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Published by charles_fisher_12

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Published by: charles_fisher_12 on Jun 15, 2011
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02/15/2013

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Chapter OneLogan skims through casting calls on the web, going back and forth tediously looking for a role that would match him: 16 year old Biracial (black & white) boy,5’8”, 135 lbs. He types in numerous search requests:Casting call biracial teen boy.Casting call teen boy.Casting call teen.Casting call.Casting.He starts to feel helpless until he comes across a role. Light skinned African American teen boy for feature film. Close enough. He disregards the whole race thing and becomes excited; this would be his big break, he would be something. Hereads the character breakdown:A teenage boy (15-17), Light skinned African American; a young and anxious kid that
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s all swagger and full of energy. Naive but wiser than his age expects, he maintains a confident persona (his girlfriend is his 33 year old science teacher)but is still very much venerable in foreign territory, the character does joina gang and raps. While the skill isn
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t necessary, it is important to keep in mind that this character is a prolific beat-boxer.The film sounds coming of age, its indie, and this interests Logan. He reads thepassage over and over again, his mind races with thoughts of fame, a worry freelife. Freedom is the only thing that stands out, freedom from poverty, freedomfrom the scum that keeps surrounding his life. He closes his eyes and imagines that free life, he can
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t help but smile. Beautiful people dance around in his thoughts. Logan
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s mom is one of those dancers, her hair is long, her cheeks blossoming with heavy warm pinks and her lips are red. She is happy. In the midst of all of the fantasy, reality bleeds through. What are the chances that the good life will come, what makes him the exception? He opens his eyes and analyzes the role again. African American, something he’s only half of. He looks at the words African American and in his head he sees Will Smith, Samuel L. Jackson, Denzel Washington. He combs his hair with his fingers, his straight, semi wavy, hair. No African American has straight hair like his. He’s biracial, they are casting an African American, he knows this, and he hates it, he hates himself. Logan bookmarksthe site and walks down the hallway and turns into the bathroom. He leans into the mirror and examines his too familiar face. He’s more yellow than brown. He could pass as an Egyptian but not an African American. He flares his nostrils and slumps forward, someone walks down the hallway, he
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s startled and too scared to becriticized for performing such non-sensical rituals and so he shuts the door and goes back to being something he’s not, well not 100%. After moments of posing, rubbing grease in his hair and trying to see which side of his face looked darkerhe started to realize that its not just the way that you look that makes you stereotypically black, and thats what they
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re asking for, a stereotypically blackteenager, its not just looks it’s the way you walk and talk, the music you like, the things that you do in general. He’s so far from this character, but the fame, the rise, the way out. He needs this. As he stares into his own hazel eyes someone starts banging on the door, “Hurry the hell up!” Logan flushes the toilet to savehimself from an argument. “What the hell are you doing.” He fumbles and trips putting away hair grease, in one instance he decides to lift up the toilet seat to really make it seem as though he was using the restroom but then seconds himself and puts the seat back down realizing that that little action could only piss heroff more. He pulls open the door and flinches but she blurs right past him, he gets the glimpse of a syringe as she slams the door shut. He stands still for a moment but then goes on to his room and throws himself across his bed. Logan’s moth
 
er is an addict and has been for five years now, nothing started the addiction but her weaknesses and an ex. She just decided to start the drugs after the birthof her last child because her boyfriend at the time offered it to her. Logan has, in a way, grown use to it, though he opposes it, there is nothing he can possibly do to stop her from using. She uses about twice a week if she has the money. Shes not even mom anymore. To many people her addiction would be a hard ball but Logan takes it as one more obstacle to build him up, to get out. Closes his eyes once more and makes a list. To get this role he would have to act the part.A genuine gangster. There are people that go to his school, he recalls, that actthe part. The type that he has never hung around, the bad kids that teachers only like for their sense of humor. Its like studying for a test or writing a report, gaining enough knowledge on a subject to explain it and summarize. He wouldbefriend the gangsters, it really sounds funny to him though. He imagines himself as a gangster, a thug, sagging, smoking, drinking, and shooting. This thoughtleads to the thought of his Academy Award, he can see it, he comes up with a speech, thanks the world and walks off the stage full of the happiness that only dreams can grant you. He wakes up the next morning for school, gets his clothes together, and as he’s doing this he looks for attire that would help him get into the gang. He digs and digs through clothes, then goes to his step dad’s closet and grabs a pair of pants, being that they are a size to big. He gets dressed grabs his back pack and goes to the living room where his mom is asleep on the couch. For moments he just stares at her, judging her as he would a stranger instead ofas his mother. Time passes and he walks outside down a hill and to his bus stopwith his sagging pants, tripping and falling, trying to keep them up but not toofar up because this would defeat the purpose. When he makes it down the hill hejust stands alone but remotely near the gangster clique listening in on their conversation. They talk about sex, marijuana, and fighting. One boy starts rapping while another beat-boxes, the others just gasp and laugh in amazement at the words that come out of the rappers mouth. Logan is amazed too, that this guy canrhyme about meaningful and not so meaningful topics, he improvises. While this rap session goes on he starts to examine their outfits. Most of the boys are wearing extra large jerseys of different basketball teams and baggy pants only someof them are sagging like him but none of them have to pull at their pants everyfive seconds. The bus comes and they all start heading inside of it. He followsbehind them and studies the way that they walk, it like waddling but smoother. He finds a seat close to them and lays his head against the glass, looking outside, eavesdropping on the group. The whole ride they laugh and joke about the sametopics from before. “That nigga Teezy was all up on my brother man, beat the shitoutta his little ass. Ima get him. Ima get his ugly ass.”, the others got excited. “You know I’d come beat his ass. You know me, remember what I did to that one fatass nigga, honey bun eatin’ ass, I got him good.” one girl made a comment that lightened things up,” You got lucky, his ass didn’t want no damn French fries that day.” everyone laughed. Logan had never fought a day in is life. He could only imagine being in something so useless and barbaric. Logan never argued and barely fought,when he did fight he used his words which were by no means threatening. He continued to look outside, watching the power lines animate themselves until the buscame to its last stop and he had to get out. He waited until everyone else gotoff and then he held his pants as high as possible and proceeded off as well. “Aren’t your pants a little too big hun?” The bus driver giggled and Logan kept waddlingon after the gangsters. No one really paid any attention to him and his new style but the few looks that were directed at him he caught and they were slowly breaking him, making him so paranoid that the world was watching him. He just stuck through it, imagining himself as a gangster beating the shit out of these so called haters. When inside the school some guys walked up to him. “Sexy pants dawg,really nice.” he didn’t say anything. The two older white boys followed him makingcomments, he held on to his pants tighter and tighter terrified that one of themmight try and pull them down, “Don’t trip.” One boy ran in front of Logan and knelt down, Logan stopped then the other boy shoved him forward and over the kneeling boy to the floor. The boys laughed as did everyone else in the hallway. Logan laid there on the floor, his hands still tightly clinching his pants. “Oh shit, he’s fr
 
