Young Writers Society

I peer down at the girl in the green coat and openly criticize her in my mind. How are you openly criticizing if it's in your mind? She's taken several strands of her hair and has made the poor decision to "dye" it by using a bright iridescent highlighter. Dabbing splashes of green onto those pitiful pieces of hair with the highlighter. Her bony hands work roughly in the process. Earlier today, her cliquey friends thought it'd be a great idea to artificially color their hair. What did they care? "What did they care" seemed like a strange reaction to me. Maybe they didn't know they were contaminating their sleek 'dos. Even if they did, I doubt that would prevent them from doing as they pleased. I can't help but wonder in mid-criticism if her hair color is natural or not. Black roots dull the top of her scalp but in a curtain of light, stringy strands slipping past her ears, it resembled rusty flecks. How could she be so desperate to fit in?, I'd thought. Then again, that's just how it was. Fit in or stand out. She'd probably rather get jabbed in the eye than be unique. That's Wren.

Literature class is the same as usual. Nothing to necessarily look forward to. Until Mrs. Walden orders us back to our seats. Again, this doesn't completely click into place for me. It's not something to look forward to, until being told to sit down? But I'm reviewing while I'm reading, so this might make sense as I keep going. The maximum number of students at a table is four. At mine, Arnie and my friend Elise sit on one side. Wren and I face them on the opposite side. We're all unlikely to be seen with each other outside of this class besides Elise and I. Wren can be found walking all around school with her popular group of friends. It's not exactly a "they rule the school" sort of situation, but they are in the top grade at my middle school, so they tend to be placed near the top of the social pyramid.

Anyhow, Elise is writing in her notebook all delicately Something about this wording sounds very criticizing.... and asking me questions occasionally when confusion at the assignment muddles her concentration. Wren and I are excessively taping down sheets into our workbooks like we're in some mad race to out-tape each other. We're not enemies. Not at all. If anything, we're neutral acquaintances. The type of relationship where you only talk to each other when needed. I don't bother her, she doesn't bother me. Arnie is quietly brainstorming at his corner of the table. Once I'm finished taping my sheets down, I surrender myself to brainstorming mode. Mrs. Walden shuffles by, her short black hair framing her slightly wrinkled face. When she smiles, her wrinkles substitute for dimples. Like those dimples no longer wanted to appear anymore, so they left for an extended vacation. I don't really get what project they're all working on. Not an important thing, but it wouldn't hurt to elaborate a little on what they're doing with tape and such.

"Um, I have a question," Arnie states.

I think I cringed when he uttered that dreaded word. Um. I feel like your character likes to point out flaws a lot. Not necessarily a bad thing, just an interesting personality quirk, but it does make her come off as being a little pessimistic. Considering we're not super close pals, I don't know if he says it often...but he's acquired the habit of dropping it in his sentences frequently in literature class. It doesn't sound good in my ears. In fact, if he removed that word out of his vocabulary, listening to him talk might be more nicer. < Fix this sentence here.Without the constant um's showing up everywhere like spinach stuck in people's teeth. Arnie's shirt is missing some white fabric, his glasses are clear and rectangular, plus he's got braces. Arnie is a little on the tan side. Although I don't have the evidence (I haven't gotten around to asking him), I suspect he's Greek. Now I'm not saying all Greek people are tan, so it's just my instinct speaking here. A wavy mess of dark curls nestle on his head. He's a dork. I didn't write that to insult him, for your information. But by middle school standards, he is a dork. I think Arnie's cute in a bookish way. I don't know if I could call him "my dork", though. Mostly because I don't have the right to. We're not going out and the only real similarity between us I can identify is that we sit at the same table. Two peas in a pods, right? Okay, so I feel like your train of thought jumps around a lot in this part. First you're talking about his appearance out of nowhere, then where he gets his skin tone which kinda flows into the appearance-thing, then suddenly into describing personality. It's good to start developing characters but I do think it needs to ease into it a little more naturally.

"Arnie, can you say a sentence without saying 'um' for once?" Mrs. Walden jokingly comments.

He replies and manages to dodge the blasted word.

Once Mrs. Walden moves on the next table, I try to find the courage to ask him what I kept buzzing at the back of my throat. I couldn't help myself. The bee was coming out whether I liked it or not.

"So, Arnie, were you at the high school last night? I think I saw you there..." I mustered.

"No, I didn't go last night."

"You went?" Wren interjects, focusing her attention onto me.

"Yeah," I answer.

"Arnie, are you going to _____ High School?" I ask. Why leave a blank space? Come up with a fake name.

"No, I'm not going to ______ High School. I'm going to a different school," Arnie casually shoots back. Those seem like a strange combination of words.

Little did he know his reply sent me into a wild frenzy. I did my best to keep my thoughts to myself, of course.

Burdensomely.

Arnie wasn't going to the same high school as me? Weird. I really didn't see it coming. Nor did I want to see it happen either. That meant I basically had less than one school year to make things happen. Or remain in my cozy little state of being table partners. I felt the pressure of breaking out of my comfort zone squeezing the very core of my heart. Honestly? I'd had a crush on Arnie once upon a time. So why was I feeling this way again, but only to learn that those feelings were being magnified by one hundred percent from---dare I say it---hormones? How in your teen years, your emotions become more intense since you're more knowledgeable on how to navigate these raw emotions. At least that's how I viewed this dilemma. I was entering the battlefield. Only, I was going in blind for the first time in a long time. I think it's interesting how mentally your character is suddenly spiraling out of control, hearing that concluding in a flash-second that she still likes him and that this is a serious issue with her. I really do think there's something kind of cute about that. Your character definitely seems rationally-minded, almost strategic in the way she thinks of things, and I find that a little endearing too. But I think this stopped so suddenly with very little climax. I was surprised when I scrolled down and realized this was the end! Your characters could've been a little more developed, but I'm very picky about that, and realistically they did form pretty well around the end. The dialogue, though, could definitely be cleaned up to sound more realistic. I wanted more reaction between your characters - how does Arnie feel about Wren? Is your main character's name even stated (if it is, sorry, didn't catch it)? How do Arnie and your main character act around each other, like friends or more casual than that? All in all, this is a good start. Tweak it a bit and I think this has potential.

Note to the reader: If there are any grammatical/spelling errors, feel free to correct me but try not to go crazy with it. Also, there's a blank when I refer to the high school name for privacy reasons. This story is based on a true event but certain details of it were changed for, once again, privacy reasons. I'm unsure if I want to continue this at the moment. However, this is what I do have so far. The title is 'Being Honest with Me' because it shows how I am struggling to be honest about my feelings towards the whole Arnie situation. Enjoy~

-Deelish

I peer down at the girl in the green coat and criticize her in my mind.

Literature class is the same as usual. Nothing to necessarily look forward to.

Anyhow, Elise is writing in her notebook all delicately and asking me questions occasionally when confusion at the assignment muddles her concentration. Wren and I are excessively taping down sheets into our workbooks like we're in some mad race to out-tape each other.

For your information, we're not enemies.

Without the constant ums showing up everywhere like spinach stuck in people's teeth.

He replies and manages to dodge the blasted word.

"Arnie, are you going to Fullerton High School?" I ask.

Only, I was going in blind for the first time in a long time.