Len

I ran a sweep of my files using OmniDiskSweeper. My /private folder is 189.2GB (and a quick trip to Google told me not to delete it) and my other files total around 21GB. I just restarted my laptop and now have around 5GB of space. There is literally nothing else I can delete, as all the files and programs I have are kind of important and wouldn't open up that much space anyway. Help?

Yeah, I know, I asked opinions on a bit of dialogue yesterday. I don't know, I lost my confidence. Anyway, this opens chapter two, and it feels awkward as hell. Suggestions? Criticism? PLEASE?

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Five minutes til the start of class. My gaze flicked from the clock back down to my book. Seven pages left, and I knew we’d end up having a quiz on it, just because I hadn’t managed to finish. I skimmed the next paragraph.

Wait, did he just die?

Shaking my head, I went back to the top of the page and started over.

“Bummer about Oliver. You guys were great together.”

I shrugged and reread the last few lines. I liked Ryan most of the time. Now was not one of those times.

“If you ever want to do something...”

“What I’d like to do is finish this chapter before Sprenger shows up,” I snapped. His face fell. Damn. “Look, I’m sorry. I was up half the night working on precalc, I’m in a horrible mood, I need to get this done—we can talk at lunch, okay?”

He jerked his head. “Sure. No problem.”

Taylor grinned across the room.

I returned the smile and returned to my book.

The words danced on the page as I dozed off, the late night catching up to me and the effects of my second espresso shot changing from jitters to crash. I read the same line over and over. My mind wandered. Despite what I’d told him, I had no intention of talking to Ryan at lunch. Alexis’s sentence was finally over, and she was probably itching to interrogate me about everything she’d missed. I had no desire to deal with her, either, but it had to be better than failing to evade Gina.

The slamming of the door jerked me awake. I still had five pages to get through, but I knew it wasn’t going to happen—the order to clear off our desks came as Sprenger strode past the board to her desk, dropping a stack of papers on some kid in the front row. He passed them across and back.

Like I thought. Five questions. Two I got easily, but the other three referenced events that hadn’t happened yet. Of course. I made a few wild guesses and hoped for the best.

I've been staring at this mostly-dialogue scene for ages and can't quite figure out why I don't like it. Opinions? Suggestions? Anything, really, would be enormously helpful. Thanks!

--

Alexis’s pencil jabbed me in the arm.

“What?”

“You’re, what, starting the paper already? We have a month, Devon.”

Taylor dropped down in the seat in front of me, her chin resting on the back and her blue eyes sparkling.

“Well, this is fun,” I said. Alexis glared, turning sideways in her chair.

“Oh yeah. It’s a blast. And this,” she waved the assignment sheet over her head, “this is insulting.”

Taylor shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think it’s pretty great, myself.”

“Yeah, well. What do you think, Devon? Since you’re so excited.”

I capped my pen and stuffed my notebook back in my bag. “I don’t think it’s a big deal. It’s a pretty generic topic, right? I don’t think she actually meant it for you.”

“I never said she did,” Alexis said, jumping right back on the defensive. “What, do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“No, I just—”

“You know, I’m not stupid, Devon. I know something happened. Rebecca may be blind, but trust me, I’ll figure it out. So. Are you going to tell me?”

I crossed my arms and glared back. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped.

“Well, this is certainly more interesting than class,” Taylor said.

“Shut up,” Alexis snarled. “I’m not done.” She turned back to me, her expression softened and slightly hurt. I resisted rolling my eyes. “Okay. Okay, Devon. I get the others not saying anything, but. You.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You weren’t going to tell me about Gina’s party, were you?”

Oh.

“Oh, come on. I thought she was full of crap, you know, ‘cause of Chelsea and Morgan and all of that, and you know Haley’s not exactly sane right now.”

A loud ripping sound interrupted my train of thought. Taylor had produced a bag of cheddar popcorn.

“No, really, go on,” she said. “This is fascinating.”

“Forget it.” Alexis threw her phone in her purse and ducked under her desk to retreive her backpack. She flung it over one shoulder and stalked out of the room, her heels clacking against the tile floor.

Taylor offered me some of her popcorn. I shook my head.

“Come on, Devon. It’s not that bad. She’ll be over it by lunch.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I picked at my thumbnail. The lime green polish was chipping again.

“Ryan keeps looking over at you,” Taylor said, changing the subject. I groaned.

