Young Writers Society

I remember the first time I saw her. She'd just moved in- a vision in baggy jeans and black nail polish, which glinted in the hot July sun. Her father, known to we local teens as "the cool dude with the Harley at number 47", was in the garden, digging weeds from a rockery, and she was raking soil in a planting bed. On her wrist was a rainbow-coloured sweatband, and around her neck was a metal dog-tag. I was watching from across the road, on the grass of my own lawn, where I was fixing my skateboard. It had had a run-in with the local tough-guy; Billy Marshall, who hated kids like me. He called us "queer pricks." Everyone else referred to us as "the skaters."

I picked up the last urethane wheel which lay beside me, and screwed it into place. The sun was hot today- made me want to take of my shirt, but I refrained, as I was certain she would start laughing at my muscle-deprived chest, or my ivory-like skin; or both. I was used to it, but she was really good-looking, and I didn't want her first impression of me to be a pale skinny guy. I wanted her to like me.

After a few tests on our concrete driveway, I deemed my board safe and decided to ever-so-casually cruise past her house, in the hopes that a conversation may strike up. I was as surprised as the next guy when it did.

"Nice board." I looked around and there she was, even prettier close up. Her arms were pretty white, which reassured me a little. I loosened up a little, and smiled at her.

"Thanks. You new around here?" I sounded confident, which was weird for me.

"Yeah, moved from Texas."

"You don't have much of an accent."

She laughed,"I'm from Philly originally, but we moved to Texas when I was seven, then my dad's company needed somebody to base in the Michigan branch, so here we are."

"Cool- bummer about leaving your friends though. Know anybody around here?"

"No, actually."

"Well, let's get you started.. uh..."

"Kirsten. Kirsten Morris, and you?"

"Zach Reid. Well, now you know one person."

She laughed again; secretly I was ecstatic. I liked this girl, she seemed to like me. This was like the best thing that had ever happened.

"Well, Zach, let me ask you- what's there to do in this place?"

"Hmm, well there's a coffee house where some guy you've known for two and a half minutes is willing to take you to, but he's afraid to ask- he's a bit of a chicken, really."

"Well, tell him he can pick me up at seven, and my curfew remains to be decided by father dear." She smiled wide, showing off white teeth. She was amazing. I nodded.

"I'll let him know. See ya around."

"See you."

And then, she went back to raking, and I went back home. I called the guys- Tucker, Seth, and Carrson, and made sure they'd be at the coffee house a little after seven, so I would have back up. Carrson had a girlfriend- Mallory, so if our date was a bomb, Kirsten would have someone to talk to, and if not, Carrson would have something to keep him occupied. Seth's girlfriend, Cady, was on vacation in Florida, and Tucker was single, after his girlfriend Louise dumped him for Billy Marshall only to get dumped herself. He was a little messed up at first, but he was okay now. The only thing is, Kirsten was his type of girl. Thankfully, he was my best friend, so he'd know immediately that I liked her, and would back off. I was kind of excited about Kirsten meeting my friends- they'd love her.

The hour and a half that lay in front of seven pm went by quite quickly. When I got in, I had a shower, then spent about 30 minutes deciding what to wear. Baggy jeans- they were a cert, but the shirts I had didn't exactly scream "first date". I'd only been on, like, three first dates, two of which were also last ones. The first was with Louise, who I didn't like because, frankly, she was a total poser. Bought a hoodie to seem like a skater, dated a skater, all to prove to Tucker that she was his kind of girl, and the poor guy fell for it. The second relationship was.. wonderful. I loved her, and I thought she loved me, but I guess I was wrong. She broke my heart, and my friends tried to fix it by setting me up on a date with Mallory, who basically said yes, but we just didn't click. She asked Carrson out the next week- they've been together two months. That's how long I've gone without going on a date, but I've not met a new girl in about seven months. There's not many I don't know- I'm liked by most; I'm the boy-next-door type, the one who everyone knows. It has it's ups, like having almost everyone in the school know your name, but it also has it's downs, like being pounded on by Billy in gym class, which is two friggin' times a week.

I went with a t-shirt, black baggy jeans and black DC's, and I felt... good. I thought I looked okay for once, so again my confidence pretty much soared. I decided not to bring my board- she didn't say anything about having one, so I didn't want to make her... well I don't know if she'd be uncomfortable, I didn't know if she'd be bothered, but i knew if i didn't bring my board and my girl did, I wouldn't really like it. Maybe that's just me, but maybe not.

