Characters! And trees thereof!

Sorry for the delayed post,  life keeps getting in the way. This week I wanted to talk about character trees. In their simplest form these are a list of the physical and character attributes of your cast. Everyone has their own idea of what these entail but I'll cover some of the basic information that they should include.

Why bother doing one in the first place? I find they're useful to ensure your characters remain consistent throughout your novel and help you differentiate them from each other so everyone doesn't act and sound the same. Working out who your characters are will help a lot in working out what they will do once you get to plotting. Here's a quick list of what you might include in a character tree.

·         A quick overview or biography of the character. Who are they? What do they want? What's their relationship to other characters? Where are they at emotionally?

·         Physical description. This can be anything from body type, hair colour, eye colour to how they dress. Be sure to include every detail you think is pertinent, from whether they wear jewellery or make up to their personal hygiene regime. It'll inform your writing of the character through the book.

·         Their character traits. Are they outgoing or introverted? The life of the party or do they sit in the corner sipping a coke? What are their interests? What are their strengths and, more importantly, their flaws. That last one is important. Nobody's perfect and the protagonist of your novel shouldn't be either. They need something to humanize them. I'll give you an example: take Superman and Spider-man. Superman is perfect, he's the strongest, smartest and has the ethics of Ghandi. As a result of this he's about as interesting as whole grain toast. Spider-man isn't perfect. He's often late for important events in his personal life, he's prone to slipping up and he rarely gets the girl. He's human but you wouldn't mind grabbing a beer with him sometime, He feels like an approachable guy. Remember you need your readers to want to spend time with your characters, make them likable but not perfect. We hate those who have everything, sad but true.

·         Their relationships with others. Who are their parents? Are they married? Engaged? Do they have kids? Are they a good husband/wife/mother/dad/friend? Who do they hang out with?

·         Their character arc. Who are they at the start of the book? How do they change? What new skills do they learn? Who are they at the end?

 

That covers the basics. As an added bonus I'm including my own character tree for the character Aimee from "Flare." It's not perfect but it could serve as a practical guide to what you might need before you start tackling the plot. My tree for Aimee isn't comprehensive, there's more in the novel that I didn't have here, but that's the fun of writing, sometimes you end up in a place you weren't expecting. I’ve also left out my character notes for books two and three, because spoilers. As always, please direct any questions, comments and offers of hugs to me via facebook.com/flarebookseries or @paddylennon1 on twitter.

Flare Series: Character trees.

Character: Aimee Dewitt (Revenant)

Bio.

Aimee is aged fourteen in part one of book one. She’s a “Vanguard” fan girl when we first meet her. She buys all their merchandise and idolises them completely. Her family are rich, her Dad, Paul, runs “DeWitt Industries” an electronics concern and weapons manufacturer. Aimee’s mother is Barbara, a former model and beauty queen. Aimee doesn’t really get on with her parents. Her Dad is distant and only had a child so there’d be someone to carry on the family name and inherit the money. Her mother is obsessed with fashion and likes spending her husband’s money. Barbara is a little put out that a daughter of hers could be so uninterested in shoes and clothes.

Aimee is embarrassed by the money her family has and isn’t really into the whole “accumulating possessions” thing. She hasn't got any friends as she finds stuff the girls her own age are interested in to be boring and she feels that most boys her own age are too dumb to be worth dealing with.

When Aimee and her mother are kidnapped it’s up to Aimee to step up and free herself. But what happens that night leaves her heartbroken and angry. Angry enough to decide to train and become a vigilante like the Vanguard members she adores.

In part two, Aimee is nineteen. She’s still not in regular contact with her father although she hears from him occasionally. She has spent the intervening five years training in martial arts, free-running etc to become a superhero. She’s been inspired by the Vanguard to try to make the world a better place, one crippled mugger at a time. Her love for the Vanguard will make her helping Ryan a natural thing when she encounters him; after all, he’s the only son of her heroes and inspiration.

Aimee is an experienced and creative fighter. In her five year training period she’s become an expert in Escrima, Silat, Kick-boxing, Karate and BJJ and is able to mix and match these fighting styles. Of the three main characters she’s the most “heroic” of the lot and, initially, by far the most competent. She’s brave, tough and utterly unwilling to back down from a fight. She has no trouble charging headfirst into a brawl and throwing everything at her opponent until they’re beaten, though she's not above cheating to ensure that she'll win. She does have a tendency to be brutal, she won’t hesitate to dislocate or break an opponent’s bones with her first strike if it means she’ll come out on top. 

Appearance.

Aimee is five foot four, brown haired and reasonably attractive. She’d be stunning if she ever made the effort to dress up, a side effect of having a model mother. She’s a fitness nut and exercises a lot through martial arts training and jogging so she’s in excellent shape and health.