ozen.” they laughed louder. “He’s hiding his boner dude.” the laughter became overwhelming. Logan shut down, shut his eyes and just shut his whole body off. No one cared it seemed, no one would help him. Not one teacher was in site. Not one extension of authority. “What the hell, you dumb asses,” a girl came charging down the hall, “What the hell is this?” She pushed the crowd about until she made it to him. Sheknelt down, “You are one sick shit, you know that? All of you!” The crowd started toclear up. “Who did this?”, no one answered, “Nina Ramirez, I swear to Christ I will tell your mom you missed your period if you don’t tell me who did this shit.” Nina looked amazed and confused. “How--- well, Terence pushed him and some other boy helped, please don’t tell her, she’ll ship me off.” The girl put her hand on Logan’s face asshe looked up at Terrence who was standing alone. “ Where’s your fuck buddy Terry?” She stood up. “Its Terrence.” The girl laughed in amusement. “Its Terry cause I know guys like you, Terry. You get off on sites like these,” pointing at Logan in fetal position, “You’re a little pile of shit, a pile of sticks, a dick smoking fag.” He turned and faced the wall, “ Why don’t you fuck with someone else Tori,” his voice becamequiet. “You bitch.” The girl, now Tori, leaned forward, and parted her lips revealing clinched teeth, “I’m done talking.” she turned around and walked slowly in the opposite direction. As soon as Terrence let his guard down Tori came strutting angrily back at him, grabbed his shoulders and kicked him in his junk at least three times. He fell to the ground sweating. With her hands still on his shoulders sheknelt down and said “ Isn’t that what you wanted? A sex change?” The hallways are cleared now of the excited on lookers. Terrence, Terry, holds himself and spits. A teacher comes out of the classroom in search of disturbances and clothing short enough to report. Instead she sees an unconscious boy laying face down, a girl combing his hair back with her fingers, and another boy holding his crotch with both hands whimpering. “What happened?” The silence brought frustration over the smallold woman. “Tell me now! What is the meaning of this?” Tori stood up. “This boy has been out cold for ten minutes now. You need to call someone.” The old woman’s face became tight and clammy. “Okay.” she said and with no hesitation she ran into her classroom to phone an ambulance. Tori walked over to Terrence. “Assault charges, that’swhat you have coming you dumb asshole.” He didn’t say anything, just turned his headaway from her sharp stare. The teacher walked back out, “What is his name, the boy?” Tori shook her head. “No clue.” The woman nodded, “Okay, they said not to move him,it could break his neck. Does he have a pulse.” The woman felt her own face, her skin. She couldn’t believe how calm she was. Tori walked back to Logan and put herindex and middle finger on his neck just above his collar bone. The rhythm was inconsistent. “Its, I don’t know.”, she paused then began, “bumba bumba babum bum babum bumba…” The woman repeats it on the phone. “She said its like bumba bumba babum bum… offbeat, yes.” Tori leans in to hear him breath. He does. He takes deep, full breaths. She listens closer. When all of a sudden he begins to cough. She jumps back, her hands on her chest her legs shaking. “Holy shit!” She takes deep, full breaths. Terence and the teacher both look in shock as Logan choked on air. Tori crawled over to him and patted his back. The teacher, “Do you need a doctor?” Logan lifted his head and looked up at Tori, “Hey.” He was barely conscious, laying on his stomach,his arms his leverage and a wide burn across his forehead. On the ambulance Tori came along as a witness. She filled out a statement while Logan laid on a stretcher squinting to see her face. After only moments of him peeking and then quickly shutting his eyes she began to notice and behind the papers she said, “What’s your name?” He slowly opened one eye and then the other, smiling. “Logan, you saw me.” She peered from behind the papers, “I see everything.” , Logan smiled then looked away, “What grade are you in?” she put the papers on her lap. “I’m 16.” She pursed her lips.16.” She smiled, “I know.” Logan looked confused. “Everyone thinks I’m older, like at least 17, the way I act. You’re pretty.” Tori shook her head as she opened a bottle ofwater for a swig, “They said you hit your head pretty hard.” He rubbed the burn in pain, “Yeah, it hurts. Why are you here?” She gestured at the papers, “I have to fill out a statement, two, one for the school and one for the police.” Logan attempted to reach for his phone but nothing was there, his pants were off. “Where are my pants?” Tori looked over at his Thunder Cat briefs and giggled. “They were falling offwhen they tried to get you on the stretcher so they just took them off of you,” she pointed to the pants hanging on a hook, “no one took them.” He turned away from he

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