Young Writers Society

Hey everyone. This is just the very first little part to my book. It's extremely small, but I would really like a review on it. Please help!
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Shoot. The bell rings, and I have to be in Mr. Kyoski’s third period math class before the hall monitors hunt me down. I pile my books in my left hand before slamming the weathered locker door shut with my right. Shifting the books from my left hand back over, I shimmy into the old, gray hoodie that’s only half way on.
I’m pretty good at multitasking.
Mr. Kyoski spends a lot of time in the bathroom before class so I’m pretty much home free if I can make it past the hall monitors. They take their job pretty seriously. My ballet flats click against the white tile as I count the doors to Mr. Kyoski’s. I slide through the opening into the chaos that I call class.
I feel for Mr. Kyoski.
Junior math classes are always the worst. For one, I’m being hit with at least three paper airplanes as I turn right down the rows of graffiti-covered desks. I can barely hear myself think over the yelling of the jocks huddled in a corner. Oh, and don’t think it gets any better during class. Someone’s always snickering about Mr. Kyoski’s Chinese accent.
I find an open desk and flip my brown, wavy hair around so I can put my books under it. It doesn’t really matter who I’m sitting by. Just like with bees, if you don’t mess with anyone, no one will mess with you. Until I look over and see I’ve snagged a seat next to Aaron. Aaron Mancini. I quickly glance through the chaos to see if there are any other seats I can slip into unnoticed, but nope, I have to sit here.
I try to avoid Aaron at all costs, because, supposedly, girls put him in the ‘perfect’ category. But no one can be perfect; not even Aaron. So I avoid him…until today. Fantastic.
I try to make it through the lesson Mr. Kyoski has planned out for us, but I can’t. My mind is off in the pool, my arms and legs pulling me through the water in all four strokes until the bell rings. I have officially four minutes to get from here to my locker and on to the other side of the school for English. I write down my homework from the whiteboard onto a piece of paper ripped from my notebook and stash it in my jeans pocket. I don’t have any time to waste.
Until I find Aaron looking up into my blue eyes from his seat.
“Hey.” He manages, “You have really pretty eyes.”
I want to say ‘thank you’, but I can’t. Because that’s not what I feel at all. Looking into his picturesque brown eyes, I only feel the envy boiling up from inside of me. So I blurt it out. Standing right there, one hand in my messenger bag, talking to Aaron Mancini.
“I always wanted to have brown eyes, even when I was little. I wanted people to look into my eyes and forget about the rest of the world. I wanted them to forget their lives, forget what had been planned out for them, and feel the warmth in my brown eyes. To love all that was there and nothing more.” I whisper.
And then I jolt back into reality and run out the door. I mean, I’m literally running. And just thinking about what happened brings a pang of embarrassment and I wince at it. Because for the very first time, I’ve talked to Aaron Mancini, someone I’ve tried to avoid all along, and I’ve embarrassed myself so much with something that could have been a two word conversation. Great Bekah, just great.
But I force myself to forget about it all so I can make it on time to English, even though the look of his eyes on mine is still there.

Hi there! First of all, I want to say that you did a pretty good job. Now, I'm not a master critique, but I do see a few things that I would like to point out.

Mr. Kyoski spends a lot of time in the bathroom before class so I’m pretty much home free if I can make it past the hall monitors.

I was a little confused when I read this. Did you mean that the narrator is free to go home? Or, did you mean that she is without a home? You should fix this sentence so that what you mean is a bit clearer.

I feel for Mr. Kyoski.

What emotion does the narrator feel? Terrible? Happy?

Junior math classes are always the worst. For one, I’m being hit with at least three paper airplanes as I turn right down the rows of graffiti-covered desks.

This line is confusing. It could be:

Junior math classes are always the worst. As soon as I step into the classroom and turn towards the graffiti-covered desks, I am hit with three paper airplanes.

I find an open desk and flip my brown, wavy hair around so I can put my books under it.

Another confusing sentence. Does the narrator put her books under her hair or desk? It isn't very clear.

. Just like with bees, if you don’t mess with anyone, no one will mess with you.

Just like with bees, if you don't mess with them, they won't mess with you.

Although, I really don't think this sentence fits the situation. Is the narrator implying that if she picks a seat next to someone and doesn't care who the person is, no one will bother her?

I try to avoid Aaron at all costs, because, supposedly, girls put him in the ‘perfect’ category. But no one can be perfect; not even Aaron. So I avoid him…until today. Fantastic.

I don't believe the word "supposedly" is needed here. So, we can remove that word.