Her clothing is practical and plain, no bright colours or ornamentation. She doesn’t wear jewellery as this would be dangerous in a fight (earrings get pulled out etc). She will wear gym gear a lot on her down time and hoodies and jeans when just hanging out. None of her relaxation clothes will be top of the line stuff, no Gucci or Prada for her, just better than average brands but nothing flashy.

She wears a bare minimum of make-up, no fake tan etc.

She will dress up for work, plain suits and blouses, better than the average but not over the top in any way. She’s a little ashamed of her wealth and doesn’t want to advertise it.

Revenant.

Aimee’s costume as Revenant will be practical, plain and cover her entire body. It’s mostly black with some grey accents. It would be similar to the survival suit from “Batman Begins”, matte black body armour with a soldier’s web-gear on top. It’ll be tough enough to stop a bullet or blade but also flexible enough to allow her to fight.  She carries her equipment in her web gear. Two Escrima sticks in a scabbard on her back (sticks are thirty-two inches long), combat knife in a scabbard on her left thigh, Grappling gun in a holster on her left thigh. Two flashbang grenades in a pouch on her waist. Other pouches have plastic explosive, detonators, a Leatherman tool, a torch, matches in a waterproof pouch, survival rations and a canteen of water.

She wears a mask to obscure her features but which leaves her mouth visible. The lenses in her mask act as infra-red and night vision lenses when required.

She has a portable computer built into the gauntlet on her left wrist, this is a GPS / map and can help her hack into security systems etc.

Book One Character Arc.

Aimee becomes a hero after a tragedy. We see her first night as a hero and on her second evening in the suit she runs into Ryan. She starts out as someone who is only interested in revenge but meeting Ryan will soften her somewhat. She’ll joke with him etc as she’s so happy to be hanging out with the son of the people who inspired her.  She’s almost too ready to trust him but will quickly assign herself the role of his protector as she realises that Ryan can be a little swept up in things and quickly finds himself out of his depth.  She may even come across as a little bossy to Ryan at certain points but it’s because she wants him to push him to live up to his lineage.

Flare: The Kitchen Scene

Here's an extract from Chapter five of the book. This is probably the scene in the book that went through the most re-writes. The characters have already been introduced at this point in an earlier battle scene but I wanted to add some depth to them and show off their personalities and particularly their relationships, mainly through dialogue. I hope you all enjoy it and see you next week for one more extract.

Velocity sped into the kitchen in her dressing gown to put the coffee on. Mage was sitting at the table with a full breakfast already prepared.

“Morning!” he said cheerfully.

“Mage?! What in the name of Heaven are you doing?” she tied the belt of her dressing gown tighter, making sure she was completely covered up. “Since when do you get up this early? How did you get in here?”

“I can walk through walls when I need to.”

Velocity covered her face with her hands, it was too early in the morning to be dealing with this guy: “Why did you “need” to walk through ours first thing in the morning?”

“I need a small favour. Tiny, you could even say its infinitesimal. My new line of wholesome, healthy foodstuffs is getting its official launch today. Photographers, T.V. cameras, all that good stuff. I could use some backup. It’d be good P.R. for the team!”

Solarstorm entered the room dressed in a navy suit, a blue shirt and tie.

“This is the same “wholesome” stuff that you complained gave you Diarrhoea last month?” He asked.

“The very same. The Doctor actually said it was chronic Diarrhoea, by the way. I have a sick note.” Mage picked up a box of breakfast cereal from the table. “Check this out. It's called “Mages Choice” and it's worth a lot of money to selected charities.”

Velocity examined the box, which had a picture of Mage smiling and giving a thumbs up as he used a spoon to scoop up some cereal from a bowl.

She laughed: “Do these “charities” include the local bars, restaurants and clothes stores?”

“Oh, what’s this? I'm getting harassment from the woman who endorsed those running shoes that are made by five year olds in a sweatshop.”

“Those allegations were never proven!” Velocity retorted.

Solarstorm raised his voice to try and stop the developing argument: “We’re not interested Mage. Buying a lot of fancy food from your company won’t make people healthier or thinner, Why not just tell people to eat some fruit and vegetables and do some exercise if they want to be healthy?”

“Because” Mage said slowly, as if speaking to a child; “that’s…not…profitable. “Mage’s Choice” is more than just a food brand. The very name conjures up a lifestyle choice that means no stress and no effort, just the need to spend money on these “dried fruit crunchies” that I’m selling.”

Solarstorm sat down and poured himself a large cup of coffee.

“Very nice. Was some of that a quote from the press release?”

“Yes.”

“No deal. People are told to buy useless junk by companies all the time; we’re not getting involved in that.”

“Fine, Ok. But what about that reality show that my agent is trying to set up over at the TV network? Can't you at least sign off on that?”

“Not happening. We're private individuals. We don't like seeing our faces plastered everywhere.”

“We're the world's greatest heroes. We're going to have our faces everywhere whether we want to or not. Am I the only one who wants to make some money off of that?”

