Young Writers Society

Hey! This is Shooting Stars as requested! Sorry for the wait!

I think that this was a very interesting piece and it drew me in with the first few sentences. However, there were a few things that took away from your story.

The biggest critique is that in the very beginning of the story, it was a little hard to tell if it was a boy or a girl! Try to put in some more descriptions of the character and their surroundings. When you do this, though remember to not make the descriptions obvious.

One small mistake that kept popping up was that there were a lot of times when words that should have been capitalized were not. Reread over your story and try to fix these.

Most of the other mistakes have already been pointed out, so I think you're covered! Despite a few corrections, this was an interesting, well-written story you have here! I enjoyed it, and hope to see more from you!
---Shooting Stars

Hi! Comments in bold.

"you're kidding right?" As everyone else mentioned - GRAMMAR! Edit way more carefully before posting something next time, make sure you don't have small mistakes like this because it draws attention away from potential bigger problems

"I just feel like we've grown apart."

I heard the plastic groan as my hand squeezed the phone even tighter.

"But things were going so well! We were going to see The Dave Mathew's Band next week."

"I hate The Dave Mathew's Band."

Suddenly, a new voice poured faintly from the cell phone.

"Kristen? Baby, who's that you're talking to? Come back to bed."

I nearly tripped over my own feet as I paced back and forth. "Is that Eric? Kristen have you been sleeping with
Eric?"

"Matt comma I gotta go, bye!"

I heard a click and threw my phone at the wall. It's battery ejected itself with a satisfying crunch, relieving a small portion of my fury. Great sentenceI fell back onto my bed, hoping my roommate was still drowning his college education in alcohol. How he had made it to graduate school without failing mystified me. More needed on your narrator here, don't switch to the room mate so fast. Okay, so you've said he's furious - there must be a range of emotions he's tasting right now though, take the reader through them. Thoughts - is he surprised, was he suspecting something? Who is Eric? Take some time here to fully develop the situation. Also, you mentioned the band and concert there, the narrator acting like he thought Kristen liked it but she's saying he doesn't - no reaction to that? You could use this specific point to develop the theme of delusion the narrator was under or something, that he didn't really know Kristen.

"Man, to hell with Kristen!" I shouted to myself, "I don't need her! And I certainly don't need that asshole Eric."

I sighed and rolled over onto my face, gripping the sheets so hard my hands turned white. Next time I see him, I'm gonna I'd reconsider this - fine in dialogue to shorten words in this manner but I'd spell it all out as it should be herepunch him in the face. Just right in the face without saying anything. I'll just take my fist and I'll get it past his massive arms... and right up into his face that's a head higher than mine...

I sighed and forced myself to acknowledge that these thoughts were ridiculous. There was no way I could beat Eric in a fight, even if I didn't want to admit it. At least not a physical one. I put the battery back in my phone and grinned. Why on earth is he grinning? Still don't know who Eric is. Waaaay more development and background needed, for a first section this is barely two-dimensional, doesn't draw me in enough. Having said that, your use of words and sentence structure, imagery, is very convincing when you do use it - do so more and you can really bring the whole situation into reality. Just work on it, even after reading such a short section I think there's loads of potential here

~~~

"So I hear you know your way around a computer. If someone's computer happens to go haywire, I'd see to it that you were repaid fairly well."

"Jesus man, I thought you said you wanted me to fix a computer, not hack one," the man said, taking another sip of his latte. Seems to be a total contradiction between his words and actions here. He's saying something which implies his surprise, perhaps reluctance? I don't know, but either way, not fitting for him to say that and then calmly take a sit of his latte - choke on it, perhaps.

"It's essentially the same thing comma just in reverse, right?"

"That's a gross oversimplification."

"So you don't ever hack computers," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well no, I do, but that's not the point. I wouldn't do it for money in any case."

"You're a grad student and you're not short on cash?" I asked with a chuckle.

"nah man, fixing computers for people on campus pays quite a bit, so I don't really need to do anything illegal to stay up on my payments. At least not yet."

I frowned and burned my tongue for the fourth time with my hot chocolate If he knows it's too hot why does he keep burning his mouth on it - too impatient, flustered so he keeps forgetting...?. "Walk with me, let's talk," I said with a mouthful of scone.

"So theoretically, if you wanted to, could you send an E-mail to someone and have it look like it was from someone else?" I asked as we left the Starbucks and the sound of pseudo-intellectuals and punk rock fans faded into the distance.

"No, I couldn't comma because that would be illegal. Who did you say told you about me?"

"That's not important, what I'm asking is if it's possible."

He paused and bit his lip while I put a couple quarters into a street vending machine, finally having given up on trying to drink my hot chocolate without scalding myself.

"I mean it's definitely possible it's just a question of how legit you want it to look."

He stopped talking to observe me as I spitefully kicked the vending machine.

"Stupid thing ate my money. I just can't win today," I said with a groan.

"Don't worry, I have a key," he said, casually pulling it from his pocket and opening the machine. I
looked worriedly about as people watched him take a soda and close the door as if it were his own personal refrigerator.

"Roderick right?" I said with the elated smile of someone who had just gotten away with a crime, "I owe you one, let me buy you a drink."

I'm confused and annoyed. Both for the same reason - not enough background and development and yet I need to try and follow what's going on. I don't know what mood the narrator is in because you're way to vague to even imply it. I have no idea who he's talking to and why, what that person looks like, what the narrator thinks of him - basically a big flat blank cut out of a person is all I have. I want a three-dimensional human being instead. Also, you have the perfect opportunity to give some background about the narrator - it seems to be implied he's not a college student but used to be - did he graduate, drop out, is he working, how old is he?

