The Zipper of Your Pants

Lies are like a zipper; Made to hold things together, but under strain, hard to keep up.
I sighed and touched the fly of my dark jeans, self-consciously checking it hadn’t pulled open again. It was done up tight. Good.
I glanced around, hoping no-one had seen. My eyes landed on Sara, her dark eyes watching me in amusement. “Nervous?”
Damn. She had seen.
I glared and mumbled, intentionally misunderstanding her. “These jeans are tighter then I remembered.”
Sara laughed, ignoring my weak attempt at a dodge. “You knew it would catch up to you.”
I glowered, only to watch her grin grow wider.
“Don’t look too happy about it.”
“You know I love to watch you squirm.”
“Cow.”
“Hey, I warned you.”
I ignored her, attempting a smile at the woman behind the counter as I dumped a pile of junk in front of her. Judging by her expression, I failed miserably. Her frown deepened as her gaze fell on the pile of candy bars, chips, bags of lollies and fizzy drink. Giving me a disapproving glare she started to scan each item, dropping them into a white plastic bag.
I watched her work without seeing, chewing my lip nervously. What could I do? They were going to kill me. No, rephrase that. They were going to lecture me until my ears bled, skin me alive, then kill me.
Maybe I could hold the zipper up a little longer….
“Huh?” I blinked at the woman.
“I said, cash or Eftpos?”
“Oh, sorry…” I fished my wallet out of my jacket pocket. Flipping it open, I pulled out my card and handed it over, smiling apologetically.
She stared at me blankly and swiped my card, and I wondered how many girls like me she had served. I suppose she thought she had got us all worked out, and was unimpressed by what she saw in today’s youth. I didn’t blame her.

“Have a nice day.” Her words were hollow and monotone, simply a phrase she muttered hundreds of times a day. I grabbed my bag of comfort and shoved my wallet back in my jacket, leaving the store quickly. Sara followed, her lips twisted in an amused and self righteous smile. She could be such a cow, but what was worse, she was usually right. And she knew it.

She had warned me that lying to my parents was a bad idea, no matter how much I hated school. And here I was, avoiding going home and explaining why I had been picked up by the cops after skipping three days of school straight.
They wouldn’t understand. I didn’t belong there.
“Hey, you gonna give me one of those chocolate bars or what?”
Pulled out of my thoughts, I opened the bag, fishing out two chocolate bars and glaring at my friend. I was tempted to eat both of them, right in front of her, just to wind her up, but thought better of it.
“You want a chocolate bar?”
“Yeah. Gives it.”
“You going to stop being an arrogant bitch?”
Sara stared at me, her eyebrows raised slightly. “You know that’s not possible.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, passing her the chocolate bar as we walked down the street. We walked in silence, Sara no doubt immersed in her food. People walked past, some eying me suspiciously. For some reason, if I wear my torn jeans, faded work boots and denim jacket over an old t-shirt, people treat me with a lot less respect then if I wore my sandals and my good jeans, or a skirt.
I guess people can only judge by what we let them see.

We passed shop after shop, the scent of coffee mixing with heady incense and the oily smell of fried food in a sickly mess. Teenagers, some from my class, sat outside a café, annoying everyone with their high-pitched giggles and lewd comments at passers by. One of them, a girl in a clingy, low-cut white top spotted me and nudged the others.
The looks on their faces was enough to make me snarl, my lips curling in annoyance. I knew I wasn’t terribly good looking, my long straight black hair was limp rather then sleek, my pale skin sallow rather then creamy, my frame skinny rather then slim. I thought maybe I should just go gothic- maybe then I would fit in, but I don’t like make up, let alone piles of dark eyeliner. Plus these days being gothic is an art form- you need just the right clothes and just the right attitude. It wasn’t enough to be pale and dark-haired anymore.

Sara leered at them, pulling the fingers as we passed. She wasn’t stunning, either, she was unique. Her hair was short and dark, sticking out at odd angles that couldn’t seemed to be tamed. Her face was finely structured, almost pixie-like, but she piled on the oddest make up and designs you couldn’t see anything else. Today she had drawn a vine creeping along her cheek up to her temple, thorns drawn dramatically in eyeliner. Her hair was streaked with bright green hair mascara, and her top was a luminous shade of green to match.
You could see her from the other end of the street, I can tell you.

Sara turned away from the group of teenagers. “They are such freaks. You shouldn’t let them get to you, Rachel.”
I sighed. “You don’t get it.” And I knew she didn’t. She was strange, but she did it with style. Everyone knew she could fit in if she wanted, which made her independence that much cooler. I was just plain different.

As we turned into the suburb area, my mind turned back to my parents. Fear gnawed at my stomach, a thousand snakes writhing and vying for attention.
Sara saw my expression and clapped me on the back. “You’ll be fine, you’ll see.”
“Yeah, sure.” My voice sounded doubtful, even to me.
“Hey, worse comes to worst, you can come hang at my place.”
I tried to smile. “Thanks.” That’s one thing you could always count on. Sara could curse you to a gruesome and horrifically imaginative death and spit in your eye in the process one second, but be right there when you needed her the next. Being her friend was like courting a mountain lion; she was cute and cuddly and protective right up to the instant where she tore your face off.