Solarstorm sighed: “We’re well looked after by the Government. Velocity and I love to do the charity work but we're not in this for the money. In fact we're thinking of stepping back from all this.”

“You're breaking up the band?!” asked Mage, surprised.

“We've been talking about it.”

A tear appeared in Mage’s eye. He fell off his chair and got down on his knees:

“Please, please do this for me! For us! For the good of humanity! Couldn’t you at least wait until my brand has established itself in the marketplace?”

“That was much better than usual, have you been practicing your grovelling technique?”

Mage began to cry: “I don’t want to die poor! I don’t want to!”

Real tears continued to streak down his cheeks as he pounded his fist on the floor and wailed.

“We're not needed Mage.” Velocity cut in, “Yesterday was the first action we've seen in six months. Our family deserves a normal life. We've been superheroes but not great parents for a long while now. It's time for us to fix that.”

Mage got to his feet and wiped the tears from his eyes: “Thanks for that rousing speech, Yoko Ono. You two are a disappointment!”

Mage strode to the door, opened it and slammed it loudly, for effect. He turned around to face Velocity and glared angrily at her for a few seconds. He finally left the apartment by passing through the wall as if it wasn’t there.

Solarstorm looked puzzled: “How is it that he can enter our apartment and make breakfast without making a sound but he always makes sure to slam the door when he’s leaving?”

“Typical Irishman.”

Solarstorm tried some of the cereal. It was terrible. He coughed most of the mouthful into a napkin and washed the remainder of the cereal down with some orange juice.

“That’s awful; I think I’ll have some toast instead.”

Solarstorm picked up a slice of bread in his right hand and pointed his left index finger at it; his finger emitted a soft orange glow, within seconds the bread started to toast.

 “Do you want to discuss what we said last night?" asked Velocity “Ryan will be up soon and we should talk to him about it”.

“I think we’re done. The super criminals are all safely locked away and the Police are well able to handle everything else, they could have dealt with that hostage situation in the Casino without our help. The Mayor didn’t need to call us in for that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been thinking the same for a while.”

 

Ryan walked into the room, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a schoolbag over his right shoulder. Solarstorm smiled at him:

“So kiddo, you ready for your first day of public school?”

Ryan nodded: He had already decided not to tell them that he had actually started yesterday. It would upset them if they realised that they had forgotten the correct date. “Got my switchblade, some notebooks, my laptop and these writing sticks.” He said, fishing in his backpack and producing some ballpoint pens.

“Pens? I remember those. Is your switchblade properly sharpened?” Solarstorm deadpanned.

“I think so; Warfare gave it to me last Christmas. He doesn’t usually give inferior sharp objects as gifts.”

Solarstorm looked across into the living room to see the display of old fashioned weaponry that Warfare had given the family over the years, Battle-Axes, Swords and even a Mace were displayed in various locked cabinets. Warfare had odd ideas about what people should receive for birthdays and Christmas, but his heart was in the right place.

“Honey, leave that at home!” said Velocity

“Mum, I don’t really have one.” said Ryan, a little exasperated, “I asked Warfare but he said I wasn’t ever going to need one.”

“He’s right; this is a public school you’re going to, not Iraq.”

“Ok, but if I come home covered in bruises…”

“Could you try to avoid that kind of thing? We’re running out of schools to send you to.”

“Tell the kids to stop picking on me just because my Dad can knock buildings over and my Mum can run faster than anyone else on the planet. Things are a lot different to when you two were in school.”

“Hey” Velocity cut in “We had it hard growing up too!”

“You had powers, I don’t.”

“You still might. You’re only fourteen.”

“I’d prefer not to get any, thanks. Am I supposed to grow up to be a super-powered accountant or something?”   

Solarstorm grabbed his car keys from the kitchen counter: “Come on, I’ll drive you to school. We still have plenty of time to ruin your life for you. You’re our responsibility until you turn eighteen.”

“Yeah, you two go on ahead” said Velocity. “This apartment is a pigsty; I’m going to clean it.”

Ryan looked around the spotless apartment;” Mum, we really need to get you a hobby. I hear that knitting is a lot of fun.”

“I already tried it. I can knit a jumper in forty seconds. Your Dad has a wardrobe full of them from when we started dating.”

“I never wear them because they’re so special.” said Solarstorm. “It’s definitely not because they’re in garish colours that make my eyes bleed.”

“We’re going to be late!” said Ryan, checking his watch.

Solarstorm smiled: “See Lisa? He gets that from you. We’ll speak to Warfare when I get back.”

“Sure, go. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

 

Ryan sat in the passenger seat of his Dad’s car as they drove through the traffic on the way to school.

“Listen Ryan. Your Mom and I are worried. Are you going to be OK in this new school? You’ve had a lot of trouble fitting in everywhere.”

“Something about having superhero parents doesn’t lead to making friends easily.”

