group of teenagers - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Mulcair observed the men on the corner until he was sure they were teenagers. For the most part they were too skinny to be full grown, their muscles too stretched over their recently enlarged skeletons. Yet neither were they young teens, the swagger of the later teens fully in place. They moved like guys gaining a sense of surety in themselves and perhaps that was the most dangerous phase of all - physically competent without the experience to know when to show restraint.
A group of teenagers were gathered in a circle on the plaza. From body to body they were so tight it was almost impossible to see what was going on inside, only the music that drifted over their heads gave anything away. Vera ducked down behind a guy with his feet a shoulder width apart and peered in to see a dance-off in the centre. So fun! In a flash she had run around the outside to find a spot to wiggle into...
Even the old gent who said "Good morn'in" to everyone avoided the group of gothically dressed teenagers that frequented the park. They occupied the pergola, often walking along the balustrade and laughing loudly. Sometimes they swore and it carried right across the grass to the other side. Some locals had asked the constable if he could move them on, but he just asked which law they had broken. If the chattering busy bodies could have been a fly on the wall, they would have heard talk of problems at home and school. Companionship, loyalty and camaraderie were all in abundance. And when they laughed the loudest and swore it helped them to cope with the world. When they looked most secretive and untrustworthy all in a huddle they were composing a poem for their blog.
Even given just a script of their conversation, with no context or voices, you would know they were boys. The task directed conversation was interrupted only by jokes, often at the expense of one of their friends. Yet from the dialogue that followed it was clear that no offence had been taken, quite the contrary. They enjoyed the banter, the witty and not-so-witty put-downs. They teased and jibbed one moment and discussed team strategy the next, taking one another seriously and giving well thought responses. But the sensible talk could never last too long, like it was scheduled by an egg timer. Soon the hilarity would start all over again. Were they in class it would be enough to drive any teacher crazy, but in Edward's Dad's garage they were their own bosses. There was no teacher, just a bunch of teenagers who brought the best out of each other.
There were three of them, one girl and two guys. The girl sat between the two very good looking boys; she was short and thin and smoking a blunt. The taller of the two guys was laid back scanning the room in his dark handsome stranger way while the more muscular one was whispering in the girls ear as the two of them laughed. The muscular one tells the tall one what I could assume was some type of joke, he laughs too.They were the type of people I always wished I could be. They were cool and powerful and never going to talk to me, or so i thought. because moments later while I was sadly staring at my drink Mr. tall dark handsome stranger himself had come up to me and asks, "you're the chick on the debate team, right?"
In the park was a group of teenagers, two of them looking like they'd grown too much too soon. The others weren't so thin, at least one sporting some pre-growth spurt chub. When they laughed the birds shot from nearby trees into the darkening evening. Every one of them wore a hoodie pulled up over a baseball cap and jeans hung so low that their legs appeared shorter. Mia was sick of being afraid. She knew her mother wouldn't like it but she set a course to walk right by them, the shortest path to Devon Street.
The girls sitting on the low wall must have been in high-school going by their brash chatter, yet they were dressed as if they were twenty or more. Inga could here a slurring to their words and too much energy with they way they projected every idea. It was as if they'd taken uppers with booze. As she passed her eyes locked onto one face, Dana. She'd changed so much, aged so much, looking sunken and pale instead of the pretty girl she'd been. Perhaps she'd been a "B" student, sometimes "C," but aren't there worse things in life?
Jasmine swore loudly as her shopping bags split under the weight of the groceries, tins of peas and ham sliding into the gutter and bouncing down the stairs to the basement entries of the houses. From nowhere came a group of teens in black hoodies picking it all up. She burst into tears. With the food gone she'd have nothing and neither would Lily. The first one with full arms staggered her way - "Money," she thought, "he wants money."
"M'am, I got what I could. I don't have a bag tho." He stopped, dark skin glowing under the street lights, "Had a bad day?" By now the others had stacked the food around her feet.
Jasmine spluttered "Thanks" and they left, swinging around the posts and the tallest one running right over a few cars as if they were playground toys.