Vicissitudes--4. Laurence

First off, I would like to apologise for getting round to review this so late - I've gotten so busy all of the sudden, it's total madness =P. Anywhooo, I really can't apologise enough for how late this is - I hope my review will make it up to you!! (:

Bickazer wrote:Vicissitudes
4. Laurence

Love, love, love, love.

What the hell does that word even mean anymore? I mean, I swear “I love you” is the most fucking overused phrase of the century. If I have to hear another gaggle of vapid girls squealing “I loooooove you~ [should that be there?]!” while hugging each other and shrieking, I will break something, and I will start with them.

Gramps wouldn’t approve. He always drilled in my head that it was important I be “chivalrous” to girls[I would end the speech marks here, as it still sounds like a quoted speech to here, if you get what I mean?], whatever the hell that meant. But what the fuck, I might admire Gramps but I don’t have to agree with him on everything!

Besides, I think “love” is the most overrated shit that’s ever been invented.

I mean, just look at Gramps and Grandma. [NP >>]Now Gramps, he’s a man to admire. He served in both WWII and Korea—yeah, he’s that old—and has got a ton of medals, Purple Heart included on account of his leg [It might (probably) just be me being stupid, bu this last part doesn't make sense to me, so I would maybe rephrase?]. He can still shoot like a devil even though his leg’s all mangled, and in fact he taught me how to shoot. It made him kind of mad when I decided to drop the gun for the racket, though. He was so dead set on me being a soldier it practically gave him a heart attack when he found out otherwise.

But still! Gramps is a pretty awesome old guy. Grandma, though…well, if she isn’t the walking definition of bitch, you can paint me purple. Actually, scratch that, since Dora Florence [who?]would have already painted me purple ten times over. But seriously, all Grandma ever does is nag me about my grades and schoolwork and shit I couldn’t care less about. She thinks being a soldier or athlete or anything cool is no profession for (I quote) “a good, smart[comma as you're still describing the "boy"] young boy” like me, and wants to see me be a lawyer instead... Well, fuck her. I’m becoming a tennis pro and that’s final. No matter what the hell any of you say—Gramps, Grandma, Mom. At least Dad kinda-sorta encourages me. I know he wishes I’d be a cop like him but it’s his own fault. He’s pounded it into my head ever since I was little that I gotta follow my own path, so here I am [this doesn't quite sound right to me used here, so I would maybe rephrase it?].

I could be doing better than I am now, though. Like, going to a school that actually has a good tennis team. But Mom, damn her, was adamant about me going to an in-state university. Hell, she didn’t even want me to move out of the goddamned county! I remember, right before I left for college, we had a conversation that went like this:

ME: OK, Mom, look, do you want your only son to get an education or not, huh? I’m not waiting tables for a living, that’s for sure!
MOM [do you think that these bits should be in italics - I'm not too sure though...]: But Laurie! I worry every day about you. I know you’re not ready to live on your own yet, oh, why don’t you stay with your mommy and—

Blecch. It’s so embarrassing. None of my friends have moms like mine. Hell, in a lotta their cases their parents couldn’t kick ‘em out of the house fast enough! Not mine, though. Mom and Dad got into huge arguments about letting me leave for college in the first place. I could hear them—hell, I bet our entire neighborhood could hear them. Even, unfortunately, those damned Danielses who I swear breed like rabbits, what with their huge brood of twenty kids or so.

It just makes my head spin. I can’t imagine Mom and Dad ever loving each other and I can imagine Gramps and Grandma even less. Half the time it seems they’re at each other’s throats. Is this love? It sure as hell isn’t anything like it is in the movies, I’ll say [I think that maybe a use of a hyphen would be good instead of a comma, just to break the two bits up. What do you think?]! In the movies the girl and the guy might argue once or twice, but they always get back together just by making out. Whoomph! The magic make-out to the rescue, or rather, the script writers running out of time and having to resolve their problems before their audience pisses their pants ‘cause you know, they drank too many Cokes.

Ha! As if a make-out session could ever fix anything! If it did, me and Dora wouldn’t keep breaking up, would we? I don’t even know what I see in her. Well, she makes for an occasional fun night in bed, but is that really enough a benefit for all her screaming and shrill bitchiness? I swear—half of Dora’s problems come from the fact that she expects real life to be like the movies. She expects all our problems to resolve within a neat two hours, and us to live happily ever after when we’re done making out. The fact that it doesn’t pisses her off, and she takes her rage out on me. Damn her.

