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CHECK OUT SAMPLE TEEN STORY ".. loose-suiting white jeans and tie-dye t-cyan checked shirts back then. Oof. Save me. E, on the other hand. Robertson was from Jamaica; tall, lean-brawny, chocolate skin, halo of baby dreads, joyless eyes, really succulent lips and that accent, stud, every time he said my name I felt a tasteful tingle. Me, I was, as I may have mentioned, a late bloomer and a creative writing major and band geek. Robertson was going to be curing cancer and I was going to be sitting in a cardboard box in Times Square, playing the harmonica and writing haikus for a dime a pop. But Robertson had a crush on me, had had one for a yr and broke up with his cheating girl-friend the summer before junior yr and commenced questioning his buddies about me. We went to a little school so word got around instantly. I couldn't believe it. Me? Absolutely? We commenced talking, having clumsy small conversations in the .."

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