Young Writers Society

Chapter Two
Lane

After a long mental war with myself I raced to the door, watching Jordan leave with an inferno's fire. Okay, okay, I admit it - I felt pretty bad. She was right, I guess. In her own stupid way. But she didn’t have to rub it in…couldn’t she just be happy for me? I was proud of everything I’d achieved; I’d gotten popularity, the halfback position on the football team, and (yes) the attention of plenty of girls. I was confident. Since when was that such a bad thing?

Jordan disappeared, running like the wind as usual. It was incredible that the rubber soles of her shoes hadn’t been completely worn away. My friends Nick and Darrin always joked about her appearance; she wasn’t the prettiest, and the fact that she dressed like a boy half the time didn‘t help. But they’d never seen her run like that.


Speak of the devil, Darrin grabbed my shoulder. “Hey, man! What happened to your nose?”

“Uh, ran into a door.”

“Right.” He didn’t believe it for a second. “Jordan hit you?”

“Maybe.”

“Well you’d better get it all cleaned up soon, if you’re going to be a Stacy’s party. Nick’s bringing a keg and it is gonna be--” mocking Stacy’s snobby hair-flip and high voice, “--off-da-chain!”

“Yeah,” I said, laughing. “I’ll be there.”

“Your parents still think you’ve got that job?”

If Dad needed that extra pocket change of mine, he‘d have something coming to him. I‘d lost my job weeks ago. Not a likely issue anyway, considering that his job at MERCY was so solid. “Yeah. They’ve got their heads too far up their asses to notice anything.”

“Nice.” His white-toothed smile split across his dark face like a flash of lightning. “See you there. Bring somebody hot.”

It was common knowledge that I was practically the only guy here who hadn’t been with a girl. In Mirage, people hook up early - they call it small-town fate. I call it hormones. For some unexplainable reason, I just couldn’t see anything in all the girls they constantly set me up with - mean, life-of-the-party, perfect. They all just seemed plastic and suffocating. Any relationships with them felt the same. Any relationships at all felt the same.

I went outside and pushed the kickstand of my bike. I owned a car, but riding was nice cardio work when the weather was good. I couldn’t believe I’d spent all that extra time in the school hallways. Freedom!

I just couldn’t get why it didn’t feel the same. I jerked my head, shaking the feeling off while I pedaled. There couldn’t be anything better than that feeling of having no responsibilities, nothing to do or care about.

Nobody to care about.


It was then that my phone rang. The song “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third-Eye Blind was blaring. Jordan. Time to be battle-ready. “Calling to apologize?”

Surprisingly, she didn’t sound in the fighting mood. For once in her life the human gazelle was full-out panting. “Where are you?” she asked hurriedly.

“Um…” I looked around. The café on the corner just breezed by my left. “Nowhere, really.”

“Well I’m at your house, and you have got to -”

“Jordan? Are you alright, sweetheart, you look like you’re about to pass out!” That was my mom’s voice in the background. Jordan’s tone suddenly dropped a couple dozen pegs on the niceness charts. “No,I--don't worry about it. I’m…feeling sick. Lane, meet me at the usual place, ASAP.”

“Yeah, but why--?”

“Just meet me!”

Before I could answer, she’d hung up and left me as dumbfounded as before she called.

I didn’t even know how in the dark I was. I made it past the baseball fields, to the tree and then to the Hideout. Jordan was there already, sitting criss-cross with her computer on her lap. She was too much of an ADHD adrenaline junkie to have much of a passion for technology, but now she looked hypnotized. Her red-streaked auburn hair was back in a ponytail - the official sign that she was zoned in and concentrating. Brushing back a few loose strands, Jordan stared up at me, motioning to sit. I did, staring quizzically at the website she was glued to. “North Star?”

“A missing persons website,” she explained. “And…I’ve found something. I-I’m not sure of it, I mean it’s crazy, but…”

Her brown eyes looked like the bark of some ancient tree, etched by on another time, reflecting things that no one else had bothered to remember. “I found us.”

“What?”

She took a deep breath, then said, “I’m starting to think there’s a reason this town’s called Mirage, Lane. And that’s because it is what it is - a mirage.”

Again: “What?”

“I’ve found us on this site, Lane - you, me, and Arie. Others too. There are pictures we’ve seen before, at weddings, anniversaries, graduations…ones that have been staring us in the face for years.”

She clicked a link, and I saw the picture of me that was also on the living room mantle. It would’ve been practically impossible to tell, if it wasn’t for the star on the blanket. But that was it.

I felt slow asking, but I had to. “So…what does this mean?”

