[stylist] Writing Sample, (strong language, and some descriptions of sex)

[Joe Orozco]

Let me know what you guys think, especially with regard to the flow of
dialogue, and please take note of the warning of strong language and
description of sex, in case anyone is not interested in reading further.

***

	“Que paso!”

	A dark brown hand came around from behind and seized Jimmy by the
shoulder, nearly raising him off the chair with a vigorous shake.  The Coke
he’d been sipping clattered to the table in a growing spread of fizzing
soda.  Jimmy made to lunge back, but the spill washed over the edge of the
table and onto his lap.  The hand let go, and an all too familiar cackle
overtook the general hum of conversation in their side of the cafeteria.

	“Woe, esé!” Angel exclaimed, dropping into the chair next to him,
eyes dancing.  “It’s just me, homes.  Don’t freak out on me!”

	Jimmy stared, momentarily stunned.  He opened his mouth to cuss out
this brazen intruder.  Then he laughed, unable to help himself.  “Man, I
ought to make you eat that Coke bottle,” Jimmy said, reaching for a wad of
drenched napkins and throwing them at his guest.

	Angel easily dodged the throw and leaned back in his chair, propping
his boots up on the table.  “Calmado!” he exclaimed, laughing.  “No need for
all that hostility on the first day of school!”

	“No need for all that sneaking up on people neither,” Jimmy
retorted, shifting in his seat and trying to pull his sopping pant legs away
from his skin.

	Angel waved a dismissive hand.  “Relax, bro,” he said.  “Your
panties’ll get dry before your home ec class.”

	Jimmy shrugged.  He was now a sophomore, a little higher on the
totem pole but still trying to find his place in the crowd.  There was no
need to make a big deal and risk giving the impression he was still just
another little snot-nosed pipsqueak.  “I’m not in home ec,” he said.  “It’s
called culinary arts, and they, made, me take it.”
	He was enrolled in no such thing, but he could go along with it.

	Angel’s grin widened.  “Right, man.  Whatever you say.”  He reached
into Jimmy’s food basket, which had somehow miraculously escaped the Coke
bath, and grabbed a handful of fries.  Talking around a mouthful, Angel
asked, “So where’s Rolando?”

	“Jimmy nodded at the windows running along the west wall and in the
general direction of the playing fields.  “Not sure,” he said, “probably out
there playing football.”

	Angel’s eyebrows rose.  “I thought football was after school.”

	Jimmy shrugged.  “Don’t know, man.  You know how he gets real into
it.  He’s probably out there getting in some extra drills with the other
dudes.”

	“I haven’t seen much of you and your older bro,” Angel observed.
“What y’all been up to?”

	“Not too much,” Jimmy replied, leaning back and hoping to strike his
own relaxed pose and knowing he’d never be able to mirror the older boy’s
suave presence, certainly not with a big wet spot on the front of his pants.

	“Yeah?”

	“Yeah,” Jimmy said.  “You know, hanging out, keeping it cool.
Rolando’s too cool for me now that he’s a senior.”

	“So all’s been quiet,” Angel said, winking and taking another
fistful of fries.  “I know Rolando’s not down with gang banging, but he’s no
pretty boy, so what gives, esé, you holdin’ out on me?”

	“Naw, man,” Jimmy laughed.  “What would I be holding out from you?”

	“You guys been over to Hidalgo lately?”

	Jimmy took a chicken tender from the basket, pondering his response.
Hidalgo was one of the local parks that served as one of the few neutral
zones on the south side.  There was nothing wrong with Jimmy and his boys
having hung out there, but yesterday Rolando had broken one of the cardinal
rules, and not for the first time.  All of a sudden Jimmy understood this
was no casual visit.

	“Here and there,” Jimmy said.  Hoping for a change of subject, he
asked, “How’s that new chick working out?”

	“Carina?  Yeah, she’s alright,” Angel said, waving a dismissive
hand, “for now.”

	If there was one thing Jimmy hoped to work on this year, it would be
growing the balls to talk to girls.  He was about to ask a follow-up, maybe
start gathering tips toward this ambitious endeavor, when Angel said,
“Someone busted one of my drops yesterday.  I got a tip.  They described a
dude that looked a lot like Rolando.”

	“Ricky, that fuckin’ snitch,” Jimmy spat.

	“No,” Angel said, shaking his head.  “I won’t tell you who it was,
but Ricky would never rat you guys out like that.  He might be my little
bro, but he’s some kind of loyal to you guys.”  Angel’s grin widened.  “It
bugs the crap out of me sometimes, but I’d rather he hang out with y’all
than my little band of hoods.”