“I can understand that. It’s difficult to make friends at all. You’d be surprised how few we have. Outside of the hero community, I mean.”

“Because you have powers?”

“That’s part of it, but it’s more like regular folks don’t really approach us as people. We’re icons, like famous actors or singers. People see the glitzy public façade but not what’s inside. The fact that we’re famous makes our relationships a bit on the superficial side. People want to be friends with you for what you can do for them. Not necessarily because of the person you are. We don’t want that for you. If there’s a chance for you to be a normal person, unaffected by all the craziness that this life brings, then we’re going to take it.”

“Which means what exactly?”

“It means we want you to study and talk to kids your own age, your best friend at the moment is a walking pile of rocks that likes to smash robots.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good, I’m not sure that I’ll be able to pick you up, you can get the school bus home if neither your mother nor I can make it. I’ve a feeling that the meeting with Warfare is going to take some time. Enjoy your day. Try to talk to some other teenagers, preferably ones who aren’t members of a gang.” 

The Party: Part Six. Everybody's Evening.

Jeremy sat up from the dust and debris strewn floor. All he had to show from his idiotic suicide attempt was a coating of white powdered plaster from the now collapsed ceiling and a handful of cobwebs in his hair.
Paul would murder him if he ever found out. He decided to vacate the room as fast as possible and act innocent. He ran across the hall to the main bathroom and began to clean the dirt off with a clothes brush. As he worked, he heard Paul pound up the stairs to find the source of the crashing noise that the falling ceiling had caused.

Paul entered his parent's bedroom and practically screamed the house down when he saw the destruction. Once Jeremy had removed every speck of dirt he joined his friend in the demolished room.
"Paul! what as that?" said Jeremy, feigning concern and ignorance.
"The roof collapsed!" exclaimed Paul, pointing to the ruined bedroom. "My parents are going to kill me."
"You didn't do anything, it just collapsed."
"They'll never believe that. They'll send me off into exile."
"We'll think of something, mate." said Jeremy, trying to re-assure his friend.
Brian came up the stairs and joined the other two.
"Hey fellas, I heard a noise, what happened?"
Paul looked at the new arrival coldly: "Who let you in?"
"Lisa."
"Well, you weren't invited."
"We brought beer."
"You can stay, I guess."
"So what happened? Spontaneous roof collapse?"
"Yeah." said Jeremy. "It looks like that."
"Insurance will cover it. Just tell your parents the truth, none of us caused it. Ring them in an hour or two, tell them you were at the cinema and came home and it was like this."
"My Dad's a solicitor, he'll know I'm lying. Besides, I was forbidden from having a party, if they know anyone was here I can say goodbye to ever being allowed outside again."
"Well then, my friend...you are screwed. Dutch Gold?" said Brian, offering his half empty can to Paul.
Paul took the can and knocked it back. It might be the last alcoholic beverage to pass his lips for some time.

"I see all the colours." said Maura. "So pretty!"
She rolled around on the carpet, trying to touch every fibre.
"You idiot. Look what you did? Since when are ecstasy tablets a treatment for headaches." said Lisa.
"I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." lied Sean.
"You're going to have to look after her. How long will those last?"
"I don't know. A few hours?"
"Christ. Could this evening get any worse?"
The doorbell rang.
"I'll get it, It's probably the GAA lads."
Lisa left the room. Maura stayed on the ground, giggling as the paracetemol went through her system. Sean wondered how it could have this effect. it must be that placebo thing he'd heard about, like when you gave someone water and told them it was vodka and they got really drunk on nothing.
The sound of a herd of elephants rampaging through the hall probably meant that the local football team had arrived in the house.
The door swung open and about half the team entered. All of them were carrying enough alcohol to destroy the hardiest of livers. They started talking about their favourite topics: themselves. Sean had never met a GAA player who didn't love himself deeply. After a minute of hearing them blather on, Sean decided that he needed another beer and left the room to go to the kitchen. Maura would be OK for a few minutes.
Sean grabbed two beers from the fully stocked fridge and returned to the living room. Maura was nowhere to be found.
Sean ran from the room and began to search the house. She must have wandered off in some faux-drug addled daze. Then Sean noticed that the front door had been left open. He dashed out into the garden.
"Maura! Where are you?" he cried.
"I'm up here!" she responded from the edge of the roof, two stories above.
"How did you get up there?"
"I floated. Whooooo!" She laughed.
"I'm going to get a ladder, don't do anything!"
"It's Ok." She said. "I can fly!"
She jumped off the roof and landed in a patch of shrubs. Sean ran over and pulled her out of the foliage. She was unharmed.
"I'm amazing! I'm the queen." Maura shouted at the sky.
"You're a fricken moron. Those were headache tablets!"
"Bullshit. I can see through time. Anadin doesn't do that to you." said Maura as she got to her feet, kicked off her shoes and ran barefoot across the grass.
Sean sighed. He was beginning to regret every wanting to stick his tongue down the throat of a woman who was so dumb.
Maura danced across the lawn for a few minutes but then lost interest and started staring at the gravel on the drive-way as if it contained the secrets of the universe. Sean grabbed her by the arm and gently pulled her back towards the house.