~~~

"So then he asks me how he can be more secure and I tell him to install Linux and do you know what his response was?" Roderick said with the boisterous volume of someone who's had a little bit too much to drink.

"No comma what did he say," I said with a smile, attempting to pretend I'd drank even close to as much as he had. Would it not be apparent by the number of drinks bought, type of drink they're having? How is the narrator able to pretend - tossing drink over his shoulder, bribing the barman and having water instead of vodka, having diluted spirits... sooo many different ways, be creative! Take every opportunity you have to be creative!

"I'm not sure that will be compatible with Windows!" Perhaps some more background on computers so the reader knows what's going on? You could give this in some form of a metaphor to make it more accessible to your readers

He burst into laughter and nearly spilled his drink as he set it down on the bar. I joined in, happy I finally got one of his jokes and didn't have to fake any more laughter. I leaned against the bar and studied his face. The look in his eyes told me he was just drunk enough to start testing the water. I put the first part of my plan into action. ...What joke? Why is your narrator so good at reading people - it's not always easy to tell if someone is drunk or how drunk they really are, especially if you don't know them that well - or do they know each other well? And what plan? For goodness sake tell/show me SOMETHING already!

"So you're a white hat hacker then right?Speech marks. IS white hacker an actual term? How does the narrator know it, is he into IT as well, had he just heard it?

"Yep. I only hack as a countermeasure and a learning tool. Nothing I do is malicious and most of the time it helps stop people who are."

I scratched my head and stared pensively at my drink for a moment. It looked like I'd have to do this the hard way. "yeah, that figures I guess."

"What do you mean by that," Roderick said, sober enough to detect the insulting tone of my voice.

"Well all the good hackers are black hat. You know the expression 'those who can't do teach'? Well, for hackers it's 'those who can't break the rules become white hats'."

He frowned and became suddenly tense. "That's bullshit, I can break the rules better than anyone on campus. Better than anyone in the country!"

I smiled. "Prove it."

"Name it and I can do it," he said, beaming as he turned his alcohol fueled rage into pride.

"You said hacking e-mail is possible. If that's true I want to see you do it. I want to be able to send something from this address to this one," I told him. I slid a piece of paper across the bar and triumphantly watched him pick it up angrily, his pride evidently still hurting.

"Oh comma it's a Gmail account."

"is that a problem?"

He shot me an enraged glare. "Not in the slightest."

"I want it to look completely legitimate. No one can no it's not from the person who owns the address."

"Still no problem, I'll just break into the account. You know the person well?"

I looked at the ground. "She's my ex girlfriend." Any more feelings about this breakup? How long after that phone conversation is this, by the way?

He chuckled. "So it's one of those kind of deals. I can make a program to get her password but it would save a lot of time if I could just guess. Does she have any cats?"

"She hates animals."

"Inside jokes?"

"She doesn't really have a sense of humor."

"Favorite band?"

"Doesn't like music."