I try to avoid Aaron at all costs because girls put him in the "perfect" category. However, no one can be perfect; not even Aaron. So, I had avoided him, until today.

“Hey.” He manages, “You have really pretty eyes.”

"Hey," he manages, "you have really pretty eyes."

I want to say ‘thank you’, but I can’t. Because that’s not what I feel at all.

I want to tell him thank you, but I can't because that's not what I feel.

Looking into his picturesque brown eyes, I only feel the envy boiling up from inside of me. So I blurt it out. Standing right there, one hand in my messenger bag, talking to Aaron Mancini.

The word "from" isn't needed here...

Looking into his picturesque brown eyes, I only feel the envy boiling up inside of me.

What does she blurt out? Thank you?

And then I jolt back into reality and run out the door. I mean, I’m literally running. And just thinking about what happened brings a pang of embarrassment and I wince at it. Because for the very first time, I’ve talked to Aaron Mancini, someone I’ve tried to avoid all along, and I’ve embarrassed myself so much with something that could have been a two word conversation. Great Bekah, just great.

We can shorten this a little.
Then I jolt back into reality, and literally run out of the door.

Just thinking about what had happened brings a pang of embarrassment, and I wince at the thought of it. For the very first time, I had talked to Aaron Mancini. He was someone I had tried to avoid all along, and I've embarrassed myself so much with something that could have been a two word conversation. Great Bekah, just great.

But I force myself to forget about it all so I can make it on time to English, even though the look of his eyes on mine is still there.

I force myself to forget about it all so that I can make it to English on time. In my mind, I can still see the look of his eyes on mine.


Okay! I've tried to review this piece to the very best of my ability. I am still a writer in budding myself, so I hope that the things I have corrected helped a little. Something else that I noticed is that you use conjunctions at the beginnings of your sentences. Conjunctions include and, or, but, yet...etc. Try to avoid using conjunctions at the beginning of a sentence. Also, think about something before you write it. Keep up the good work, and happy writing! ~HMYR.

Hi! I'm Narniafreak! I really liked this and hope to read more later.

I shimmy into the old, gray hoodie that’s only half way on

Alright, I don't think "shimmy" really works here. Instead use a different word that has the same tone of your earlier descriptions.

My ballet flats click against the white tile as

So is she really wearing ballet shoes to school? Or are they just those slip on flat shoes similar to ballet shoes? I'm confused.

as I count the doors to Mr. Kyoski’s. I slide through the opening into the chaos that I call class

Does she really need to count the doors to his classroom. I mean if she's been going to that school for a while I don't think she'd actually do that.

see I’ve snagged a seat next to Aaron

She didn't really "snag" a seat, she just took an empty one. Maybe change that word

in the ‘perfect’ category.

I don't think perfect should have apostrophes. Instead it should be in italics or have quotations marks around it. Also, why does she avoid him? Does she have this thing against people who are "perfect" or does she really like him deep down and doesn't want to admit it?

mind is off in the pool, my arms and legs pulling me through the water in all four strokes until the bell rings

Okay.. What? I'm not entirely sure what's going on and what this has to do with the story. Please clarify.

I don’t have any time to waste.
Until I find Aaron looking up into my blue eyes from his seat.

So she doesn't have time to waster until she catches him looking at her... or she doesn't really have time but she'll make time for him? I think she still doesn't have time it's just he's staring so she won't leave just yet.

I want to say ‘thank you’, but I can’t

Thank you doesn't need apostrophes around it.

I mean, I’m literally running

I think you should get rid of this line. It's a bit cliche and stuff.

Overall I really liked it and can't wait to read more. So tell me when you put more up and I can help review!=]

-Narniafreak!

Hi there, I'm Suzu! Here are my thoughts:

1.)

Shoot. The bell rings, and I have to be in Mr. Kyoski’s third period math class before the hall monitors hunt me down. I pile my books in my left hand before slamming the weathered locker door shut with my right. Shifting the books from my left hand back over, I shimmy into the old, gray hoodie that’s only half way on.

[You have a nice hook. There's a lot of action going on here so I wanted to keep reading.]

2.)

Someone’s always snickering about Mr. Kyoski’s Chinese accent.

[Kyoski sounds more Japanese because of 'Kyo' and 'ki' but (Although, it would be truly JPN as Kyosuki which could roughly mean loveday, hehe) I guess Kyoski's mother is Chinese and his father possibly Japanese...]


[Hey cjs, I'm not seeing the sci-fi angle of this but I guess it comes on later. This was an interesting read, but it feels like realistic YA, which I'm not really into. Sorry.]