The footballers were getting loud and boisterous as they shouted above each other in an attempt to be heard over each other's bragging. Within seconds it had degenerated into a full on brawl. People were punched and headbutted, objects were thrown and the living room window was smashed.
Paul, Brian and Jeremy rushed downstairs as they heard the fight start. It was war. Furniture was smashed to kindling as the footballers wrestled and tried to strangle each other.
Paul waded in to the melee and tried to calm things down. He was punched in the head for his troubles and crawled back out of the chaos into the hall, clutching his face. Blood gushed out of his nose.
"What is going on in there?" asked Brian.
"Someone sold the footballers alcohol." said Paul.
"Bad call."
"We need to break that up before they destroy the house." said Jeremy. He ran off to the kitchen and grabbed the fire extinguisher that was kept in a corner near the back door.
He returned to the living room and sprayed the fighters with the foam from the extinguisher. They stopped combatting each other as they slipped and slid around the slick, foamy carpet.
"Get out of my house." said Paul.
The footballers got to their feet and sheepishly exited the building.
Paul surveyed his destroyed living room as Lisa, Maura and Sean rejoined the group. He sat down and wept in terror.  
"Paul, no offence..." said Brian. "But this party sucked."

The Party: Part Five. Maura's Bad Trip.

Sean leaned against the doorbell on Paul's house. The bell buzzed. Sean kept up the pressure until Brian was sure that the house was going to shake down to the foundations. Suddenly, Lisa opened the door!
"Lisa, baby!" said Sean, looking the girl up and down. "Nice knees! They new?"
"What are you two doing here?"
"We're here for the party! we brought gifts!" replied Sean, offering Lisa the choice of a six pack of Dutch Gold or a sharing bag of "Doritos".
"Do you seriously think we're going to let you in just because you brought cheap beer and salty snacks?"
"Of course not! I have something else inside my coat pocket. Want to see them?" Sean replied.
He handed the beer and crisps to Brian and pulled out a plastic sandwich bag from his pocket, inside were a dozen yellow pills.
"Are those...you know?"
"Sure!"
"Well, I suppose you can come in then!"
Lisa stepped back and allowed the boys to enter.
"The kitchen is down at the end of the hall. You can put your beer in the fridge."
"Cool! thanks!" said Brian.
Sean and Brian went to the kitchen.
"Dude! You have drugs?"
"Kind of. Pharmaceuticals anyway."
"Where did you get them?"
"The supermarket. They're not actually what Lisa seems to think they are. They're just paracetemol tablets dyed yellow with food dye."
"You told her..."
"No I didn't. She asked: "Are those...you know?" and I, naturally assuming she meant "paracetemol tablets dyed yellow" said "Sure!".
"You're the devil."
"Nah, just motivated to be at this party by any means. Purveying illegal highs, even fabricated ones, gets you into places. Ask Dennis Hopper."
"Who?" asked Brian.
"You need to spend your first term of college watching movies, your lack of pop cultural knowledge dismays me."

Paul surveyed his wardrobe and plotted his outfit for the evening. He had a near infinite number of rugby jerseys and t-shirts but he felt that this evening he needed to be classy! Time to break out one of his proper shirts!
He got dressed in black jeans and a red shirt. Then he slipped on a pair of black trainers.
He walked out of his room and entered his parent's bedroom across the hall. He just needed one more thing to complete his ensemble. His dad's Rolex. It was locked in a drawer on the dressing table beside the bed but Paul knew that the key was sellotaped to the headboard of the bed. Paul reached around the back of the headboard and pulled it free. He used the key on the dresser and reverentially extracted the watch. He opened the case that contained the watch and slipped it on his wrist. Paul left the room and went downstairs, practically stepping on Jeremy as he did so. Paul didn't even notice his friend, who was occupied with silently crying his broken heart out in the gloom of the unlighted hallway..

Jeremy wiped the tears from his eyes and scrambled to his feet. He'd never felt worse. Lisa had torn his soul out with her dismissive treatment of him. Well he was going to show her! He paced down the hallway to the bedrooms and entered the master bedroom. Paul's Dad would have exactly what he needed. Jeremy searched the wardrobes and doors until he found a selection of neck-ties. He took one out and wrapped it around his neck. Then he dragged an armchair which was position beside the window into the centre of the room and climbed on top of it. He tied the other end of the neck-tie to the light fixture in the ceiling and took a deep breath and jumped. It didn't work as intended. Jeremy pulled down the entire ceiling with his as he fell, clumps of plaster and wood showered the room.

