I’m having to take a break from Camp Nano because my plot is such a tangled mess. The problem is and always has been that i came up the characters first (100 of them, long story), narrowed down the list to my favorites (bout 15) and tried to start writing from there. As the work became less ensemble focused and got an Actual Protagonist, it became harder to justify having all of these characters in the story at all when they are so tangentially related to the protagonist’s story.
So instead, today i’m fixing up and posting a chapter about one of my favorite characters! This chapter about Artemis was written during the 2016NaNo as part of an experiment in different characters as the protagonist. Though i love her and her relationship with her mother, there wasn’t a proper storyline i could think up for her to lead, so she’s fallen by the wayside. But hey, at least I still have a fun chapter from her point of view! Story below the cut.
"Floyd, Artemis?"
Artemis shot the substitute teacher a look which said, "What do you want?" At least, she hoped it would be interpreted that way. Despite relying extensively on body language to communicate, like many teenagers do, adults tended to misread even the simplest of her gestures.
There were no signs this substitute would be any different. She was young, rather short, and had even less passion for the job than she had experience. Her reading of the attendance was like a machine gun, rapid fire and mechanical. There was no way Artemis could slow her down to get a word in to explain her condition. She sagged her shoulders in a silent sigh, preparing for the worst.
The substitute looked up from the list of students, searching for the owner of a name which to her, held no meaning.
"Artemis? Is there an Artemis here?" The teacher glanced around the classroom with little effort.
Nobody responded, lest of all Artemis herself.
A fellow student piped up as her savior, not out of friendliness, but just to break the awkward silence. "Don't worry miss, she ain't able to talk. She's sitting up the back. Best to leave her like that."
The substitute teacher looked from the student who had spoken towards the back row, scanning for student whose appearance matched her idea of a troublemaker. It did not take long for her gaze to fix on Artemis. It was probably her hoodie, Artemis thought bitterly.
"Miss Floyd, even if you have a… condition, you still need to confirm your attendance for legal reasons. Not doing so immediately will impede this class's function. Just a hand will suffice."
What a hypocrite, Artemis thought to herself. This sort of teacher would take any student who even minorly defied her and make an example of them in from of the whole class, even if it was more of a disruption than the student's original transgression. She wasn't going to put her hand up, not for her- she would beat her at her own game, waste her time instead.
The teacher stared her down as Artemis tried to sit as nonchalantly as she could, leaning back in her chair. She could stay silent forever.
But the class wasn't content to be left in limbo. One by one, they twisted their necks to glance at the disruptive student. There were some murmurs on the far side of the room, and one person even yelled loudly "Come on, stop holding us up, I don't want to be in this fuckin class all day!" All eyes were on her.
Artemis pulled up her scarf to conceal her face, especially her burning cheeks. She tentatively raised her gloved hand, a flag of surrender to the teacher's assault.
The teacher sighed- audibly, for unlike Artemis, she still possessed the gift of speech- before returning to marking the role. The other students all looked away, resuming their below the breath chatter that the unfocused teacher wouldn't hear.
She didn't need their attention anyway, Artemis thought to herself as she gazed out the window to the snow-covered grounds. Getting acknowledged once in class was enough for the day. Any more would be a nuisance. With her condition, it was a rare folk who would push for her participation, and those who did were aggravatingly condescending. She couldn't talk to anybody; no-one would talk to her.
This prophecy held true for the rest of the day. The teachers had given up on her years ago; even without uttering a word they had her personality marked as a troublemaker, a deadbeat, a dead weight on the rest of the class. She dressed the part as well; never wearing a shade lighter than boysenberry purple, scarves and gloves all year round, and her ubiquitous hoodie. God, the school hated hoodies, but that only reinforced her fashion sense instead of dissuading it.
These apparel choices, though questionable in summer, were a perfect match for the blistering cold which greeted her as she exited the school gates. Artemis trudged over to the creaky wooden bench that sat under the shadow of a mighty pine. This was where she sat every afternoon, watching the swarms of students disperse homeward. Her mother expected her home soon, but making her wait was advantageous. Barbara never knew when she was going to arrive, and that made it easier to avoid her.
Artemis watched the crowds of students spill out of the school, their individual chatter forming a deafening cacophony of meaningless conversation. She heard them laugh (or at least giggle) as they walked by with their friends, having a brilliant time (or at least an okay time). To them, laughter was a joy they indulged in every day. She wished she could laugh, but she rarely found things funny anymore.
Artemis saw a group of students walking to the side gate, right past the bench. She eyed them. What were they talking about? She considered staying put, acting normal for once. But, irrational and deeply habitual urges kicked in, and she found herself standing up, wiping the frost of her pants and deftly springing off the bench into the branches above her. Extending her arms, she grabbed at a thick branch, gripping it tightly as she waited for the vibrations caused by her sudden weight to cease. As the students got closer, she pulled herself up onto the branch. She was still partially visible, but she doubted anyone would look up at her unless she made a disturbance. Which she never did.
The students passing below were a group she knew well. At the front was Ingrid, proud and confident. Behind her was Caitlin. She was the one who had yelled during the class, as stubborn and perpetually frustrated as ever. Artemis glared at her silently. Towards the back, Neil trod onward, perpetually lost in thought.