Hello there! Let's take a look at this story ^^

Hey everyone. This is just the very first little part to my book. It's extremely small, but I would really like a review on it. Please help!

Don't preface your story with comments like these. It's written very clearly in the rules.
Anyway, onto the review. My comments are in italics, my grammatical corrections will be in green, and my other corrections will be in red.

Shoot. Is this really a proper way to so start off a story? I understand that your narrator is probably a teenage, but this word just seems to clash with the lyrical beauty of present-tense. You could try using darn, or even damn, as it would be more realistic for a teenager to say.

The bell rings. I have to be in Mr. Kyoski’s- We don't need to introduce the teacher right away. For that matter, do we even need to know the period? All that matters is that it's math and your MC is late to it.

third period math class before the hall monitors hunt me down.This is a little redundant, and not quite necessary at this point in the story. It's too much information that you're giving us all at once.

I pile my books in my left hand before slamming the weathered locker door shut with my right. Shifting the books from my left hand back over, I shimmy into the old, gray hoodie that’s only half way on. I’m pretty good at multitasking. Do we will really need to know this information?

Mr. Kyoski spends a lot of time in the bathroom before class-I don't think a teacher would do that, because they have to make sure they are in their room at all times in case kids need to come in and ask questions-so I’m pretty much home free if I can make it past the hall monitors.

They take their job pretty seriously. My ballet flats click Okay, before I read this part, I was under the impression that your narrator was a boy. Obviously, try to give clues so the reader isn't taken by surprise.against the white tile as I count the doors to Mr. Kyoski’s. I slide through the opening into the chaos that I call class.

I feel badfor Mr. Kyoski.
First off, you say Mr. Kyoski way too often. Also, his name somewhat reminds me of 'Mr. Miyaki' from The Karate Kid series. Find other ways for your narrator to refer to her teacher.

I find an open desk and flip my wavy brown hair around so I can put my books under it. It doesn’t really matter who I’m sitting by. Just like with bees, if you don’t mess with anyone, no one will mess with you. That philosophy stays with me-by adding the first part of the sentence, it makes it less fragmented Until I look over and see I’ve snagged a seat next to Aaron. Aaron Mancini. I quickly glance through the chaos to see if there are any other seats I can slip into unnoticed, but nope, I have to sit here.
I try to avoid Aaron at all costs, because, supposedly, girls put him in the ‘perfect’ category. But no one can be perfect; not even Aaron. So I avoid him…until today. Fantastic.
Why? Why does your narrator that about Aaron? Oh, and by the way, even if you sit next to someone, you can still avoid them. I've done it before.
I try to make it through the lesson Mr. Kyoski has planned out for us, but I can’t. My mind is off in the pool, my arms and legs pulling me through the water in all four strokes until the bell rings. I have officially four minutes to get from here to my locker and on to the other side of the school for English. I write down my homework from the whiteboard onto a piece of paper ripped from my notebook and stash it in my jeans pocket. I don’t have any time to waste.
Until I find Aaron looking up into my blue eyes from his seat.
“Hey.” He manages, “You have really pretty eyes.”
-____-
Really, I feel as if I can already tell where this is going to go.
I want to say ‘thank you’, but I can’t. Because that’s not what I feel at all. Looking into his picturesque brown eyes, I only feel the envy boiling up from inside of me. So I blurt it out. Standing right there, one hand in my messenger bag, talking to Aaron Mancini.
“I always wanted to have brown eyes, even when I was little. I wanted people to look into my eyes and forget about the rest of the world. I wanted them to forget their lives, forget what had been planned out for them, and feel the warmth in my brown eyes. To love all that was there and nothing more.” I whisper.
And then I jolt back into reality and run out the door. I mean, I’m literally running. And just thinking about what happened brings a pang of embarrassment and I wince at it. Because for the very first time, I’ve talked to Aaron Mancini, someone I’ve tried to avoid all along, and I’ve embarrassed myself so much with something that could have been a two word conversation. Great Bekah, just great.
But I force myself to forget about it all so I can make it on time to English, even though the look of his eyes on mine is still there.

Overall
This story was just okay. However, I don't really understand where your plot is going, and I don't even know why it's in science fiction. Is Aaron an alien? Try adding clues (forshadowing)that will keep the reader interested.
Also, I don't like your main character. She seems pretty shallow, if all she cares about is eyes.

That's all.
PM if you have questions.

Good story, keep it up, although I couldnt understand two things.

'I feel for Mr Kyoski', do you feel bad or sad? You said that girls classify Aaron as 'Perfect', then why did the narrator not want to sit with him?

Overall the story was pretty good, you described the scene well, your emotions were good too.

Nice job