Sean walked in on Maura as she lay on the couch of the living room.
"Hey Maura! How are you?"
"Heads killing me! Got into a fight."
"Oh yeah? Here..." said Sean as he took the bag of pills from his pocket. "...have one of these! They'll help."
Maura took two tablets from the bag and put them in her mouth. Sean passed her a can of Dutch Gold. She drank a mouthful and washed the pills down.
"Thanks!" she said gratefully.
"No problem." said Sean as he sat down on the couch beside her, hoping to play the white knight angle to his advantage.
Lisa entered the room and interupted his plans.
"Maura." Lisa said. "Feeling better?"
"Sean gave me some tablets to help with the headache."
"HE GAVE YOU WHAT?" shouted Lisa. "DID YOU GIVE HER SOME OF THE TABLETS FROM THE BAG?!" she roared at Sean.
"Yes...but..." Sean stopped speaking, he didn't want to tell Lisa he'd only brought in paracetemol and whatever she had told herself he had.
"Maura those were yokes!" said Lisa.
"What?
"He just gave you drugs."
Maura sat back on the couch as her mind took in the knowledge that she had ingested an illegal substance.
"I can feel something!" said Maura as she looked at her hand in awe. "My hands are massive and so colourful!" She stood up on the cushion of the couch. "I'm feckin' INVINCIBLE!!!!!!"
She rushed out of the room and battered through the doorway to escape the house.

The Party: Part Four. Lisa and Jeremy's Evening.

"Quit dabbing at the cut over your eye." said Lisa
"It needs stitches." complained Maura.
"It doesn't need stitches; it needs you to stop touching it."
Maura stopped poking ineffectively at the deep scratch on her forehead with the inundated piece of tissue paper. Laura had dug her fingernails right into her face during their brief brawl and now it was peppered with crescent shaped cuts.
The girls approached Paul's house on unsteady feet caused by a combination of too much wine and high heels.
Lisa supported Maura as they walked up the gravel driveway and reached the front door of Paul's house.
Lisa pressed the bell and it sounded. After a few seconds the door opened inwards. Jeremy was standing on the other side.
"Enter! If you dare...mwah ha ha.." Jeremy stopped suddenly, not wanting to look foolish in front of Lisa.
"Help me carry her in." Lisa said by way of greeting.
"Sure." said Jeremy, rushing to help. "What happened? Dog attack?"
"Something like that." hiccupped Maura.
"Is there a couch we can put her on?"
"Through here." said Jeremy.
He led the way through a never ending hallway to a well furnished living room that was bigger than most people's houses.
"Paul's parents own this?" asked Maura.
"No. They're squatters." answered Jeremy.
"Really?" said Maura.
"No. Paul's dad is some kind of Solicitor."
They sat Maura down on the couch.
"Can you get some first aid supplies? We need to do something about those scratches." said Lisa.
"I'll go ask Paul where that stuff is." said Jeremy as he ran out of the room.

Paul was upstairs in his bathroom, carefully shaving what little facial fluff he had. Jeremy knocked on the door.
"What's up?" said Paul.
"Dude! Lisa and Maura are here. I need first aid supplies."
"What did you do to them?"
"Nothing! Maura was attacked by a dog. I think. I need plasters and disinfectant."
Paul put down his razor and fished underneath the sink for the first aid kit. He pulled out the green plastic box and opened the bathroom door. He handed the box to Jeremy and closed the door again.
"Hey! wait!" said Jeremy. "Are you nearly finished. I can't be left alone with Lisa. I might say something stupid!"
"Two minutes and I'll be ready."
"Ok. But no more."
"Fine. Don't panic."
"I'm not panicking!" said Jeremy.
"Sure you're not."
Jeremy ran downstairs with the first aid kit.
Paul turned to his reflection in the mirror and wiped off the remaining shaving foam from his face. He put on some aftershave and sprayed deodorant across his torso and down the front of his trousers. You never knew when it may come in handy.