It’s come to my attention that I need something better than Dora, probably. I mean, why do I keep breaking up and making up (or should I say, out) with her? You’d think I could do better than Dora Florence of all people. I mean, she isn’t even that hot. I guess she’s okay-looking, but when there are ladies like Pamela Anderson around…

Not like I could ever get Pamela Anderson. Hey, unlike some guys I’m actually realistic! But still, I’ve been shopping around now. I mean, I just broke up with Dora for the seventh time already, so I’m free now! Girls, come and have me!

I kid, I kid, of course. First of all, I don’t like any of the girls who hang out with me—they’re all exactly like Dora, and worse, some of them are chain-smokers, which means, you guessed it, they all have gravelly and grating voices. Ick. No, the girl I currently think I have the best chance of snagging is, well…

I don’t think Tyler would approve. She is, after all, his sixteen-year-old sister Pearl.

But who gives a shit! Since when did I care what Tyler fucking Daniels ever thought? I didn’t care back when I had Vance, and I care even less now that I’m chasing Pearl. There aren’t even many twenty-year-old girls with boobs the size of Pearl’s, after all! Plus she seems reasonably intelligent which I’ll tell you is a major boon after Dora.

Hmm. Vance. Well. I suppose I should talk about him for a bit.

I don’t really know what drew me to him in the first place. Like, what the fuck, in any normal situation I’d have never noticed a kid like him. He was just one of those shy namby-pamby Asian nerds who set the curves in every class and makes you want to beat ‘em up because they make the curve too high, you know? By all means and intents I should not have given a damn about Vance Hikari.

But I did, for some reason. It was in Honors Chemistry, sixth hour, when I got assigned to be his lab partner. I remember that I was blessing myself for my luck—I got put with the smart Asian kid who actually seemed to know what he was doing! I could just sit back and let him do all the work instead of trying to fix all my friends’ idiotic mistakes.

He didn’t talk much to me. He didn’t even look at me—he kept his eyes on the beakers and mixing the chemicals, while I lolled around doing nothing. Which was fine by me, but I got bored after a while. I hadn’t realized how much fun I’d been having in this class, cleaning up after my friends’ (sometimes disastrous) errors. So to pass the time, I began to watch him.

He was wearing his lab goggles, unlike half the kids in class, since he always followed the rules. I noticed how black his hair was, and how it spilled loose and unrestrained over his forehead—he had not got it cut for a while. His hands were very thin, his fingers long, like a pianist’s, and he manipulated the beakers and droppers with infinite, almost surgical, precision. And his face…well, I couldn’t see his eyes much behind both the goggles and his glasses, but I could see that his forehead was creased in studious concentration, and his dark eyes were focused only on the beaker in front of him. He was, I realized with surprise, really into what he was doing. To him, it was important that he do it right, or not at all.

And without even realizing it, in the back of my head, I began wanting to make him mine.

Well, you might say I succeeded at that! Pretty soon we’d gone to Homecoming together, prompting much shock because no one in Brookridge High School had so much suspected me of being anything besides a red-blooded straight male. I was happy to prove them wrong. No one cared much that Vance was gay since no one even knew him. I soon found out that Vance had no friends beside his girlfriend Allison Brussels.

Okay, I kid. I know her name is Alice Berlin, and to this day Vance has insisted that they’re just friends. Yeah, right. I know the way she looks at him. You do not look at your friend with eyes like that. Those are bedroom eyes, and Vance is a damn fucking idiot if he can’t see it. But he’s gay so I guess it doesn’t matter to him.

I never let Mom or Dad, or Gramps or Grandma, know about Vance, though. I did let them meet him, but always introduced him as “friend-slash-vague-acquaintance from school”. They were pleased, and also pleased with the hours spent at the “library”, where we “studied”. Sure, my grades did jump during the two and a half years I spent with Vance—but that was because he let me (read: I [I don't quite understand the use of 'read' here, I think you should delete it or make the use of it clearer?]made him let me) copy his homework. As for our time at the “library”…?

That goes without saying, doesn’t it?

Sometimes I like to idly imagine what would have happened if Dad, or even richer, Gramps, found the truth. Gramps had always been suspicious of Vance on account of his being Japanese, and in Gramps’s mind WWII has never exactly been over. But hey, can you blame the guy? His brother died in Pearl Harbor. So lay off. But anyhow, I digress.