We walked in silence, and I savored my last minutes of freedom. The air was crisp and cool, and the fading sky didn't care how different, or defiant, I really was. It just kept on growing darker, uncaring if I was there to watch it or not, and whether I saw it as the freak I was or the most popular girl in school.
Eventually, my gate loomed all to close. Sara muttered some extra comfort, taking the last of the drink and the chips. I waved bye, stepping through the gate and staring at the house. I could lie again, say I was...
I was...
my mind went blank. There was nothing for it but the truth.
I sighed, pausing at the front door, absently checking my fly again.
Time to let the zipper drop.

Hmmmm are you carrying on with this? Was a bit disappointed with the lack of information given about why Rachel was in trouble...I also was unsure about her friendship with Sara...she ddn't seem to have any redeeming features that explained their friendship and this bothered me...why are they friends?

The opening line was profound yet quite humourous which I liked....

I'd work on your characterisation...if you want a hand feel free to PM me

You know i like all your stuff. No different here.

And here I was, avoiding going home and explaining why I had been picked up by the cops after skipping three days of school straight.

But this bit. Do you actually get picked up by cops just for skipping school?? I've never seen it happen before, and I know people who've skipped more than three days at a time. But maybe there's more to it than just skipping classes going on here?
Love the opening line. When you txt that to me, i was like WTF. But it makes more sense now.
Carry on?

I think it's pretty good. Not excellently brilliant, but pretty good. The concept is pretty good, and the characters are interesting, you're certainly gaining in those areas. Also your prose and descriptions are improving as well.

Being her friend was like courting a mountain lion; she was cute and cuddly and protective right up to the instant where she tore your face off.

Awesome simile. It's original and different, nice!!

Today she had drawn a vine creeping along her cheek up to her temple, thorns drawn dramatically in eyeliner.

I like this girl, she's awesome!

Plus these days being gothic is an art form- you need just the right clothes and just the right attitude. It wasn’t enough to be pale and dark-haired anymore.

So true, especially with the immergence of Emos and other types of the original style...sigh...don't you love stereo-types?

I guess people can only judge by what we let them see.

i'm not sure if this works, it doesn't show properly whether she's emphasising the can or the only. At the moment it looks like it's the only, but i'm not sure if that's what you were aiming for. Try rephrasing it, or putting italics to emphasise.

Overall I like it, and I absolutely love Sara, she's almost more thought out than the main charater though, so watch that. It's not too bad at this early stage, but if you continue it (which I hope you do) dont' let it happen. This is made more obvious when we don't know the main character's name for so long. Identification changes the view so dramatically, and being able to put a name on a character means that we think we understand her better.

It's not perfect, but there aren't many things that need improving at all.

Hey Nutty!!
As always i loved it!
But one little thing..why did "she" get taken home by the cops?
Maybe it's just me that got a little confused right there..oh well. Awesome job!
~M

Hello Chey.

Sara laughed, ignoring my weak attempt at a dodge. “You knew it would catch up to you.”

Be specific. What kind of "dodge" are you referring to?

“Don’t look too happy about it.”

“You know I love to watch you squirm.”

“Cow.”

I think name tags would work well here. It's confusing as to who's speaking.

She stared at me blankly and swiped my card, and I wondered how many girls like me she had served.

I had the impression that the narrator was a male up to this point.

I suppose she thought she had got us all worked out, and was unimpressed by what she saw in today’s youth. I didn’t blame her.

Such as?

I knew I wasn’t terribly good looking, my long straight black hair was limp rather then sleek, my pale skin sallow rather then creamy, my frame skinny rather then slim. I thought maybe I should just go gothic- maybe then I would fit in, but I don’t like make up, let alone piles of dark eyeliner. Plus these days being gothic is an art form- you need just the right clothes and just the right attitude. It wasn’t enough to be pale and dark-haired anymore.

But why does she dress the way she does?

She wasn’t stunning, either, she was unique.

Unique how? In appearance only?

Overall impressions:

I think I'll just get to the point this time. I think you gave the reader far too much factual information and not enough showing. As I was reading the piece, I noticed the narrator would tell us one aspect of her life and then moves on to another. This is a problem as certain aspects (although I found interesting) aren't explored deeply enough to make things realistic and compelling. It also detracts from the voice of the narrator as she seems rather monotonic from the constant info dumping.The dialogue (though realistic) doesn't really give me an idea of who she is. It doesn't show why they were friends, why she dresses up in the way she does, her personality etc.

Another problem is the actual story itself. There wasn't much sense of an issue or conflict here to make the audience read on. I like the zipper concept, but it seems to be mentioned only in the beginning and end of the piece. What happens in the middle were just normal everyday observations that doesn't really tie in with this concept.

Try rewriting this but with a more definite point of view (the zipper theme) and I think you will be successful.