"I like Jeremy." said an intoxicated Maura. "He's like a puppy. So willing to please."
"I know." said Lisa.
"He's only like that with you. You know that right?"
"I noticed."
"You're not interested?"
"Of course not. God, have you seen him? If he loses a stone and takes up Rugby, I might be interested."
"So superficial."
"At least I'm not hung up on the loser who couldn't dump me fast enough."
"You shut up about my Tommy."
"He's not your Tommy anymore. He's into college girls now."
"You shut your..."
Jeremy re-entered the room at precisely that moment.
"I have the first aid box."
"Great. Patch me up." said Maura.
Jeremy knelt down on the floor and opened the kit. He quickly took a half dozen plasters from a smaller box inside and some anti-bacterial wipes. He cleaned Maura's face with the wipes and applied the plasters.
"Thanks Jeremy." Maura said when he had finished. "Leave me here to sleep a while. The others won't be here for ages yet."
"Sure thing. Do you want to go get a drink Lisa? I got some stuff in the off licence earlier."
"I suppose."
They left Maura to take a nap and headed for the Kitchen. Jeremy went straight for the fridge and took out some bottles. He handed a wine cooler to Lisa and kept a beer for his own consumption.
They opened their bottles and sipped on the drinks.
"I need to say something." said Lisa.
"What?"
"I know...I mean. There's a rumour going around that you...fancy me."
"Oh." was all Jeremy could manage to say.
"Is it true?"
Jeremy spoke slowly and cautiously: "Yeah?"
Lisa didn't speak for a second but then replied: "I'm not...I don't like you in that way."
"Huh. Why not? I'm a good guy."
"I'm sure you are but I need someone...stronger and more...full of life."
"I see...and I'm weak and basically dead?"
"No. You're just not...good...enough...for me."
Jeremy felt as if he had been punched in the stomach and face simultaneously.
"Fine." he said as he turned and exited the Kitchen.
Lisa sat down at the kitchen table and continued to drink as she thought.
There. The hard part is over at least. I think I handled that well. No drama at least.

The front door bell rang. Lisa got up and went to answer it. Sean and Brian stood outside.
Oh Great. What do these fools want?

The Party, Part Three. Lisa and Maura's afternoon.

"I have horrible hair" stated Lisa as she dragged a brush through the hay like substance that grew on the top and sides of her head.
"Shut up. It looks gorgeous!" replied Maura as she applied enough foundation to construct a garden shed.
"It's not as bad as my eyebrows, I'll admit that. I still hate it though. My eyebrows look like two slugs mating. If I could shave them off I would."
"So do it! At least you can do something about it. I have to wear trousers all the time because of my knobbly knees. I can't be seen dead in a short skirt. People would laugh."
"Pass us the bottle, will you?"
Maura did as she was told and handed over the half empty bottle of wine, stolen from her parent's stash mere hours before. Lisa took a swig. They were drinking straight from the bottle so as not to arouse suspicion when dirty glasses were found under the bed or in the sink. They'd sneak the empty bottle out later, hidden under one of their jackets.
"Who's going to Paul's this evening?" Maura asked.
"You, me, Paul, Jeremy, some of the lads from the football team."
"Sounds like a sausage festival."
"Mona and Jean are going as well."
"You mean the one who laughs like a foghorn: MO-NA, MO-NA."
"You've met her then."
"Who else?"
"Laura."
Maura spat out her drink: "That one? You know what she did to me last year?"
Lisa remembered the months of hardship that fhad ollowed the previous May: "Stole Tommy from you."
"Right. She stole my Tommy from me. She's getting her face kicked off her tonight."
"Tommy broke it off with her too, you know. As soon as he left for College he never texted her again."
"Doesn't matter. I have my pride. She's going home with a black eye."
Lisa sighed. Maura had a bit of a temper on her since her Dad left them a few years back. Being abandoned by two separate men had affected her deeply.
Maura took a gulp of wine and moved on to placing eye-shadow in its appropriate position.

An hour later, they were in an appropriate state of readiness to be seen by outsiders.Maura teetered on the brink of falling over due to her oversized stiletto heels.
"I don't know why you're wearing those." said Lisa.
"They emphasise parts of my legs that are not my knees, drawing the eye up all the way."
"That's great. Listen; leave this thing with Laura to one side. It was twelve months ago, that's like...a year ago."
Maura's voice was suddenly shrill: "So what? If she gets away with stealing my man then I’ll look weak. People will laugh."
"No one cares Maura, it's ancient history."
"I care." said Maura and left it at that.

They cut through the park to get to Paul's house. As they walked they spotted Laura and Mona sitting on the grass in the distance. They were sipping from naggins of vodka in the late evening sun. Maura shook off her high heels and scampered across the grass barefoot before Lisa could stop her. Lisa chased her but rage and alcohol had fuelled Maura's hate and legs, despite the knobbly knees.
"Laura Breslin!" Maura roared. "I'm gonna pluck every hair from your head, you'll look like an over ready chicken by the time I get ya!"
Laura heard her coming and scrambled to her feet in a decidedly unladylike fashion. She picked up an empty vodka bottle from the grass and pitched it at Maura. It flew through the air, end over end. Maura ducked and the bottle sailed over her head, nearly hitting Lisa.
Maura accelerated and dived straight at Laura, slamming into her and sending both of them flailing through the air. Maura landed on top of the heap and attempted to strangle her victim. They grappled uselessly on the ground until Mona and Lisa were able to separate them, dragging them off each other.
The two fighters struggled to escape the respective grasps of their friends, all the while screaming unintelligible hatred at each other.
Lisa tugged her friend away from the brawl towards Paul's house. It hadn't started and already this was the worst party ever.