“Not helping. Seriously.”

“He’s cute.”

“And he’s dating Vi. I don’t steal people’s boyfriends.”

Taylor sighed. “Are you still pining over Oliver?”

I snorted. “Yeah. That’s what it is. I’m so broken up over Oliver that I can’t function.” She raised an eyebrow. “No, I’m fine. Seriously. I pretty much already knew, and we were planning to split up at the end of summer anyway.”

“Huh,” Taylor said, examining the cheddar dust lingering on her fingers.

“I just want to be single for a while, okay? Just for a while. And I don’t need people trying to set me up.”

“Whatever,” she said, glancing back over my shoulder. “Ryan’s still staring.”

“Oh, shut up.”

She grinned.

I am attempting to cite a case involving Merrill Lynch using the Bluebook format. The citation is within the text. I've been scouring R10 as well as the rest of my Bluebook and I can't seem to find the answer.

So, would the company be cited as Merrill Lynch, Pierce, Fenner & Smith, or as simply Merrill Lynch (which the firm is commonly known by)?

Thanks for your help!

This is an excerpt from the story I'm working on. I'd really appreciate any comments you have, particularly relating to dialogue.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head towards the burning sun.

“Nice party.”

“Sorry?” I asked, sitting up and removing my sunglasses.

“Alexis throws the best ones, don’t you agree?”

“Sure.” I responded casually, not sure how to react to the girl sitting beside me. She was hunched over, and I could barely see her face. A quick scan of her other features, though—long, wavy, dirty-blonde hair, white and navy junior varsity volleyball sweatshirt, old silver locket—gave me a name. Haley.

“I wouldn’t know,” she continued. “I don’t get to go to these parties. I’m only here ‘cause she feels bad about Chelsea.”

I nodded, choosing my words carefully. “You were close?”

“Yeah. Me and Chelsea and Morgan. I was supposed to be there that night, you know. But I’d snuck out the night before and my parents insisted on a family movie night to make sure I didn’t leave. And now they’re dead, and I’m not. I can’t stand them.”

I couldn’t tell whether them was referring to her friends or her parents, but I wasn’t about to ask.

Haley scuffed the toes of her sneakers against the concrete, staring at the black marks they left. I took a long gulp of fake-margarita in the silence, the syrup tasteless on my tongue but the ice freezing my head.

“You don’t want to hear about all of this, do you?” Haley said, so quietly I nearly missed it. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just, I don’t know, I feel like… maybe if I’d been there, they wouldn’t be dead, you know? Which is stupid.”

I thanked the universe for giving me the only situation I didn’t know how to talk my way out of. I could wrangle invites to any party under the sun, I could charm teachers into raising my grades, I could convince cops to not give me tickets. But comforting someone after her friends died? I was at a loss.

Still, I could use the practice.

“I’m so sorry, Haley,” I said carefully, wincing at the clichés pouring from my mouth. “I can’t even imagine.”

“And now I have to sit here and pretend like everything’s wonderful,” she continued, as though she hadn’t heard a word I’d said. “And they’re all staring at me. I know they are. I know what they think.”

“Haley.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. The things they say about me… they think I killed them. I know they do.”

I didn't answer. Instead, I let the conversation flounder while I carefully went through the conversational flowchart in my head. Three choices: Let her talk; find an excuse to leave; or change the subject.

None of them sounded particularly good, but maybe a change in venue would help. I glanced up, catching Oliver's eye, and jerked my head slightly in the direction of my parked car. He nodded.

“Haley, why don’t we get out of here?” I offered. “I know Oliver’s getting bored of this party. We can go for ice cream.”

“Alexis won’t mind?”

I shrugged. “Oliver’s telling her some excuse now. She probably won’t buy it, but it’s not like she can protest. It’s not a big deal, Haley.”

She nodded slowly. “All right then. I’ll call my sister, let her know she doesn’t need to pick me up.”

This is what I have so far of my first chapter. I'm not used to first person, though, so I'd like opinions on how my voice is and what I can do to refine it.

( /word/ is italics, since they don't show up on Y!A)

When I was thirteen, my dad took me to a dinner for the families of his colleagues. He wore a tuxedo—not too different from his usual suits, except for the red bow tie and fabric wrapped around his waist. I remember my mom ruffling his hair and claiming he looked like a penguin. She was in a sparkly, spaghetti-strapped black dress and sleek heels, her hair in strategic curls and her makeup soft and conservative. I’d worn a dress myself, black like my mom’s with a white sweater around my shoulders and tiny heels, a strand of pearls around my neck and fake diamonds in my ears.