Andy.

Lies are like a zipper; Made to hold things together, but under strain, hard to keep up.

Ha, okay, I absolutely love this opening line. It’s catchy and humorous. The only real problem is the “Made” should me “made.” When you use a semicolon, the first letter of the next sentence doesn’t need to be capitalized.

I sighed and touched the fly of my dark jeans, self-consciously checking to see that it hadn’t pulled open again. It was done up tight. Good.
I glanced around, hoping no-one (no one, you don’t need a hyphen) had seen. My eyes (perhaps change ‘eyes’ to 'gaze'. Otherwise the use of the word ‘eyes’ becomes too repetitive.) landed on Sara, her dark eyes watching me in amusement. “Nervous?”

I don’t know, but this first portion of dialogue seems rather random. The sentences don’t seem to follow one another consistently and it doesn’t seem concise nor does it make sense. It really just needs to seem more natural. It has no flow. I mean, do you or your friends talk like that. Probably not. Write it the way you would speak it.

I ignored her, attempting a smile at the woman behind the counter as I dumped a pile of junk in front of her. Judging by her expression, I failed miserably. Her frown deepened as her gaze fell on the pile of candy bars, chips, bags of lollies and fizzy drink. Giving me a disapproving glare she started to scan each item, dropping them into a white plastic bag.

There’s nothing grammatically incorrect but you need to set the scene. Without a setting, at least in this piece, things really don’t make sense. I mean, when you read just this portion, I have no idea what’s going on.

I watched her work without seeing, chewing my lip nervously. What could I do? They were going to kill me. No, rephrase that. They were going to lecture me until my ears bled, skin me alive, then kill me.

Again, you need more detail because the whole time, I keep asking myself, why, why, why. You don’t have to give ever single detail but enough to keep the reader informed. Yeah, I’m sure you’re trying to give your writing a sense of mystery, but too much is almost annoying.

“You want a chocolate bar?”
“Yeah. Gives it.”

These two lines are rather unnecessary. You already know that Sara has asked so you don’t need to have Rachel ask her if she wants one.

The looks on their faces was (were) enough to make me snarl, my lips curling in annoyance. I knew I wasn’t terribly good looking, my long straight black hair was limp rather then sleek, my pale skin (was) sallow rather then creamy, my frame (was) skinny rather then slim. I thought maybe I should just go gothic (goth)- maybe then I would fit in, but I don’t like make up, let alone piles of dark eyeliner. Plus these days being gothic (goth) is an art form- you need just the right clothes and just the right attitude. It wasn’t enough to be pale and dark-haired anymore.

The first “were” is due to the fact that faces is plural meaning that your verb needs to be plural. The two “was” are for consistency. You used “was” in the first portion of the serious of three descriptions so it needs to be used in the other two. Lastly, “gothic” is simply the wrong term here. People very rarely use “gothic” when describing the “goth” trend. Your spell check may say that it’s not a word but it’s stylistically correct.

pulling the fingers as we passed

Probably change this to “flipping the bird” or something along that line.

Being her friend was like courting a mountain lion; she was cute and cuddly and protective right up to the instant where she tore your face off.

This line if fabulously imaginative. Actually one of the best metaphors I’ve heard, like, ever.

Eventually, my gate loomed all to too close.

my (My) mind went blank. There was nothing for it but the truth.

Time to let the zipper drop.

Again, loving these zipper metaphors. They’re very comical and cute.


Okay, so I think I touch on everything above grammatically and stylistically. But I have to say, your characters are well constructed and unique. But between the two, Sara has far more life then Rachel. And this should definitely be worked on. I think the main problem is over sympathizing with her. You’ve immediately painted her weaknesses and asked us to feel bad for her. But what about her strengths. No matter how lowly and decrepit a character is, they have to have their strengths.


Otherwise this is great and thank you so much for giving me a job. Ha, I’ve been impatiently checking the “Will Review for Food” forum and to finally see a post was such a relief. I thought no one would want to know my advice. Hmm, well, thank you.

And anyway, this post is really good. Congrats.

Now, on to the next part.

Hey. I just noticed you post the third part of this, so I thought I'd come back to the first part of it. ...You may have asked me to read it before. I hope not, anyway, because I forgot if you did. Anyway, on to the critique.

“You knew it would catch up to you.”

“You know I love to watch you squirm.”

The repetition kind of jars here. "You knew, you know." Try to alter one or the other a little.

I suppose she thought she had got us all worked out,

I think the sentence works better without "got."

“You know that’s not possible.”

This comes across as a little stilted. Try changing "not possible" to "impossible."

Eventually, my gate loomed all to close.

*too

I love the way you've characterised Sara and Rachel against each other. It helps us understand them better. They have an interesting relationship. They make fun of each other, like friends do. You've made it more realistic than a lot of people do.

This was good. Really entertaining. It makes me want to read more, but it's close to 3 in the morning and I suspect that this critique is already incoherent. So, I'll get to the next two sometime in the next while.

-Mat