I felt confident until I placed my foot on the top step, then my stomcah started to have buttrflies, and not just regular ones- psychotic ones in little straightjackets who enjoyed bouncing off the walls of my gut. I gulped, and rung the doorbell, then stood down on the second step. I always did that- it had become a habit of mine. It seemed, respectful, I guess. I waited for a few seconds, and then her dad opened the door.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

"Uh, yeah, I'm here for Kirsten, Mr.Morris, uh, sir." The guy smiled, to my relief.

"Ah, right. Wait there. He walked over to the stairs, which were in front of the door. There weren't many boxes lying around, so they must have either sold a lot of furniture or got it shipped over here- the place looked pretty lived-in already. He shouted for Kirsten and turned to me.

"She'll be down in a minute. Would you like to come in?"

"It's okay, I'll wait out here. Thanks." He smiled.

"Suit yourself. See you around, kid." He walked through into the other room. So laid back- his daughter was going on a date and I'm not sure he even knew my name. Did that mean she didn't think it was a date? Did I get dressed up for nothing? I got a little worried, until I saw her come down the stairs; she'd changed her clothes, and at that moment, all my worries melted away and I went back to enjoying looking at the gorgeous skater girl who stood before me.

[this is my first attempt at writing from the viewpoint of a guy- how am i doing? i know this seems cutesie but i have a pretty seriousplot ahead of me. i need comments- especially from men- dudes, get in here!]

I really liked this piece. I kept wanting to get to the end. In the good way, of course. I was disappointed when the end didn't get to the date.

I think you got the guy mentality pretty well. Of course guys are slobs and would describe her breasts, too, but, that's okay. Just one thing. I don't think a guy these days would say "cute," particularly one who skates. "Hot," "beautiful," "gorgeous," maybe. They'd all work.

The butterfly metaphor was great. It was cool how you took a hackneyed old saying and twisted it into an interesting description.

Okay, so if you don't finish this story, I'll kill you. Bye!

thanks! I'll take the "cute" out of there, and put in "hot" or something. I'm writing about the date just now- i'll keep you posted

I'm not a guy, but, in terms of the writing in general, I really liked it! Your description was good, I didn't feel like you were 'telling' rather than 'showing'; the only mistakes I found were a few missing quotation marks and other grammatical mistakes, but I'm sure you'll figure those out, so I won't mention them. It keeps me interested, and I definitely want to read more.

I'm not a guy, either, but I think this was very well worded. The subject matter was a little boring to me, personally, but I suppose not many pieces get interesitng real fast. There were a few mistakes, here's one I caught that specifically annoyed me:

It has it's ups, like having almost everyone in the school know your name, but it also has it's downs

It should be: It has its ups...but it also has its downs.

That's just me being an English fanatic.

Also, whenever you have quotations " " the punctuation mark should go before the closing quotation mark.

"queer pricks". Everyone else referred to us as "the skaters".

It should be "queer pricks." and "the skaters." See?

But like I said before, I thought this was very well worded. A lot of teen writers have problems with making fiction flow, but you didn't. Even though I'm not a fan of direct description (She was wearing a bright lime green vest top, with a white one underneath. On her wrist was a rainbow-coloured sweatband, and around her neck was a metal dog-tag."), you did it well and I was not annoyed by it. This is huge. I'm nearly always annoyed by direct description.

Good job. I hope to read some more of your work around here. I'm suprised I haven't already done so.

-Sarah

Wow- thanks! I totally get the punctuation thing- I'll change it. One thing; Sarah, you said "This is huge." What do ya mean?

I liked it a lot. You've got a lot of talent for a youngster

The only thing I think hindered your story was the description of clothing. Most guys wouldn't care about clothes that much and I doubt he'd notice or care if she changed.

Other than that, you've got the guy mentality down. Good job.

YAY!!!!

Okay...I've got to actually critique something now...

First of all, 'Phillie' is 'Philly'...

'I went with a grey long-sleeved shirt with a deep red one over the top, blue baggy jeans and black and red etnies. I did my hair with a little wax- it's shaggy so it's all I can really do with it- and I felt... good. I thought I looked okay for once, so again my confidence soared.'

Harlz, you need a lesson in American Sk8ter style...*teehee*

Long sleeved shirt...not gonna work. The guys at my school don't care if it's 50 below, they WILL wear their coveted Elements t-shirt, no matter what their mother says. They WILL find a way.

Baggy goes without saying.

Etnies are okay, but considered more 'poser' than sk8ter. If you actually do skate, they must, like you have, have some black in 'em. DC's, Circas, *think think*...Adios, and now...scarily becoming skater...are Converses. (very rare though, wouldn't count on it.)

Wax- not cool. The shaggier, the better. Lank and long is good, without being disgusting, uncool ponytail long. Blonde highlights optional.