The Party: Brian & Sean's Day

"Meet me at Enrico's in fifteen." read the text message that popped up on Brian's screen.
Brian sighed and slid off his beanbag; his legs had gone to sleep sometime during his fifth consecutive hour of Call of Duty so he just crawled across the floor to find some shoes.
As he pulled on his shoes and waited for the feeling to return to his feet he gazed around the room to find a clean t-shirt. He spotted one underneath a stack of science fiction novels and scooted along the wooden floorboards to it. He pulled it free from underneath the pile and sniffed it delicately. It smelled slightly of lynx body spray but mostly of teenager. After a second of thought Brian decided that it was acceptable for a trip to Athlone's second finest Mexican dining experience.
Brian put on the t-shirt and grabbed a bedpost for support as he stood upright. Pins and needles shot through his legs as sensation returned to his extremities.
He grabbed a jacket from its place on the chair and threw it on. A quick glance at the mirror confirmed what he already knew: He was too skinny and had bad skin. But for all that he looked passable, at least by the low, low standards set by Athlone males.

He left the house through the front door and walked around the side to fetch his bike. He pedalled through the dull but pleasant June weather towards "Enrico's Bona Fide Mexican Food".
The restaurant's name occasionally caused him some mild worry. Why would a restaurant want to proclaim it was "Bona Fide"? Was it some sort of trick? Was the food there not really Mexican at all? Did the proprietors really assume that the inhabitants of Athlone were too inbred to have never travelled to Mexico or the southern United States? Mexican menus didn't normally include Irish stew and a half dozen ways of preparing potatoes.
Brian arrived at Enrico's and chained his bike to a pole outside the main entrance. Sean, the sender of the text message, sat inside at a window booth nursing a glass of lemonade. He nodded in greeting to his friend.
Brian entered and made his way over to the booth. Sean was studying the menu like it was the secret to everlasting life.
"What are chimichangas?" asked Sean.
"If they're anything like approximately ninety percent of the menu in this place. I'm going to guess they're some mysterious mixture of meat and veggies wrapped in a tortilla. Possibly featuring cheese."
"Right. Sounds good." said Sean, satisfied with his decision.
"Why are we here? Other than to eat sufficient quantities of meat to get us through Good Friday?" responded Brian.
"Paul's having a party at his place."
"And I care, why?"
"There'll be girls there."
"True, but you know Irish girls." said Brian dismissively. "Haven't I made my feelings about them known across the land?"
"You hook up with one foreign exchange student and suddenly you're Don Juan."
"The foreign ladies are lower maintenance. They have real tans rather than plastering themselves with that bronzing muck."
"Well, can't you lower your standards for one night? I need an accomplished wingman."
"I suppose. What makes you think we'll be able to get in to the party? Paul isn't one of our friends. He thinks we're nerds."
"Jeremy is out buying drinks. I saw him up in the off licence that never checks ID. I confidently predict that they'll be passed out by nine o'clock. Leaving the field open for us to swoop in and claim our prizes."
"And if they're not passed out?"
Sean picked up his messenger bag and opened it. A hard bound book took up most of the space inside: "I guess I'll have to introduce them to the collected works of Arthur C Clarke then, won't I? A couple of slaps to the head with this and those GAA playing runts will be unconscious."
"That's your solution to everything."
"Only because it always works."
"And how exactly will you charm the girls. Arthur C Clarke won't help you there?"
"Prey on their inadequacies. Lisa Reynolds hates her eyebrows; Maura Wright thinks her knees are hideous. I tell them that I love their eyebrows and knees and I'm in.”

"You're like an evil seduction genius. What makes you think that'll work?"
"Maura has unresolved issues regarding Tommy Brennan. She's basically an emotional wreck. One small push and she'll tip over. Do you remember Tommy?"
"I remember him punching me in the face one Christmas when we were twelve or thirteen."
"Oh Yeah, Why was that?" asked Sean.
"I told him Santa didn't exist."
"He was fourteen. He should have known."
"He didn't. Aren't you worried that your single-minded pursuit of any conscious female at this party will blow back on you? We still have to live here after tonight."
"Not for long. We're both off to college in the UK and then we'll probably have to emigrate. What are the chances we'll ever have to deal with these people again?"
"Slim enough, but still..."
"There's nothing keeping me in this hole. I'll be glad to see the back of it." said Sean.
"Athlone's not that bad..." began Brian.
"This place..." interrupted Sean. "This place...I hope it fragging burns down as soon as I leave it. It's a city sized tumour. A scar on this buttock of a nation."
Brian closed his eyes, at this stage in their friendship he was used to Sean's megalomaniacal rants.
The waitress arrived and took their order. Sean got chimichangas and a diet coke. Brian ordered fajitas.
"Anyway. Are you going to be my wingman or not." said Sean, after they had asked for their food.
Brian thought for a moment. Sean would be a complete disaster if he went on his own. Someone would probably try to kill him.
"Yeah. I'll go with you." said Brian, not realising that it would be the biggest mistake he'd ever make.