"And you dated this girl?" He asked.

"hey, in my defense, she was really hot."

He snickered quietly and then quickly composed himself. "Tomorrow is Saturday, I can have it done before noon. Here's my number, just text me the message you want me to send okay?

"You're sure you can't do it now?" I asked, worried that he might come to his senses once he sobered up a bit.

"Writing programs takes a little while. I could do it now, but I'd have to use someone else's program and that wouldn't really prove anything now comma would it?"

I made a couple more condescending comments about how I was sure he was just pretending he could do it before leaving the bar confidently. It wasn't the first time I'd talked my way into getting what I wanted but it felt good nonetheless. While Roderick headed to his apartment, I briefly considered returning to mine, but decided otherwise. The fresh night air made me feel young and alive, and the phantom voice of my wounded pride called for a replacement for Kristen. I decided to head to one of the larger upperclassmen bars, judging that to be the best place to find a new girlfriend. Why does he want a girlfriend so badly? One night stand wouldn't do? Hooker? Why a relationship, of all things?


When I got there, I realized that it had been over a year since the last time I had been there. As a junior I had felt cultured and high class to be hanging around older people like upperclassmen and grad students, and as a senior I had felt an obligation that avoid lowerclassmen like the plague; now as a graduate student, the whole thing felt trivial. Still, there was no shortage of beautiful women, and the bar had even added a dance club, nearly tripling the amount of people who were there. I casually bought a beer, reveling in my ability to do so. I didn't care much for alcohol myself, but I enjoyed the looks from wide eyed undergrads as I ostentatiously flashed my identification, wearing the cocky smile of one who knew it wasn't fake.


As the bartender slid me the drink that I would probably end up sipping gingerly for the next hour or so, a girl sat down on a nearby stool and spoke to me.

"Hey," she said in a voice that sounded delightfully musical, and reminded me of crystal chimes.

"Hey," I responded, turning to face her. She was remarkably young, but stunningly beautiful.

"Are you a grad student?" she asked, pulling a lock of dark blond hair behind her ear.

"I am."

"That's so cool! What are you studying?"

"Business. What grade are you in?"

She smiled sweetly and said she was a sophomore. I didn't quite know how to read this girl, as she was unlike anyone I had ever met. Everything about her seemed to be of a dual nature, as if she was unsure of whether she wanted to come across as a seductive woman or a playful child. The peculiar thing was that while most people would dance back and forth between the two, she seemed to have figured out how to blend the two seamlessly. As our conversation continued, she told me her name was Ellie, but beyond that seemed reluctant to talk about herself, always directing the conversation back at me. Ignoring the part of me that felt flattered, I began to acknowledge how suspicious this was and actively decided to keep an eye her. Why is he so paranoid? Why don't you give a bit more of the dialogue and insight about her - tall, hair colour, tanned or not, what actions betray this dual personality he thinks he sees - she's flat, too.

"You live in an apartment? That must be so great! I really hate living in the dorms. It's just so... juvenile, you know?"

I nodded and consciously tried not to let on how entranced I was with the way she moved, the way she looked and the way she smelled. Only when the scent of expensive perfume began to permeate the air around me did I realized that she had been gradually moving closer to me. How does she move, look and smell? Seeing as you haven't told me anything about this how do you expect me to imagine it?

"Sometimes I just get so tired of it and I need someone more... mature." She leaned in and my lips tingled as they brushed hers. I felt her small smooth arms wrap gently around me, and I struggled to keep my wits about me, clinging desperately to my earlier suspicions so as not to be caught off guard if I had been correct. Fortunately, my logical side prevailed, and when I felt her youthful feminine hands gingerly sliding up against my rear, I confirmed that this girl was trouble. I had half a mind to confront her right there, but just in time realized that I might very well lose that battle. If she could seduce me, the most lucid person I know, I had no doubts in her ability to garner support from several of the more dangerous men in the room. Arrogant much? That's fine - but maybe you should make it clearer why the narrator has such a high opinion of himself - for instance through his background, past incidents. Also, what dangerous men?

