New Story, popped into my head. I don't know if I should make it longer, I have eight pages of it. It is a short story, I will put it in parts... ENJOY! And comment and review please!
The classical music filled my ears as the elegant dressed people passed by me and my date. I was here for my parents, my mom is an actress in the Chicago Theater and this is the party to congratulate her whole acting team. But, my mom’s theater calls her team “The Talents”, so lame.
I tapped my foot against the marbled floors. My hair, which was in a perfect bun, felt like a ton on my small head.
My ‘date’ touched my elbow but I sharply pulled away. I didn’t choose him to come with me, my mom did.
“We have to look like we are having a grand time and you aren’t helping.” He said in his British accent.
I stared at the grand chandelier; it hung on the ceiling showing its gold colors throughout the whole ball room. The ball room was covered in beige and gold striped walls, the walls were made from fabric, actual silk fabric.
“Well, I don’t want to look like I’m having a ‘grand time’.” I hissed.
I looked at my date in the eyes. He had green eyes, like disgusting toxic fungi. His hair was in perfect order for this night, all the brown locks on the top of his head.
“Come on; be nice for your mum.” He whispered.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” I whispered back.
He rolled his eyes.
Then I saw my mom walking up to us. I immediately smiled and stepped closer to Hugh. His pure cotton suit rubbed against my bare arm.
“So, how are the two love birds?” she said in a high pitched voice.
All I wanted to do then is barf.
“Mom, you set us up together, I could have chosen someone else but no, you had to choose my date.”
She rolled her eyes this time and pulled her red silky dress up off the floor.
“You would’ve chosen some weirdo,” she whispered.
“What…?” I asked in disbelief.
My jaw fell down as she tried to explain.
“What I meant was, he is prejudice, your boyfriend is a skater, he wouldn’t have cleaned up for this event and you know it, so don’t lie.” She explained in a hurry.
“Well, that’s actually true, but still! I could’ve came alone mom!” I protested.
She came up closer to me and put her hands on my shoulders.
“Sweetie, this is a black tie event, everyone has a date,” she explained.
I rolled my eyes and looked at her perfectly curled brown hair.
“Okay, okay, now go back and babble to your friends,” I joked.
My mom and I did that often. We just played jokes on each other, even though some of them may be disses, we acted like sisters, but just the best friends type.
She smiled and walked away, her heels clicking her way. I turned and faced Hugh, he was fixing his tie.
“Hugh,” I said.
His eyes bolted at me. Those fungi killers again!
“What?” he asked.
I’m being that mean because I hate him for being my date. It was forced, and when something is forced, I say “Me no likey,” and its everything I hate, automatically.
I rolled my eyes and tucked a strand of my dirty blonde hair behind my ear.
“Well,” he asked, annoyed.
I placed my hand on my hip and leaned against the marble table next to us. It was a brown marble, I don’t even know what it’s called so I won’t help you there. It must have been from like Spain or something expensive.
“Why’d you accept to come, who are you anyway?” I asked, finally.
“I’m Hugh, and I accepted because I needed a date as well, I’m part of the theater.”
“I’m too but I didn’t wanna come,” I said the last part under my nose.
He leaned in closer to me.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Nothin’,” I murmured.
“Right,” he leaned against the table.
People were making small talks around us, laughing, drinking their expensive wines, and dancing or maybe just eating and having to go pee really bad.
It felt like an unreal world, a dream, something unnormal. There were no problems in the world in this little closed up box.
Well, for a box, it’s pretty big. But, it isn’t a box so whatever.
He scooted closer to me but I couldn’t move away, that was the end of the table. I could smell is cologne and hair gel. Ew, his hair gel has a scent. Not that bed though, it smells like lemons. I love lemons and anything citrusy.
I rub my hand against my arm from boredom. Even the classical music doesn’t bring me up, not that I like classical music but, it’s just I love music. Uh, but still.
“Are you going to audition for the next play?” Hugh spoke up.
His voice stunned me so I jumped.
“Uh, yeah,”
He chuckled.
“Do you know what the next play is gonna be about?” he asked still chuckling like a hyena.
I hit him lightly on his arm. He showed a fake expression of hurt.
“Actually no,” I replied simply.
“Then why would you audition if you don’t know?”
“Because I’m an actress, I’m going to audition for anything that comes my way.” I lied.
I am an actress it’s just that I wasn’t passionate for it. I was a blogger. Complete nose in my computer, typing all night and all day. I knew how to act it’s just that my mom begged me to join the theater, because I knew how to act. I got that from her, I didn’t like the idea, but it was fun. It filled my time.
He laughed again which pissed me off.
“You’re a passionate actress, yeah right; I’ve seen you act, lazy…”
My heart sped up and I was burning up with anger.
“Excuse me?” I asked, harshly.
He stopped laughing and saw that I was serious.
“Hey, you just don’t seem…” I cut his britishness off.
“Shut up! I know how to act, and I’m great at it. I love acting! Everyone looks down at me like I’m a star!” I almost yelled from anger.
He had wild eyes and he was starting to turn red.
I stopped leaning against the table and stood in front of him. He stood up as well.
“Fine, you are good, but I’m better.” He bragged.
I massaged my hands and scanned the room. I guess this box can’t throw away problems…
“Uh, can you stop being so stuck up!?” I said loudly.