“It means,” Jordan decided, “that something’s up. And I have a feeling that the people in MERCY might be the cause of it. But I'm pretty sure of one thing, Lane - no one is who we think they are…not even us.”

The fact that you point out when something is a figure of speech bogs it down a little, like when Jordan is leaving with a "metaphorical storm cloud above her head." I suppose it could just be your writing style, but most times a metaphor is mentioned it's not pointed out to be a metaphor. It might better be written, "a black storm cloud swirling above her head." Still, it kinda does fit with your style, so you might as well keep it. I like how you changed the perspectives there and provided another point of vie;. I've always been slightly frustrated with first-person narrations that are limited to just one person who has to be told everything in a slightly unconvincing dialogue from a side character.
Lane sounds like he's a bit deluded by his sudden leap to fame and, while he's marginally aware that his manner and actions are causing grief, he's too comfortable to change things. This strikes me as being very realistic; I find myself doing exactly the same thing.
So basically the town's teenage population is comprised almost entirely of abducted children? Interesting...more, more!

Hey! Here to review again.

Jordan disappeared, running like the wind as usual. It was incredible that the rubber soles of her shoes hadn’t been completely worn away. My friends Nick and Darrin always joked about her appearance; she wasn’t the prettiest, and the fact that she dressed like a boy half the time didn‘t help. But they’d never seen her run like that. Or seen her when she laughs so perfectly, with that bright giggle that embarrasses her so much. They didn’t see her blush because of it. They hadn’t sat with her for hours, watching the sun die away and the stars come out, or fought with her without even wanting to win.

For some unexplainable reason, I just couldn’t see anything in all the girls they constantly set me up with - mean, life-of-the-party, perfect. They all just seemed so plastic and suffocating. Any relationships with them felt the same.

This seems... weird. Fake, almost. Yes, guys can be sweet and base a lot off of this, but this is a little too rational, and a little too girl-sounding. Like someone trying to make a perfect guy. I'm not saying he's not like this... but tone it down a little. Neither of the quotes is bad, per se, but together they practically preach his views.

Also, about the first quote... he just got in a huge fight with her, and now he's mentally defending her from his friends, on a whim? The passage isn't bad, in and of itself, but it's badly positioned. You're pinning up the fact he likes her, and right now, it's a little too early and too bad-timing to make it so obvious. Readers take well to little hints. And hints that fit with his current emotions.

Which brings me to another point:

He isn't acting made, or frustrated, or whatever. Not even when she calls. The way you put it in the first chapter, it sounded like it was a huge fight and she'd said some things to really offend him. But he's just going along as usual. Add some emotion. After all, people are ruled by their emotions, and they do things they normally wouldn't.

“Don’t touch me! Urgh, sorry, Mrs. Sumlin. I’m…feeling sick. Lane, meet me at the usual place, ASAP.”

Why did she yell "Don't touch me"? It seems kinda... random. I mean, I get how she would be jumpy, but without an explanation, it doesn't really add to the story.

a mirage. An illusion.

This seems too matter-of-fact a conclusion after simply seeing some pictures on a website. Yeah, it may seem real - and, in this case, it is - that doesn't mean she'll believe it right away - most people would have doubts - and she'd also probably be confused more so than anything. I just can't imagine her straight away thinking "Oh, our pictures our on this site, obviously my whole town is a fake and it's because of top-secret MERCY!" Sure, she might have theories and ideas and such, but sounding so sure when she just found out herself about the site... that's a little far-fetched. And immediately blaming MERCY seems a little too convenient too. Sure, it's a pretty good guess considering its history, but it's like she already knows everything and she's simply withholding some information.

Okay, so other than what I pointed out, I like this chapter. We definitely see some plot development and a few layers of mystery has been added which is always good. The characters, so far, are original, but be careful to keep them that way - it's too easy to let them slip into cliches. But so far so good.

There is one final thing I want to mention: Lane's point of view has the same writing style as Jordan's. If you were writing third person, this wouldn't really be that big of a deal, but since it's first person you need to be more aware of it. It's like with dialogue - each person speaks differently. And each person thinks differently. If both of your characters wrote about their newly-started adventure, they'd each write a very different story, not just in view point, but in style also.

Now, I know that writing with slightly different styles is difficult - it's something I find to be one of the hardest aspects of writing - but it doesn't have to be drastic. Just set them apart a little bit. Like you might if you were going for realistic dialogue, pretend you are the character. Get in their mind. Immerse yourself in them. Now think. What would they say? Feel? What do they find important, and what're they thinking about? Chances are, it'll be just a little different from the other characters. Which is good.

I like this, Storyweaver. Keep writing.

loveness, ultraviolet <3