	“Who snitched then?” Jimmy pressed.

	“Don’t push it, little man,” Angel admonished.

	Jimmy looked at Angel, who was still grinning good-naturedly, but
there was a look in the older boy’s eyes, something like a cool breeze in an
otherwise sunny landscape. Jimmy all at once remembered that the boy sitting
at the table was no longer one of Rolando’s many childhood friends who had
spent so many afternoons shooting hoops, playing video games and pulling
stupid pranks.  Angel was the well-known leader of the Latin Love, arguably
one of the most revered sets in South Lansdale.  He was no Chuey Fajardo,
but you didn’t get to become the leader of one of the toughest gangs by
being a coward.

	“So what happened yesterday?” Angel prodded.

	Lying was out of the question.  Jimmy knew things could only get
worse, and he also knew that Rolando would not have wanted him to lie
anyway.  Jimmy thought his older brother sometimes wanted to deliberately
piss off Angel, perhaps thinking that their old friendship would keep him
protected.  Now, seeing a glimmer of the thug Angel had become in the boy’s
eyes, Jimmy wasn’t so sure.

	“We were throwing the ball around,” Jimmy said.  “These dudes pulled
up, tried to sell some of the little kids some weed.  Rolando went ape shit
and told ‘em to fuck off before he called the police.”

	Angel nodded, apparently figuring as much.  “They weren’t there to
sell to kids,” he said.  “That was stupid, and I’ll deal with it.”

	Jimmy saw an opening.  “That was all Rolando was trying to do,”
Jimmy pointed out.  “He just wanted to keep the little kids out of it.  You
know how Orlando gets about drugs.”

	Angel shook his head.  “Maybe yesterday,” he muttered, “but it’s not
the first time, homes.  He can’t mess up the rotation for people and expect
to get away with it forever.”

	Before Jimmy could ask what that meant, Ms. Cavanaugh, the junior
vice principal, appeared at Angel’s shoulder, seeming to materialize out of
nowhere.  She was a tall, thin woman, dressed in a black suit whose severe
tone did little to match the disdain pouring from her bespectacled eyes.

	“I must have missed the memorandum, Mr. Servantes,” she said, hands
on hips.  “Otherwise I would have known our cafeteria became your personal
lounging area over the summer.”

	Angel’s eyebrows went up.  Glancing at Jimmy, he asked, “you know
what this lady’s yackin’ about, esé?”

	Jimmy busied himself with his food basket, not at all interested in
sharing the other boy’s fate at the hands of the strictest school
administrator.

	“I beg your pardon?” Ms. Cavanaugh said, her dark green eyes growing
colder.

	“I didn’t know this was my lounge area either,” Angel said, throwing
an arm out and looking about as though genuinely astonished.  “If you guys
want to give me a place to chill, I expect some couches, a six-pack, some
flat screens, maybe a couple of fine honeys...”

	“Your clod hoppers, Mr. Servantes,” she cut in.  “Apparently the
sarcasm was wasted on you.”

	“The what?”  Angel tried to look utterly perplexed, though his eyes
could not help but dance about, soaking up the attention he’d attracted from
the surrounding tables.

	“Your boots,” Ms. Cavanaugh spat.  “Remove them from the table
immediately.  This is not your home.”

	Understanding appeared to wash over Angel’s features.  “Ohhhhhh, my
boots!” he repeated.  “Well, why didn’t you just say so.”

	“Mr. Servantes,” the vice principal sighed, “I trust this year will
be a fresh start.”

	“Oh, it’ll be a fresh start alright,” Angel murmured, glancing at
Jimmy again.  “You have no idea what I’ve got in store for you.”

	“I will not put up with your obstinate behavior this year,” Ms.
Cavanaugh snapped, “let’s discuss it in my office.  I will not be spoken to
that way.”

	“In your, uh, office?”  Angel’s expression wrestled between mock
concern and jocularity.  “Ms. C, but they might catch us.  It’s the middle
of the day!”

	Only sheer force of will kept Jimmy from bursting into laughter when
Ms. Cavanaugh seized Angel by an ear and yanked him off the chair and away
from the table.  Jimmy somehow didn’t figure this show of discipline was
legal, but it was worth it if only to see the spectacle of Angel scrambling
to keep up with the principal still leading him by an ear, Angel all the
while shrieking something about child abuse.

	“Aw, sad to see your boyfriend go away?”

	Jimmy’s grin collapsed.  He knew who it was even before he turned to
see Aaron Murray standing there.

***

Joe Orozco

“Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves,
some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all.”--Sam Ewing