. ME: Hey, Gramps! Guess what—I’m gay! And my boyfriend is Vance Hikari!
GRAMPS: What? How can this be? No! I’ve raised a faggot for a grandson! A faggot who consorts with the enemy!

Ha. I’m glad it never happened.

Well, now Vance is no longer mine so I don’t have to deal with any prickly Gramps-related issues anymore. But am I happy that he left me? Not in the slightest! I wouldn’t have minded if he chose anyone but Tyler Daniels. I mean, god fucking Tyler Daniels. Anyone could do better than that!

I gotta tell you I was amused about him and Tyler. The day before Vance officially left me for good, I caught him while he was packing his clothes (the new ones, with all the chains and belts and Hot Topic shirts and such. Weird, but I guess he decided to change his look after leaving me), and had a conversation with him.

“So,” I said. “You gonna have fun with Tyler?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, folding another one of his Hot Topic T-shirts. Ouch! Such language. Clean your fucking mouth out, Vannie boy![Haha, love the irony used here =P ]

“What’s so wrong with me, huh?” Then, before I could let him answer, I started on an idle tangent that had suddenly popped into my mind. “Is it any coincidence that you’re leaving me for blonde, blue-eyed, Anglo-Saxon Tyler Daniels?”

“Hmm?” He cast a brief glance up before folding a pair of pants that jangled while he folded them—that was how many chains were dangling from them. “What are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” I said, unable to help the teasing edge that slipped into my voice. “Except you sure you’re not trying to start the Axis Powers again?”

“Don’t be an idiot. Any perceived racism on your part is just that—perceived,” said Vance, neatly settling the jangling pants into his suitcase. “I’m leaving you because I dislike you. That’s all.”

Wow, blunt! In all our two and a half years together Vance had never spoken to me in such stark terms before—mostly he was trying to keep his head lowered and figure out what to say to placate me. Oh well. I kept on pursuing this discussion just for the hell of it.

“Though I’m figuring that if you want to make your Axis of Evil complete, you should let Ludwig into your little group.” Well, I had to admit I didn’t know how much Italian Ludwig had in him, but hell, his last name was Florence!

At that, Vance looked up at me, his dark eyes as intense as they’d been that afternoon two and a half years ago, in chemistry class. Much to my surprise, Vance was smiling—a faint, sardonically amused little smile that didn’t extend to his eyes.

“I wonder about your usage of the word ‘evil’,” he said.

And that was the last thing he said in that little conversation, and in fact the last thing he ever said to me as my “boyfriend”. He said that to me and then, the next day, he was walking arm-in-arm with Tyler Daniels.

I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel[s]ing[/s] anything. I did. It pissed me off, how fucking Tyler Daniels had swooped in with his holier-than-thou words and stole Vance away from me when I hadn’t been looking. I knew Vance thought Tyler a savior but I knew better. Tyler, just like me, didn’t love Vance. He “liked” Vance for exactly the same reasons I did, and unlike what most teenage girls might think, those reasons do not equal “love”. Only Tyler was too fool to tell that he didn’t love Vance, and Vance…

Vance knows he doesn’t love Tyler and this pisses me off the most. I’d already suspected it and my suspicions were only confirmed when he flat-out told me “no” in our discussion at our camping trip. Well, he changed his answer to “I don’t know” but I could tell what he was really thinking. And it annoyed me. It still does.

If Vance doesn’t love Tyler, why doesn’t he leave? I mean, he left me because he didn’t love me! So why doesn’t he do the same for that simple moron Tyler and ditch him for…what the fuck, I don’t know, Alice? Just anybody besides Tyler.

Am I still hung up over Vance Hikari? Of course not! No fucking way I am! I already got over that little bitch almost three years ago. I don’t care about him anymore. He can do whatever he wants and I won’t give a shit. I had a girlfriend and I’m going to get a new one. I don’t need Vance at all.

Yeah fucking right.

I do miss him. It bothers me that I do, it bothers me beyond anything. I should have long gotten over him but…I’ve got to admit…every time Dora and I did it, I couldn’t help but compare her to Vance. Probably what indirectly contributed to each of our relationships falling apart. She’s not like him. She screams, she whines, she demands, instead of passively lying back and taking everything like Vance did. And in the end, I get tired of that and ditch Dora while wishing for Vance to make me feel alive during the nights again.

And Pearl. I gotta admit, part of the reason I’m attracted to her isn’t just her chest (though that is a major perk…and yeah, I reserve the right to make lousy puns). It’s also because Pearl likes to read Shakespeare—just like Vance does.