After a few more gentle kisses, she pulled away and removed her cell phone from her pocket with an expression of sudden discomfort. Opening it, she gasped theatrically and frantically explained that her mother was in the hospital and she needed to go immediately. I played along, feigning concern and telling her it was nice meeting her. As soon as she left the building I leapt into action. She was really good at what she did, but I had the advantage of knowing the campus better. I cut through a couple side streets, and even climbed over a chain link fence, rejoicing in the fact that I had been working on cardio at the gym recently. I managed to get the bus stop almost half a minute before she did, and hid in the shadows of a nearby building until she climbed on to the bus.

"Sorry to bother you comma Ellie comma but your mother is going to have to wait."

As she looked up at me from her seat, I caught a glimpse of her first real emotion all night. Fear.

"W-what?" she stammered, nearly dropping her phone mid text.

"I want my wallet back. Now."

She swallowed her fear and replaced it with another calculated facade.

"I'm sorry I took it, I just... I don't know if I'll have enough to eat this semester!" the other people on the bus stared in wonder as tears rolled down her face. My resolve faltered as I looked upon the heartbreaking spectacle. She stole his wallet? If it's so heartbreaking, why don't you show me it is instead of telling me, because as it is it sounds like the other passengers and the narrator are flat for believing her, because she's flat. I ignored my empathy and pressed my advantage.


"That was a nice try, but I'm not an idiot, and I'm not drunk. Now give me my wallet."

She stopped sobbing and pulled my wallet out of her pocket. As if testing the water to make sure I wasn't going to call the cops, she looked up at me and studied my face.

"I'm not angry and I'm not going to report you, but there is something I want first," I told her as I collected my wallet and checked to make sure the money was all there.

"What's that?" she asked, her expression changing from sad to puzzled without a moment's notice.

"I want in on this. You're damn good at manipulating people, and I get the feeling I'm not your first victim or your last. So first, I want you to tell me the truth about who you are and secondly, I want to see what you're capable of." Why, to what end might he use her? Also, the dual nature he first glimpsed in her - has his opinion about that changed, any more thoughts...? Going back to previous thoughts/ideas helps give your story fluidity, your character reality, and it al fits and falls together with more ease.

She smiled and visibly relaxed into her seat. "I like you Matt. You're sharp."

"So we have a deal? You let me in on this whole operation and I don't call the cops on your sorry ass?"

She giggled girlishly and said, "Let's get real, even if you did call the cops, I'd just talk my way out of it. ...Um, and what about the passengers who saw it all?[ How can she be so blaze about it - never been caught before, she's not even a bit worried now? So why did she seem slightly worried earlier, is it because she knows he won't actually make the call now - and if so, how does she know this? You can give all this info even when writing in first person from another one's perspective. Anyways though Get rid of the "though", redundant, I'll take your deal, but only because I think it would be kind of fun to have a partner in crime. As for the truth, I'm not a sophomore, I'm a freshmen, and my real name is Raleigh, not Ellie."

"Nice to meet you comma Raleigh."

"for the second thing you wanted to know what I'm capable of?"

I nodded. She put on a devilish smile.

"Anything."

"Alright, I'm interested, name something." Awkward phrasing, if you want to keep this structure it would make more sense to have her asking him to name something if she claims she can do anything... otherwise, he can just ask "Such as?" or "For example?" or whatever to make it sound less awkward, grating.

"I can get beer," she announced proudly.

I scoffed. "So can I."

"I can get beer from anywhere. Tell me the most conservative bar on campus and I promise you I can get beer from the for free."

This caught my attention. "There's a really uptight one in a couple stops. They card at the door and when you buy. Still think you can do it?"

Raleigh smiled and leaned back in her seat. "watch me."

Several stops later we arrived a couple blocks away from the bar and piled from the bus into the chilly night air. I was comfortably war inside my jacket, but nevertheless I shook uncontrollably, barely able to contain my excitement. Part of this reaction was hopeful anticipation of what I considered to be a veritable miracle. The other part comma however, was an unnerving fear that this girl's ruthless bravado was all just another illusion. One that I was stupid enough to fall for. Why miracle? Why is this so important to him?


Raleigh surveyed the line in front of the bar with a gaze similar to that of a general surveying a battlefield. The bouncer at the door was a mountain of a man, towering a full head above the people in the line and boasting shoulders so wide that they blocked the entire entrance to the building from sight.

"Why are you just standing here?" I demanded, "You having second thoughts?"

She turned to face me and shifted her weight uncomfortably. "would you be patient! I'm waiting for the line to die down. Bouncers get nervous when there are more witnesses around, cause' they can't just be letting anyone in if too many people are watching."

