"Another lazy stereotype," Emily said, throwing down the manuscript onto the table. "Really, Dan, you can do so much better."
I didn't say anything.
"Stop doing that, Dan!"
"What?" I grumped.
"You look like a stroppy teenager. No, worse than that: a two-year-old having a tantrum. Your bottom lip is sticking out. It would be comical if it weren't so sad."
"Why are you so mean?" I asked.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Emily said. "Will you grow up and take the criticism on the chin? Don't ask me to read your bloody book if you don't want me to be honest!"
"Fine," I said, snatching the manuscript from the table and shoving it under my arm. "I'll see you later!"
"Where are you going now?"
"I'm off to rewrite my book."
"No, you're not, Dan! Not now. My parents are coming round for dinner in an hour. You need to shower and perk yourself up. Dad already thinks you're a loser. I'd prefer it if you didn't prove him right!"
...