I would also say it’s because Pearl wears glasses, but that is creepy beyond belief. If I liked any random nobody who wore glasses just ‘cause it reminded me of Vance (and he doesn’t even wear his glasses all the time anymore, since he has contacts now), I’d be lusting after Dick Cheney. Which is not an appealing thought in the slightest. I feel nasty just thinking it.

I spoke to Alice, last night, about—what else?—Vance. I was surprised to find her when I was coming home from a, erm, midnight stroll. She was leaning on the frame of her red Prius, in the parking lot in front of my dorm. She must have been waiting for me.

“Hello,” she said, her dark eyes cold.

“Er, good night…morning, I mean,” I said, checking my watch. The glowing digits blinked 2:54.

“What are you going to do?”

I was taken aback by her question, and I told her as much. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“I mean what I say,” she said, the hatred in her voice intensifying. Her eyes were black coals set in the middle of a perfectly white face. She had no color at all, save her wavy black hair and those burning eyes. “It’s been two and a half years.”

Great. Of course Vance’s girlfriend would want to pursue this goddamned topic. “Yeah, so? What about Vancey-poo?”

“Don’t call him that.” A faint red flush rose in Alice’s pale cheeks.

“I’ll call him whatever the fuck I like,” I snapped at her.

Alice looked ready to protest, but then just shook her head and sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that seemed to ripple through her entire frame, cause her entire body to sag. “Look…I was just wondering…if maybe…if you felt just the slightest bit of remorse for what you’ve done? No—don’t say anything! Just listen. Listen. You were never there when he was…I mean…but I was. I saw!” Her voice picked up strength, became louder, more embittered. “It was the worst. Just the worst. He suffered so long and I suffered too, seeing all the injuries…and then there were the ones I didn't see. The ones he never let me see but I knew they were there. And the psychological injuries. Who can see those? You destroyed him, you son of a bitch! And you aren't even sorry for it!”

“Hey—whoa there, cowboy—er, cowgirl—” I said, raising my hands, trying in vain to fend off her onslaught of accusations. Accusations that were all true. “Look—”

“I know you’re less than human,” she continued, her voice bitter, hard-edged. “I’ve accepted that. But still…a part of me can’t help but wonder if you feel any remorse. Any remorse at all. Even…”

She trailed off, at that, but never removed her eyes, so dark and hateful and accusing, from my face. For a moment, I struggled to get my jaw working again. My throat seemed clogged, my tongue felt heavy.

“So?” I said, displaying to the full world my oratory skills. But damn it—I just couldn’t think of anything to say! Not when she was glaring at me like she wanted to stick daggers in my skull and then kick me in the nuts twenty times with steel-toed boots. Or something equally disgusting; I don’t know.

“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” she shot back feverishly.

“Tell that to your boyfriend,” I said.

Alice visibly flinched and a bright red flush colored her pale face. I couldn’t help the smile that twitched at the corners of my lips—now I had the upper hand. And as everyone who’s ever known me knows, I specialize in the upper hand.

“He's not—he’s not my boyfriend,” said Alice after a valiant effort to get her lips working again. “We're just...we're just friends. Just friends.” She sounded almost sad when she said it.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a scornful laugh. I knew the truth. “But what do you want me to do? Say sorry to him? Give him hugs and kisses and tell him it’s okay? Come off it, lady. You don't get it. It's too...what happened between us...it's too...complicated...to fix just like that.”

A curious look came over Alice’s face, and she looked like she wanted to inquire more. She didn’t, though—not that I would ever have told her anything. Instead, she said, “I understand. I understand perfectly…” Then, in a different tone, she said, “So…Laurence. What are you going to do with your future? You’ve broken up with Dora Florence again…”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded, relieved that she’d turned the conversation away from Vance. “I don’t care, though. I’ve found someone else.”

“I’m sure you have.” Alice snorted. “Good luck with your endeavors, because you will need it. In spades.”

“I don’t need luck,” I told her, and the faint twitch of a smile became a full-on smirk. “Because I’ve got skills.”

With that, I turned around and walked away from her, hands in my pockets, not bothering to see her reaction. I just decided to leave her there to ponder what I meant by the word “skills”, and assign whatever reason she wanted to it. I could not wait to hear the delicious lies she would spread to Vance and by proxy Tyler and by proxy Ludwig and by proxy Dora…

Oh, this would be fun.