-Agrees with Sam-
The descriptions of clothing seemed more like something a poser would wear as opposed to a skater. Maybe the style varies depending on which section of the country you live in, who knows. Personally, I thought the descriptions of clothing detracted from the story. It seemed almost as if the narrator was forcing his 'punk skateboarding' scene down my throat in the form of clothing. Visual details should come naturally. And leaving something to the imagination isn't always a bad thing.

The actual thoughts of Zach were pretty good and seemingly realistic. I loved the whole butterfly bit too.

One thing I would change is this portion of the dialogue:

"Yeah, moved from Texas."

"You don't have much of an accent." She laughed.

"I'm from Phillie originally, but we moved to Texas when I was seven, then my dad's company needed somebody to base in the Michigan branch, so here we are," she explained.

"Cool- bummer about leaving your friends though. Know anybody around here?"

"No, actually."

I got a little confused with the placement of "She laughed" because attatching it onto the end of Zach's sentence makes it seem like Kirsten said it. Since you did not leave much detail surrounding the dialogue, you might want to move the bolded part down to before where the girl starts speaking so not to cause confusion.

Anyway, nice job. I look forward to seeing more of this.

tortured_artboy wrote:I liked it a lot. You've got a lot of talent for a youngster

The only thing I think hindered your story was the description of clothing. Most guys wouldn't care about clothes that much and I doubt he'd notice or care if she changed.

Other than that, you've got the guy mentality down. Good job.

Yeah, see? Guys-are-slobs!

thanks guys!

lol the british sk8er is pretty different to the us one... either that or i know muchachos posers

in america, are airwalks sk8er?

~update~

We walked to the coffee house, talking about music and stuff. She was a drummer- only for the past couple of months, but she was enjoying it. We walked in, and the guys were all there, hanging out at the big table next to the window. Kirsten and I sat on the window-sill; the manager didn't mind- he was pretty swamped.

"Kirsten, this is Seth, Tucker, and Carrson." Mallory wasn't there, she had no girl friends.

"Hey, guys." She said. They said hi, and were about to start talking, when I butted in.

"We're gonna get something to drink- be back in a minute." She followed me to the queue, showing no sign of whether or not she was bothered about me practically dragging her away form the guys.

"I'm so sorry," I began

"For what?"

"The guys- there's no girl there, I mean, there was meant to be Mallory, but I don't know where she's gone--"

"Don't sweat it,” she interrupted, her eyes sparkling as the lights from the stage hit them, "I'm here because you're showing me around, remember? And besides, I get along better with guys. I didn't have a close girl-friend until I was 11." I breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled at her.

"Okay, cool. Tell me what you want and you can go back to the guys. My treat." She smiled again. She smiled a lot, but, to be honest, it was never tiring; I could never get bored of it.

She gave me her drink, a Strawnana smoothie, and I ordered it while she went to sit with the guys. When I sat back down, the conversation was thick and flowing, like they'd known each other for years, except with more questions. I was having s blast, everyone was, really. I felt great; I was totally smiling and everything, like the Cheshire Cat on ecstasy.

The chatter died suddenly, as one of the dudes who manned the coffee machines announced a band, which went by the name “Backseat Rebels.” Kirsten commented on how much she liked the name, and I watched as she gently nodded her head to the music. Some couples got up to dance- preps, Goths, sk8ers alike. I kinda wanted to ask her to dance, but I was scared of embarrassing myself- either she’d say no, or say yes and I’d actually have to get up and do it. I don’t dance.

It was the weirdest thing when she asked me; everything was going perfect for once. It wasn’t dancing; it was standing with style- to the beat of the music. I had to go to the bathroom, so said I’d be right back. She smiled (again), nodded, and leaned back on the stage steps.

When I got back, I looked for her. The music was now a slow song and I wanted to dance with her real bad. She wasn’t on the steps, or sitting with the guys. Had she gone to the bathroom? I walked over to the gang- which now included Mallory, and asked Seth and Tucker where Kirsten had gotten to (Carrson being occupied by a rather intense game of tonsil hockey) and they frowned at each other, before nodding at the dance floor. Kirsten was there; she was still smiling, and so was Billy Marshall, who had his arms around her.

You need the use the words 'fit' and 'fine' at some point (in fact, they're the two most commonly used compliments of looks... mainly cos 'beautiful' sounds cheesy and 'pretty' sounds odd). Other then that, it does sound like a boy (more or less) .

I'm not sure they use the word "fit" in America the same way we do, and I've never heard a non-us person say "fine" cool words though- thanks

Fine is good. We use that a lot.