His face grew a grin and he said, “You’re jealous, aren’t you? That I’m better.”
I chuckled and laid my hand on my stomach.
His slim figure over towered me as he waited for what I was going to say.
“No fuckin’ hell. I would never, in all my life, be jealous of you.” I said sharply.
“Why not, I mean look at me.” He said with a smile.
I blinked.
“What is there to look at?” I said.
He tapped his perfect shoe against the marbled floors and looked shocked, no, he looked like he just got dissed by me. Oh wow, he just did.
“Very funny Hayley,” he said as sharply as I did before.
“Well, tell me.” I said simply.
He laughed sarcastically.
I looked away from his anger and looked at my mom. She was with my dad and they were talking to her dance coach. He was the best coach in town, Mr. El Summers.
Everyone knew him; everyone wanted to learn to dance with him. He’s hot shot in all of America. My mom is dam lucky that she got him do work with her. He’s from, Oh what do you know, England. He taught John Travolta, Zac Efron, many people that I don’t feel like naming.
Hugh tapped my shoulder and I jumped at his touch.
“What the he…?” he cut me off.
“What are you staring at?” his British accent rang in my ears.
“Mr. El Summers,”
He looked up and scanned the ball room. I knew it. He is the best dance coach in America so he would want his help.
He leaned against me, his hands on my shoulders, as he looked.
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137,484 Literary Works • 672,034 Reviews
I love this story! I like it that it doesn't take place in a school... But where did the british guy come from? You never write about the british ha-ha.
Michelle
I've read quite a few of your post in the romance section and this is the first one where I thought "mmmm I would like to comment." I like the fact that its different from all the rest of the ones you've written: it's not set in a school and less teeny romance. I also enjoy he's British!
I think you should put more on because i understood what was going on and I want to see more!
-J.A.C
Hey, I'm Jai and I'll be reviewing today :3
I don't know if it's a location language issue, but theatre is spelled "re" in Australia.
I understand that this is a teenage novel, but do you want it to target solely teenagers? If not, you could very easily make this adult standard by saying, "... calls her team The Talents, which I believed was not only incorrect but pretty lame as well." If you remove the teenage voice from the narrative (the "so lame" part without a reason why it's lame), but keep it in the dialogue, immediately you've got a more professional piece of work. Unless of course you're trying to write as a teenager for teenagers.
This is what I'm talking about. A ton is a bit extreme. But if you had said something funny it wouldn't be as bad, "...felt like a small pigeon had taken roost on my head, digging its sharp talons into my scalp."
He is prejudice? What?
Would an adult know what that word meant? It's not even a word, to my knowledge.
Just what?
Like I said, a teenager who doesn't know anything and can't describe her surroundings is a bit of a turn off for some readers. Imagine if you had written this in third person. "The girl looked down at the marble table, swirls of white and grey interlacing with the dominant brown. She didn't know what type of marble was, but assumed it was expensive, maybe from Spain or France. Do they make marble in France? She thought. Finally, satisfied she had made Hugh wait long enough she lifted her head and asked..."
*under my breath?
The first two sentences is your character trying to be philosophical, then the last sentence sharply reminds the reader that the main character is a child and they shouldn't expect intelligent thoughts from her.
Tense changes.
Why are you rambling? Every word you write the reader is obliged to read. Think of it as an English essay. "American Natives generally live at Preserves, which isn't a jam, but a place to actually live, you know? But still." Would you get away with that? Random interjections, responses that don't fit and just make the reader raise an eyebrow? At every word you could lose a reader.
Metaphors and similes are great. But not when they're unbelievably written. If you had said, "... he asked, his laughter not quite unlike a hyena's rough bark." then it's believable. The way you wrote it is meant to come across as comical, but just sounds false.
Redundancy.
You got the idea that you didn't like it from her?
*looks up at me. Generally stars are above our heads. Also, "look down" is an unfavourable way of looking at someone.
Tell me why anyone would want to read about a teenager who's so quick to unreasonable anger. Do you respond like that when someone teases you?
Adverbs are great. Adverbs that end in "ly" are not so great. Nearly every single dialogue tag you've given ends with a "loudly", "sharply", "simply" etc.
No fuckin' hell? Or "No fuckin' way in hell"?
Do you read novels like this?
Umm... So you've got a celebrity choreographer and he just so happens to teach the main character's mother who is a small town actress... And he also taught John Travolta to dance...
So... Overall.
I don't know where you're going with this in terms of plot. I dislike the style you've written in, but I think everyone goes through the "write only what you know" phrase, and I'm sure you'll grow out of it sooner or later. In terms of grammar, you've performed superbly, I didn't find many mistakes at all.
I don't know anything about Hugh as a character, only that he's English. Hayley's mother is a snob. Hayley herself is ridiculously easy to anger and... a blogger... That's about it. That's what I'm leaving with, after reading this story. Hayley get's angry really easily and she doesn't know anything or too lazy to learn anything.
Keep writing, don't hesitate to reply directly to this review with any queries or comments.
- Jai
Okay. Well, honestly, I was a little confused. I know you said you had broken it up, but I didn't understand the plot. Okay, so they're both actors going to a lame party. They both hate each other. That's all I really got from the story. I'm not saying I hate it, I'm just saying, I think you should develop the story a little more. Or at least post more from the original that you had. I hope I helped! Good luck!