The next day, I loiter outside the gates of Brookridge High School—the same school I attended, and Vance, and Tyler, and Alice. I ignore all the other students streaming past me—even a few girls I’ve got to say are pretty damn fine. But “fine” as they might be…they wouldn’t be right.

I remember my conversation with Vance by the dying firelight, that night we went camping. I still believe, one hundred percent, in what I told him then. “Love”, if there’s even such a thing, isn’t about finding someone hot or special—just someone who feels right.

The girl who I think feels “right” to me is walking up to the gates right now, leaving behind her classmates with a cheerful wave and a laugh. She’s a redhead, like me, her hair perkily short, her blue eyes laughing behind her glasses. I straighten up, run my hand through my (admittedly meager) hair, straighten my jacket.

She is almost at the gate. There’s something familiar in her motions, in the graceful, almost catlike, way she is walking, as well as the cheerful spring to her step. A combination, I think, of two people I know all too well, for better or worse.

Just before Pearl steps through the gate, I peel myself from the wall, and step in her way. Her blue eyes widen, surprised, and she stares at me, confusion written in her features. I can’t help but smile.

“Hey there,” I say, extending my hand chivalrously—wouldn’t Gramps be proud! “You know me—I’m your neighbor, Laurence Flannery. I just wanted to ask…would you like to take a little stroll with me?”

Last Minute Views
As you may have noticed, from above, there wasn't really much that I could find wrong with it. However, I have thought of a couple of things for you to work on ...

Tyler
First off - why does Laurence hate Tyler so much? The reason I've thought of is because Tyler's going out with Vance, and as a jealous ex-boyfriend, he hates him, and thinks he's not good enough for Vance - am I right? If so, I would like you to (as inconspiciously as you can) add it in, so it's more obvious. Maybe you could add in snide comments about his appearance? Then you have a double whammy - both descriptions of his appearance and Laurence's thoughts of him

Laurence and Vance
The way you portrayed Laurence as the jealous ex-boyfriend, was amazingly done, so good job . However, I think you could maybe work on their previous relationship at a more personal level, if you get what I mean? It's just, at the moment, I don't feel as though their previous relationship actually happened - there's no special memories or anything to say that it was actually real, and not just something Vance made up. I hope you understand where I'm coming from there...

Finally ... Alice
I finally have got some description of Alice, which is awesome, however I'm going to ask (very nicely) if you could maybe expand on that description and put it into your other pieces (that isn't from Alice's POV). I would also like you to expand on what Laurence thinks of Alice ... could he imagine her as Vance's girlfriend? Does he think it's sad the way she lusts over a gay man?? I don't know, so please tell!!

Overall Comment
This was another amazing piece, and I have to say your character development is so amazing. All of your characters feel so real to me - awesome stuff . I really hope this review helps you, and please do PM me if you have any further questions, or click the link below if you wish for another review. Keep writing!!(:

--Lucyy xx

As requested, more information:

Yeah, I figured after I reviewed most of my confusion was because these really aren't stand-alone pieces and I needed to know more background information before "getting" some of the additional characters. I suppose you can address this in two ways: a) ignore some of the things I said about underdeveloped characters (like Alice), or b) If you desire for these to be stand-alone pieces, focus on quick and precise descriptions for reappearing characters that are important for the specific storyline. For instance, Alice. If she plays a somewhat significant role in a piece, but you described her more fully in another, just give some quick development of her that won't bore returning readers but add to it, and will add to the character for new readers. Of course, if these are parts to an overall story that you NEED to read together, then feel free to ignore (b).

I spoke to Alice, last night, about—what else?—Vance. I was surprised to find her when I was coming home from a, erm, midnight stroll. She was leaning on the frame of her red Prius, in the parking lot in front of my dorm. She must have been waiting for me.

This is where I would say the story becomes less diary-ish and an actual story. I'm not saying everything before it is void - it just needs to be condensed. A lot of his emotions can be shortened into only a few paragraphs, including brief descriptions of his relationship with his father and grandfather. It would be informative, help us get to know the character, but won't lose us because of rambling emotions, though we will be aware of what emotions he does feel.

I say this point the story begins to start because you have an actual event, memory, occurrence happening. And I'm not saying the narration beforehand is bad either - it's just too much too early on. I would say the best way to handle this narration would be to condense the intro and then sprinkle some of the narrative points you wanted to make at the beginning throughout the happenings of the storyline, so the reader doesn't have so much emotion/fact/background to swallow before this conversation with Alice.