"Alright, I got you, just do it soon. It's damn cold out here."

Eventually, the line shortened until only a few people were waiting to get in, and Raleigh seized her opportunity. She took a deep breath, and for a fleeting moment I caught a glimpse of weakness in her before she quickly replaced it with a nonchalant swagger. Her pretty visage wore a relaxed smile, and her small frame now stood as if she were royalty. I was once again astounded by how quickly she could change her demeanor on a whim, and followed behind her in line, eager to watch the show.

He took one look at her and frowned. "Nice try freshmen, but you have to be at least twenty one to get in here. Next!"

Raleigh suddenly donned a tormented look. "You don't understand... I-"

"What don't I understand? You have to be of legal age to drink if you want to get in, now please get out of the line so the man behind you can get in."

She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears, her voice cracking ever so slightly as she spoke. "I'm not going in to drink, I'm going in to get my sister." She paused for a moment as if collecting her thoughts before she delivered the final blow of her act. All at once she began to sob uncontrollably and tears ran down her face in a way that was almost picturesque.

"you see, she's an alcoholic and she ran away from home because our parents said she couldn't have any more booze and now she's in here and I'm afraid she might do something stupid. Please! You've got to help me, I've got to go in and talk her out of relapsing! Please I'm just so scared for her."

The man looked about how I felt. Stunned and heartbroken. It was like watching a magic trick that you knew was fake but couldn't figure out how it was done. As I watched closely, I could almost see her smiling faintly as she read the bouncer's face. Bouncers are usually much harder to get past than this... or they'd ask the sister's name and say they'd get her out instead of letting the Raleigh in...

"Alright, you can go, but don't get into any trouble. Good luck helping your sister," he added as I showed him my driver's license.

Miraculously I managed to contain my joyous laughter until we entered the bar together.

"Stupid fat lug. He looks tough on the outside, but one little girl cries and he shows he's just a weak sentimental old fool." The harsh words sounded ironic and out of place coming from such a beautiful mouth. I began to wonder whether Raleigh was completely devoid of empathy or if she was just really good at ignoring it. In any case, I saw tremendous potential in her abilities and couldn't wait to see just how far we could take this.

"You're not done yet, don't get cocky. You still have to buy the beer, which is going to be difficult with that idealistic prude as the one selling it." Why idealistic? How does the narrator know the bartender's a prude?

She rolled her eyes and lackadaisically toyed with her hair. "We'll see just how idealistic he really is. Everyone has a price."

I cocked my head. "Well, not everyone. I mean there are some people who just can't be bought, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's one of them. Either way, you have nothing to bribe him with."

"How do you know that?"

"You wouldn't be resorting to petty theft if you actually had a job. On top of that, even if you did manage to bribe him with the loose change you've managed to pickpocket recently, bribes are off the table because you said you could get the booze for free."

She giggled and shoved me playfully. "Don't be so naive commaMatt. not all bribes are cash."

My mouth became suddenly dry. This was about to get interesting.

First off, I can tell you didn't proofread this. There are so many grammatical errors in the first section, it's not even funny. I might point out a few things here and there, but it would take too much time to single out every single one, that I won't be able to do a proper review.

"you're kidding right?"

"I just feel like we've grown apart."

I heard the plastic groan as my hand squeezed the phone even tighter.

"But things were going so well! We were going to see The Dave Mathew's Band next week."

"I hate The Dave Mathew's Band."

Suddenly, a new voice poured faintly from the cell phone.

"Kristen? Baby, who's that you're talking to? Come back to bed."

I nearly tripped over my own feet as I paced back and forth. "Is that Eric? Kristen have you been sleeping with
Eric?"

"Matt I gotta go, bye!"

I heard a click and threw my phone at the wall. It's battery ejected itself with a satisfying crunch, relieving a small portion of my fury. I fell back onto my bed, hoping my roommate was still drowning his college education in alcohol. How he had made it to graduate school without failing mystified me.

"Man, to hell with Kristen!" I shouted to myself, "I don't need her! And I certainly don't need that asshole Eric."

I sighed and rolled over onto my face, gripping the sheets so hard my hands turned white. Next time I see him, I'm gonna punch him in the face. Just right in the face without saying anything. I'll just take my fist and I'll get it past his massive arms... and right up into his face that's a head higher than mine...

