[stylist] Writing Sample (violence, strong language)

[Joe Orozco]

Hello,

I'm hoping to gain some feedback from you guys.  For the moment, I'm not as
interested in technical editing i.e. grammar, etc.  This is only a first
draft.  I'm more interested in your thoughts with respect to the flow of the
narrative.  Can you easily follow the action?  How does the dialogue suit
you?  In the way of a background, this is the other half of the chapter I
previously submitted for review.  You need not be familiar with that first
half.  Jimmy has just been visited by Angel at his lunch table, but Angel
was dragged away by a vice-principal.  In comes Angel and his buddies, the
antagonists in this story.  All suggestions are welcomed, and thanks in
advance!--Joe

***

	Aaron stood there holding a tray.  The little group he'd been
walking with took the round table diagonally across from Jimmy's, but Clay,
the huge and ever faithful sidekick, remained beside him.  They both wore an
expression of bored amusement Jimmy would have been all too glad to slap off
their faces.
	"The hell you want?" Jimmy grumbled.
	Aaron glanced at his companion.  "They raise them to be polite in
the East Side, don't they?"
	Clay nodded with all the obedience of a Saint Bernard.  "Yeah," he
agreed, "real polite."
	"Ah man," Jimmy sighed.  "You didn't come up with something new over
the summer?"
	"Well," Aaron said, bemused, "there's only so much you can say about
your kind.  There's, like, not a whole lot there to work with."
	Some of the people at Aaron's table laughed.
	Jimmy knew arguing with these clowns was pointless.  Still, pride
was a powerful motivator, and he opened his mouth to dish out his own
insult, when someone stumbled into his chair.  A cold substance splashed
down the front of his shirt, and Jimmy jumped to his feet, the now empty
milk carton toppling off his lap and onto the floor.  He looked down at his
splattered T-shirt, now just as drenched as his jeans.
	"Oh my, I'm so sorry," a thin voice stammered.
	Glaring, Jimmy looked up and saw the skinny twig of a boy who'd ran
into him.  Jimmy didn't think he'd ever seen him before, which wasn't much
of a surprise in a campus of nearly 2,000.  The boy wore big glasses that
made his fearful eyes look like the size of saucers.  He sported a thick
helmet of red hair that made the boy's head look disproportionately large
and which randomly reminded Jimmy of Ronald McDonald.  Half the contents of
his tray had tumbled onto Jimmy's table, and the boy appeared torn between
attempting to clean the mess and making a run for it.  He set down the tray
on the table and rung his hands in front of him in such a pathetic show of
remorse that Jimmy had to wrestle down his anger.
	"Watch where you're going," Jimmy muttered, getting to his feet and
turning for his locker.
	"Yeah," Aaron jeered, "don't you know Jimmy's only got one good set
of clothes?  And there you had to go and get it all dirty on his first day."
	Jimmy turned back, the anger quickly rekindling.  "You got something
to say to me?"
	Aaron took a step back.  "My, my," he chided, "aren't we touchy?"
	"Hey, what's the deal?"
	Ricky strolled up to the table closely followed by Arnie and set
down his tray, eyes moving back and forth, taking in the scene.  "Jimmy, you
take a bath in them clothes, man?"
	Before Jimmy could answer, Aaron chimed in, "your little amigo here
decided to wear his drink.  Or, maybe he pissed himself, can't really tell."
	Aaron and Clay exchanged amused glances.
	Ricky grinned.  "Man, did you really piss yourself, homes?"
	Jimmy could have killed him.  Though Ricky was one of his two best
friends, sometimes Jimmy wondered if the boy was all there.  "Hell no, man.
Angel came by and made me spill my Coke.  Then--"
	"Oh, right," Aaron interrupted.  "How typical of the riffraff to
blame their issues on someone else."
	That's all it took.  Jimmy had sat through four hours of one boring
class after another.  He now couldn't remember what he'd learned but knew
this year would be no more interesting than the year before, and the one
period of the day he'd been counting on to get him through the long
afternoon had wound up with him standing, clothes drenched, in the center of
many stares and pointing fingers.
	"We're back to the same shit?" Jimmy snarled, advancing on Aaron,
fists coming up, "because I'll kick your ass like I always do."
	Aaron took a step back.  "Woe, killer," he said laughing.  "This
