay? There were a lot of questions I asked. Awesome. 

Also, it's realistic. I just left High School, and this is more relatable than some of the YA books on the market. I've seen pregnancy tests thrown on the cold, tile floor of the girls bathrooms more times than you'd think. Brilliant. I'm really excited to see where Felix goes, if he's going to be Cadence or Abby's love interest, or both, or maybe neither of them. His introduction made me laugh, and so did "I have one! I HAVE A TAMPON!". Good job. ♡


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## stew1426 (Dec 10, 2013)

The dialogue feels very natural. Often, it's very obvious when a teenage character is written by someone who is no longer a teenager. I'm assuming you're not a teenage. Apologies if I'm wrong. Cadence's voice is also very strong. She's a humorous, snarky narrator that seems capable of carrying an entire book.


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## Breila (Dec 10, 2013)

Putting my YA librarian hat on for a moment, I would definitely read this if it was pitched to me and if the rest of the book is this well written, I would put it in for purchasing. The dialog is very natural and you described the setting so well that I could imagine it, which is actually kind of rare for me because I am a very verbal rather than visual person.

Keep going!


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