Artemis wondered what they were going to say. The one advantage her silence had was that it made listening so much easier, without the distraction of her beating heart. Were they going to speak about how she acted in class that morning? Would Caitlin reiterate her grievances, would Ingrid turn face and agree? Would even Neil pipe up, his embarrassingly squeaky voice still carrying more weight than Artemis' own? They would never say it to her face, but maybe, if she stayed hidden, leaned out, gathered information…
"So yeah, the English teacher today was totally misusing Freytag's Pyramid. You can’t apply a five- part structure to a 4-panel internet comic. Like, does the story change ever 0.8th of a panel?"
"It works if you split each panel of the comic into both the visual and literary components. That way the mise-en-scen of the first panel conveys the situation, while the dialog causes rising action. The punchline being in the second panel is unorthodox, but altogether a genius move by the composer. This way, the last two panels seem intentionally hollow, mimicking the pyrrhic victory of the protagonist in their pursuit of…."
Neil's voice trailed off into the cold air, and Artemis was left furious at her own stupidity. Of course they wouldn't be talking about her. They were more interested in their own lives, their own struggles. Without a voice, she couldn't join their conversation. She was nothing.
Her tears welled like wax dripping from a nearly extinguished candle. She wiped them off with her scarf, and hurriedly clambered down the tree, trying not to let her body shake both from the cold and her silent sobs.
It was no wonder that her foot slipped.
As she came crashing down into the snow, her bones felt as if they had broken from the impact. But there was no crack. There was no thump. She was still alive.
And that was the worst part.
She rushed away from the schoolyard, as fast as her hurting legs could carry her. She was fast, but lacked stamina, and was out of breath by the time she had made it down the great hill to her front door. She stood there for a few seconds, catching both her breath and her composure. She reached out and grabbed the door handle. As she stepped through the doorway, a sudden rush of aimless anger overtook her, and she slammed the door as hard as she could behind her, trying to release her anger through sheer kinetic force.
The frame shuddered, but otherwise, did not make a sound.
She didn't have time to worry about her trials at school today. Being at home was the real challenge, Artemis thought as she turned around, facing down the long hallway of her house. Up the hall and to the right, she heard sounds of her mother shuffling about the kitchen. She was humming a tune, something she never did around Artemis. She was probably making dinner for them both, something Artemis would preferably not eat. She had no idea Artemis was home.
Up the hall and to the left was the staircase that led upstairs to Artemis' room. She started walking down the hallway, before stopping abruptly. Her mother had set another trap.
Barbara insisted that Artemis check up with her every day when she came home from school, to Artemis' great displeasure. Artemis went to great lengths to avoid any conversation with her mother and her awkward signing of a language she was not yet used to. Even worse was her cloying attitude. After a day on one battlefield, the last thing she wanted was to have to face another.
So Artemis found ways to make it as hard for her mother to catch her. Some days she came in the front door, others, the back. Climbing in windows was not above her either; at least until Barbara had installed iron bars on them. It had escalated from a sort of game into an all-out war. Artemis had snuck power tools into her room one night and got to work (silently) unscrewing the bolts; Barbara had only found out because of a lucky bathroom trip After that she had locked all the power tools away in the garage. Barbara had even considered getting motion sensors, but found them above the families' budget, especially since Artemis would attempt to circumvent them anyway.
The latest trap must had been installed earlier in the day. It was a full length standalone mirror that had sat in the corner of her mother's room for as long as she could remember. It was tilted in a way so that a person in the kitchen could always glance over and see movement on the stairs. No matter how quiet she was, Barbara had a discerning eye, so one wrong move and a painful conversation would be unavoidable.
To avoid her mother, Artemis would have to get sneaky. The mirror had a blind spot- though it covered all vision from about knee height, its elevated stand left a small gap which the rather thin Artemis could sneak beneath undetected. Artemis got on her hands and knees and began to crawl slowly, making sure to make her arched back didn't poke into the mirror's sight.
Right underneath the mirror, she looked up, and saw her mother reflected in the mirror, still humming away. She was making pesto pasta. That wouldn’t be that bad, Artemis thought to herself, even briefly considering trying to sneak some up to her room later. But for now, she was focused on her mission.
She continued slithering across the floor, like a snake with arms, legs, and arguably even more grace. Finally, she was sure she was past the mirror's range. She stood up, glanced back around the corner into the kitchen, and walked up the stairs. Finally, she was free, uninhibited, able to move wherever in the house she wanted whenever she wanted. At least, until her mother installed her next trap.
Artemis slammed her bedroom door closed, this time not out of anger, but out of satisfaction. No matter what I do, you cannot know. No matter what sound I make, you cannot hear me, whether it be my voice, my footsteps, or my actions. I live enveloped in a cocoon of silence, unable to escape, but still, able to move around the world, even swathed with this curse.
That would be a good entry to her diary she thought. She'd been meaning to update it. But instead, she pulled out her schoolbook which she had been doodling in the whole day.
Inside was a detailed sketch of the plans of a house, in a well off neighborhood on the far side of town. Entry points, exit points, security, it was all marked.
She had planning to do.
________________________________________________________________So yeah that’s my girl Artemis! @create-and-procrastinate @lady-redshield-writes @cog-writes anyone else want to get tagged?