isn't your neighborhood.  Here in the civilized world we don't go round
threatening people.  Why don't you just eat a taco and take it easy?"
	Jimmy pulled his arm back, eyes blazing.  He was poised to swing,
school rules be damned, but before he could move, something came out of
nowhere and smacked against his cheekbone, making his eye water.  Something
else struck his chest.  Jimmy saw they were apples and looked over to spot a
couple guys at the far side of Aaron's table laughing and cocking back their
arms to throw more food in his direction.
	Ricky came round the table and tried to step in front of Jimmy.  He
shook his head and said, "woe, come on, guys.  Chill out."
	This time an orange zipped past Ricky's ear and bounced off Jimmy's
shoulder.
	The little red-haired kid, who'd stood there petrified, finally
broke his paralysis and darted away.
	Jimmy was about to pounce on Aaron but someone beat him to it.  A
salt shaker zipped past him and exploded against Aaron's brow in a white
cloud.  The pepper followed closely, smacking hard against the bridge of
Aaron's nose, making him take a few staggering steps backward, eyes widening
as his hands let go of the tray he'd been holding and went to his face.
	Jimmy turned and saw Arnie cocked and ready to chuck the contents of
his tray.  He caught a glance of the cool sheen that had settled over
Arnie's eyes and knew his friend was in the zone.  Jimmy opened his mouth to
tell Arnie to relax, not to bother.  Orlando would be pissed if he found out
Jimmy and his friends were into no good on the first day of school, but just
then something hard bounced off the side of his head, making him stagger
slightly.  The unopened Coke bottle turned missile hit the floor and went
rolling under a table.
	"Yeah, you stupid Mexican," Aaron hissed, fishing a handkerchief out
of his pocket and applying it to his face.
	Ricky put up his hands, moving in front of Jimmy again.  "Calm
down," he implored, "just take it easy!"
	If Jimmy hadn't been working hard to collect his bearings, he would
have rounded on Ricky for being such a pansy.  Someone else had apparently
read his thoughts.  A particularly messy chili burger came flying in and
splattered hard against Ricky's chest.  The people at Aaron's table were
beside themselves with laughter.
	Abandoning all hope of diplomacy, Ricky turned and snatched up his
tray just as a milk carton caught him high on the back.  Without preamble,
he turned and sent the tray sailing into the middle of Aaron's fan club,
spilling all manner of food and utensils as it cut the distance.  There was
a girl sitting on the far side of the table flanked by two boys, who both
sprang away from the table as a mushy brown thing on the tray that may've
been meatloaf dropped into the girl's lap.  The girl screeched and jumped
up, her terrified eyes fixed on the gravy splotch on the yellow of her
skirt.  Jimmy thought to feel sorry for her, but then again, the orange had
been this girl's contribution.
	The rest of the students had caught on to the action unfolding in
their midst.  Many of them began to form a loose circle around the two
diagonal tables.  A few of them added their contributions to the melee.  A
partially unwrapped hotdog went streaking toward Arnie's face.  Arnie just
barely escaped it and chucked a metal napkin dispenser at the offender,
catching the heavyset boy in the gut.
	Jimmy had time to marvel at Arnie's ferocity.  Everyone else had
mostly stuck to food, but his friend had quickly resorted to hardware, and
he found new respect for the laid-back boy, now moving like a slow but
lethal missile launcher in the middle of the evolving battle.  His reverence
was cut short when he spotted Clay winding back to hurl a water bottle at
his own face.
	Jimmy jumped to one side but slipped in the spill of Aaron's tray
and the general debris of the fight.  He went sprawling and came to rest at
Clay's feet.  The mountainous fool looked even taller from this low vantage
point, and Jimmy had time to see the boy's bored expression turn to one of
twisted pleasure as he cocked back his boot, ready to deliver a heavy kick
at Jimmy's ribs.
	Something crashed into Clay.  Jimmy rolled to one side and looked
around to see it was Ricky.  Ricky was no heavier than 120 pounds soaking
wet, and the collision barely moved the older boy, but when Ricky recognized
that his pushing and shoving were futile, he resorted to raining blows on