Everyone at the dinner looked the same: men in tuxedos, women in fancy dresses clinging to their husbands’ arms as they moved around the room in an intricate dance. My dad insisted on greeting every single person—then introducing my mom, /this is my wife, Leigh,/ and me, /and our lovely daughter, Devon./

And I’d look into their eyes, confident, just as my mom taught me. I’d shake their hands the way she taught me, too, a firm grasp and a solid shake. And they’d laugh, /quite a grip, this one. She must take after you, Bob./ He’d laugh, too.

I learned three things that night. One, you’re always on display. Always. Every single motion, every word, you’re always being analyzed. No matter what.

Two, my dad never told his peers who my mom was. Every time he introduced us, she was always Leigh. After the tenth person, I finally realized they thought she was a stay-at-home mom. I always wondered what Dr. Leigh Evanston-Cooke, Ph.D., Ph.D. thought of that, but I never asked.

Three, everything is politics.

I never forgot that night. It stands out in every social encounter I’ve had since—and luckily. I went from slightly nerdy social outcast in middle school to running in some of the tightest circles in high school.

Which was how I found myself at Majority Leader Alexis’s end-of-summer pool party, chatting lightly, while Majority Whip Rebecca glared at us over the Minority Leader’s shoulder.

It was a perfect reflection of the Senate, if the lawmakers were teenage girls in bikinis and designer sunglasses.

The mental image made me smile.

“What is it?” Alexis asked, stopping in the middle of a story about her family’s trip to Greece the month before.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, smiling as sincerely as I could. She knew it was false. “I was just caught up in your description of the islands. I’ve always wanted to see Greece, but never had the time. You know how it is.” She nodded, although I was sure she had no idea. Coordinating the General Assembly’s recesses with two different school schedules wasn’t easy. “Maybe next summer.”

“You know, my cousin has a house there,” she responded. “We’ll probably go next summer, too. I’ll ask if you can come.”

Both of us knew it wouldn’t happen.

Carefully, I steered the conversation away from exotic vacation destinations and onto the coming year. Just as swiftly, Alexis started complaining about her English teacher. I sipped my drink and pretended to listen.

Do you prefer it when exposition is integrated slowly into the story (so that in parts you're not quite sure what's going on) or spelled out clearly? Some mixture of the two? I tend to do the first, but when I read young adult novels, I notice that the second seems to be the norm, so I was wondering what people in the target age range thought.

So, what do you prefer? What is easier to understand? What flows with the story better?

I'm working on a young adult novel and I'm stuck between writing it in first person (which makes more sense with the plot and tone) and third person (which I am more comfortable with).

So I was wondering, Y!A community, what's your preferred perspective to read? Preferred perspective to write?

I accidentally came out to my mother as asexual. Before that, she thought I was a perfectly normal lesbian (not quite accurate, but whatever).

Now, she thinks I need therapy because I have never and probably will never be interested in sex.

I don't even want to know what will happen if she finds out that I'm also pretty sure I'm genderqueer.

How do I convince my mom I don't need to talk to a therapist about this? I already have a shrink for my other mental problems (AvPD, Bipolar Disorder, anxiety, Asperger Syndrome), but I don't want her to think I'm mentally ill. Also, advice on explaining the I-am-not-a-girl but-I-don't-know-what-I-am?

Should I just ride it out? I'm 19 and plan to move into an apartment next summer, so... I don't know.

I've read Harry Potter--I grew up with him. I've also read Twilight.

I'm looking for some books to eat. The last ones weren't very satisfying.

Can anyone recommend some tasty ones?

I'm working on a novel in which my incredibly corrupt version of the U.S. government somehow keeps their citizens from accessing the Internet. How would they be able to do this?

If spock and edward fought who would win?

i've been thinking about this alld ay and idk

becuz spock is awesme and but edward is adonis marbel chagrinsparklevampire...

what you think?

Brain and brain, what is brain?

I was on vacation

And i think i had a thing of blue stuff

and then i woke up and idk where i am, it's red and rocky and there are three suns and a volcano

also there's a squid next to me.

Tribbles have invaded my ship

there into the machinery jim

my transporters are down and there are no klingons nearby

halp!