I sighed and forced myself to acknowledge that these thoughts were ridiculous. There was no way I could beat Eric in a fight, even if I didn't want to admit it. At least not a physical one. I put the battery back in my phone and grinned.

"So I hear you know your way around a computer. If someone's computer happens to go haywire, I'd see to it that you were repaid fairly well."

"Jesus man, I thought you said you wanted me to fix a computer, not hack one," the man said, taking another sip of his latte.

"It's essentially the same thing just in reverse, right?"

"That's a gross oversimplification."

"So you don't ever hack computers," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well no, I do, but that's not the point. I wouldn't do it for money in any case."

"You're a grad student and you're not short on cash?" I asked with a chuckle.

"nah man, fixing computers for people on campus pays quite a bit, so I don't really need to do anything illegal to stay up on my payments. At least not yet."

I frowned and burned my tongue for the fourth time with my hot chocolate. "Walk with me, let's talk," I said with a mouthful of scone.

"So theoretically, if you wanted to, could you send an E-mail to someone and have it look like it was from someone else?" I asked as we left the Starbucks and the sound of pseudo-intellectuals and punk rock fans faded into the distance.

"No, I couldn't because that would be illegal. Who did you say told you about me?"

"That's not important, what I'm asking is if it's possible."

He paused and bit his lip while I put a couple quarters into a street vending machine, finally having given up on trying to drink my hot chocolate without scalding myself.

"I mean it's definitely possible it's just a question of how legit you want it to look."

He stopped talking to observe me as I spitefully kicked the vending machine.

"Stupid thing ate my money. I just can't win today," I said with a groan.

"Don't worry, I have a key," he said, casually pulling it from his pocket and opening the machine. I
looked worriedly about as people watched him take a soda and close the door as if it were his own personal refrigerator.

"Roderick right?" I said with the elated smile of someone who had just gotten away with a crime, "I owe you one, let me buy you a drink."

Hi psudiname!

I heard the plastic groan as my hand squeezed the phone even tighter.

"But things were going so well! We were going to see The Dave Mathew's Band next week."

"I hate The Dave Mathew's Band."

Suddenly, a new voice poured faintly from the cell phone.

"Kristen? Baby, who's that you're talking to? Come back to bed."

I nearly tripped over my own feet as I paced back and forth. "Is that Eric? Kristen have you been sleeping with
Eric?"

"Matt I gotta go, bye!"

I heard a click and threw my phone at the wall. It's battery ejected itself with a satisfying crunch, relieving a small portion of my fury. I fell back onto my bed, hoping my roommate was still drowning his college education in alcohol. How he had made it to graduate school without failing mystified me.

"Man, to hell with Kristen!" I shouted to myself, "I don't need her! And I certainly don't need that asshole Eric."

At least not a physical one. I put the battery back in my phone and grinned.

"So I hear you know your way around a computer. If someone's computer happens to go haywire, I'd see to it that you were repaid fairly well."

"Jesus man, I thought you said you wanted me to fix a computer, not hack one," the man said, taking another sip of his latte.

"It's essentially the same thing just in reverse, right?"

"That's a gross oversimplification."

"So you don't ever hack computers," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well no, I do, but that's not the point. I wouldn't do it for money in any case."

"You're a grad student and you're not short on cash?" I asked with a chuckle.

"nah man, fixing computers for people on campus pays quite a bit, so I don't really need to do anything illegal to stay up on my payments. At least not yet."

I frowned and burned my tongue for the fourth time with my hot chocolate. "Walk with me, let's talk," I said with a mouthful of scone.

Okay, Name, so this is the second version of the review I was going to post...and a shorter one, unfortunately. But here I go. Character and dialogue-wise, I found it fairly interesting. However, something about the first line bothered me; well, several things, actually. One was that it started out with a lower case letter even though it's a sentence, like so:

"you're kidding right?"

I heard a click and threw my phone at the wall. It's battery ejected itself with a satisfying crunch, relieving a small portion of my fury. I fell back onto my bed, hoping my roommate was still drowning his college education in alcohol. How he had made it to graduate school without failing mystified me.

"Man, to hell with Kristen!" I shouted to myself, "I don't need her! And I certainly don't need that asshole Eric."