the bigger boy's chests and arms, his face set in a look almost as calm and
determined as Arnie's.
	Jimmy stumbled to his feet, the pain in his shins making him wince.
Clay was on the verge of cocking back his massive fist, and Jimmy knew his
friend did not have a chance in hell against a direct blow.  He was about to
jump in, when several blue-clad school officers came rushing in and seized
Ricky by the back of the shirt.
	Two of the guards stepped in front of Clay, pushing him back.  Ricky
was slammed to the floor face down by the other pair.  One of the officers
pulled his arms back while another slapped a pair of cuffs around his
wrists.  With the immediate danger contained, the two officers who'd tackled
Ricky turned their glare on Jimmy, who stepped back, hands out on the open,
but he too was seized, jerked around and handcuffed before Jimmy could fully
register what had happened.
	"What happened here?" one of the officers asked.  Jimmy was pretty
sure his name was Reynolds.
	Even in his surprised state, Jimmy could not help but grin.  Cuff
first, ask questions later.  That's the way to do it.  His expression did
not go unnoticed.
	"What are you smiling at, kid?" the nearest guard sneered.  Jimmy
thought this one's name was O'Connor.
	"They started throwing food," Jimmy said.  "We defended ourselves."
	"He started coming at me," Aaron piped up.  "He threatened me, and
my friends were only doing what they could to keep him away."
	"Chale," Ricky spat from his spot on the floor.  "I tried stopping
them.  They just kept throwing crap at my boy."
	"And so you start pounding on this young man?" Reynolds asked,
waving a hand at Clay, whose expression had returned to the same stupid
dreamy-eyed look he typically carried about.
	"I would hardly call it pounding.  You'll notice the size
difference."
	Everyone turned.  Arnie stood there, arms crossed, his eyes no
longer sporting their look of calculated control, though his face remained
impassive.  Jimmy was surprised to see that although everyone else had
visible signs from the abrupt squabble, Arnie had somehow pulled out of it
unscathed.
	"Are you mouthing off?" Reynolds demanded, taking a step forward.
	"Just pointing out the obvious," Arnie retorted, not budging.
	The officer glared at Arnie for a moment, then turned and waved a
hand at the group.  "Follow me, all of you," he ordered.
	Aaron nodded.  "Thank you," Aaron sighed theatrically, "maybe my
friends and I can finally get some lunch in peace around here."
	Reynolds gawked.  "What makes you think you're excluded from this
little party," he asked.
	Aaron looked astonished.  "I told you we were attacked," Aaron
protested.  "Why should we get in trouble?"
	Perhaps this little pendejo had never had cause to learn this, but
Jimmy had long since learned that Reynolds was not the cop to bitch at, not
if you wanted to keep your nose straight.  Last year he'd seen the man take
his nightstick to a boy's face when the boy had tried to flee a fight scene
in the boys' locker room.  It hadn't been pretty, but as far as Jimmy knew,
Reynolds had never been punished.  The best you could say for the rent-a-cop
was that he did not discriminate when it came to doling out punishments.
Black, brown, yellow and white had all fallen victim to the man's fury.
	"You questioning me?" Reynolds asked, incredulous.
	"I just thought," Aaron began.
	"I could give a fat damn what you think," the officer snapped.
	A fist grabbed Jimmy by the back of the shirt and propelled him
forward.  Ricky was brought to his feet and was also escorted behind the
procession now moving through the cafeteria, which had lapsed into a general
murmur.  The spectacle of Angel being hauled off was one thing.  Angel was
always drawing attention to himself doing something or other, but an Angel
show and a food fight in one lunch period was a rarity even for the restless
student body at Crayton High.
	From the corner of his eye Jimmy saw Arnie following along,
unphased, and Jimmy again had to wonder where this new tough guy had been
hiding.  Arnie was not the peacemaker Ricky tried to be, but he'd never gone
out of his way to get into the middle of things either.  Orlando kept saying
it was because Arnie was going to go somewhere someday and that they should
all try to be more like him.
	As they walked out into the hallway beyond the double doors a new
thought hit home.  If Orlando would be pissed, Jimmy's mom was apt to go
completely ape shit.