I know this sounds tricky - and it is, writing is tricky - and I don't mean to sound harsh either. I do like this story - I think you have very interesting characters and an interesting love triangle, good dialogue, and the emotion involved is interesting and endearing. It's just, it's hard to take in large doses, because of the diary-tone factor. And I'm trying to give a helpful review as to where I find myself lost/disinterested (when you like the characters, it's sad to find yourself becoming disinterested due to rambling).

I hope this is helpful. I hope you can work out the areas you had problems with in this story, and I hope the points I make give you some inspiration into how to do that. Happy writing!

PM me if you have further questions.

~ Clo

Hey Bickazer! Here goes my second review for you. =D

What the hell does that word even mean anymore? I mean, I swear “I love you” is the most fucking overused phrase of the century. If I have to hear another gaggle of vapid girls squealing “I loooooove you~!” while hugging each other and shrieking, I will break something, and I will start with them.

This paragraph needs a lot of attention. First off, I find the use of "fucking" excessive, and don't get me wrong - I am all in favor of swearing, I'm a fiend, but it just doesn't seem to fit in that sentence. It doesn't seem like someone could be so worked up about the use of "I love you" that they would drop an F bomb about the phrase.
Second, ditch the "~". That's not found in writing.
And last, the last sentence: "I will break something, and I will start with them".
You say you will break "something" and then you say you will start, implying you're breaking more than one thing and that they will be the first one. This was weird when I read it, so consider rephrasing it like this: "I will break something, and it will most likely be them".

SHOUT!
I'm really not liking these exclamation points. You're already being extremely expressive with your swearing and choice of words, so the use of exclamation points is making me feel like this story is slapping me in the face. I suppose there is such a thing as being too expressive, and it can be a slight turn-off to the reader.

DEAR DIARY...
The story becomes a good read once we get back with Tyler, Vance and Laurence and all them. Some of the over-expression is still there, but I find myself interested again. As for the first part, the rambling - it reads like a diary rant. You only have rambling explanations of father/gramp's expectation, which is fine, but the method is so diary-ish. When you write in a diary, it is typically like "Wow! I am so mad. I am because..." and you rant on using many many words to explain the absurd situation. This format does not apply to stories, and this is the format of the first half of the story.

I think the issue with the first half, making it sound so diary-like, besides the emotions and expressions and rambling narrative, is the fact that it is first person narrative. If you want to keep the first half, try switching it to the third person. This will allow it to read more like a story. Without doing that, you're going to have cut off a lot of the fat. Many of the things you say and expressions are not necessary, and turn it into the ramble that it is.

DORA
The character of Dora is very confusing. She's on the outside, I don't know who she is or why he's bothering/bothered with her. You need to give her character a little more substance, so I at least can sense an actual person he's being involved with instead of a name - similar to how you treated Alice in the prior story. Also, his affair with her makes me wonder - how old is he supposed to be? I have absolutely no idea. Try giving your character an age.

I liked the previous story of yours I reviewed much better. I'm sorry if I was harsh with this one - it was the intro that turned me off, and blurred out the actual storyline that comes later on. PM me with any questions - I'm happy to answer anything!

~ Clo

Hey Bickazer! Sorry for such a late reply

Ok...review time!

Actually, scratch that, since Dora Florence would have already painted me purple ten times over.

Personally, I think that this would sound better as : "Actually, scratch that. Dora Florence would have painted me purple ten times over"

At least Dad kinda-sorta encourages me.

Choose either "kinda" or "sorta" both sounds a bit weird.

But who gives a shit!

Question mark instead of exclaimation mark.

I hadn’t realized how much fun I’d been having in this class, cleaning up after my friends’ (sometimes disastrous) errors.

Try: "cleaning up after my friends', sometimes disasterous, errors"

—he had not got it cut for a while.

Had not got it cut in a while.

And without even realizing it, in the back of my head, I began wanting to make him mine.

Well, you might say I succeeded at that! Pretty soon we’d gone to Homecoming together, prompting much shock because no one in Brookridge High School had so much suspected me of being anything besides a red-blooded straight male. I was happy to prove them wrong. No one cared much that Vance was gay since no one even knew him. I soon found out that Vance had no friends beside his girlfriend Allison Brussels.

Officially confused here. I swear he was after Pearl? So who did he want? Pearl or Vance? A little more clarity needed.

Hope I've been of some help!

happy-go-lucky