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Old 04-15-2015, 08:34 AM View Post #1 (Link) Amy (chapter 2)
Pineappleinshades (Offline)
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Join Date: Feb 2015
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When I let myself in the house that afternoon, mum could tell it hadn’t been a normal day. I was grinning from ear to ear, or so she said.
“What happened?” she asked as soon as I stepped into the kitchen.
“Oh, nothing,” I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. I even began to hum to myself as I stood on tiptoe to reach the biscuit tin hidden away from dad’s greedy fingers in a shadowed corner. I pulled it down.
“Is it a boy?” Mum said, her voice mocking, her tone like she was singing a little kid a nursery rhyme. I flushed and didn’t reply, which gave her completely the wrong impression.
“Oh, it is!” she gasped excitedly.
“Is not. Just shut up mum.” I unscrewed the lid of the tin I was holding and helped myself to a chocolate chip cookie. Bringing it to my nose, I inhaled it’s sickly, chocolatey, wonderful scent. I bit into it, sending the delicious taste tingling over my tongue. The chocolate began to melt, gooey and sweet.
“Good? Granny made them.”
I mumbled my reply, my eyes closed. That was a good cookie.
“So, who is this boy?”
“Shut up! There is no flipping boy!” I snapped.
Silence.
“Sorry mum.”
“That’s okay honey,” she said. Her voice was quiet and small. Quick! Think! I needed to say something which would make it better. The atmosphere in the kitchen was slowly crushing me.
“I made a new friend!” I blurted out. Then added, “That’s all.”
“Well, that’s marvellous honey!” mum said, all smiles again. But these smiles were too big; they looked fake.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “I… Er… yeah.”
Silence. It was better, but the atmosphere was still horribly icy.
“Mum?” I said.
“Yes dear?”
“Can I meet up with her – Amy – after school tomorrow?” I spoke tentatively, still nervous of the coldness between us after my outburst.
“Of course,” she said, “Why not?” She tried to say it airily, but sounded distracted, and I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I could still hear a twinge of hurt in her voice.
I began to apologise again. “Mum, I’m so-”
“I’m going upstairs for a lay down,” she said, and walked out. I sat by myself in the kitchen, feeling separated from my mother, and I hated it. I didn’t want to leave it with that cold, hard tension between us, but what choice did I have? At least I could meet up with Amy. I didn’t need to come straight back home to mum, and the awkward silences we’d been sharing for a long time, too long. We were drifting apart, I could feel it.

“We’re just drifting apart, I can feel it,” I sighed.
Amy and I sat together on top of the brick wall which lined the park, chatting as we watched the little kids playing on the swings, and running around on the grass laughing their heads off.
We sat in silence for a while, just breathing in the cool spring air, scented by the pine trees that stood in clumps around us.
“I was never one of those kids,” I said, gesturing at the children playing in front of us.
“I miss it. The carefree way I lived back then,” she said, “Kinda sad watching them isn’t it?”
“Wishing I was their age again, and playing with them.” I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to her.
“Why didn’t you? Play like that I mean.”
The abruptness of the question startled me, but I composed myself and took a deep breath. “I never had any friends to play with. We moved here when I was about their age. I had a best friend at my old school, Helen she was called. We played together, outside, on the swings in our park. But I never made any new friends her. I was shy, kept to myself. Then when Mellissa started… picking on me, the other kids left me alone. They were scared of her see?”
She nodded, not at all shocked at my confiding in her so suddenly and completely. I sighed. “I was the loner. The kid no-one cared about.”
“I would say I had the same problems,” she grinned, “But I had loads of friends. I mean, everybody liked me. I’m just so likeable I guess.”
I laughed. She knew how to cheer me up. I put my hands either side of me, ready to jump down, but my fingers brushed hers for a moment, and I felt that familiar tingling spike into them and up my arm. I quickly moved my hand away and hopped off the wall, avoiding her gaze. She either didn’t notice, or ignored it, jumping off to land beside me and beginning to walk, talking to me all the while.
“So d’ya wanna come?” she said hopefully.
“Er, sorry what?” I said. I hadn’t really been listening. I had been wondering why every time she touched me my heart began to beat so fast I thought it would explode.
“The party Jake invited me to. You coming or not?”
“A party?” Jake Thomas, the guy every girl in our year had a crush on, had invited Amy to a party? I looked at her and almost laughed. Of course he had. Every time we passed a guy in the corridors, he stared after Amy, almost drooling. But I’d never been to a party before. And Jake’s would be a proper party, with alcohol and slow-dancing and-
“Yeah. You can be my plus one if you want. Aw, please come, I won’t go if you don’t.” She looked at me, her eyes wide and pleading.
“Don’t pull that puppy eyed expression at me,” I grinned. “I’m not falling for it.”
“But I can tell you’re a real party animal really, under the layers of geekiness.”
I spluttered with laughter. “Oh yeah, sure.”
She pulled the face again.
“Fine,” I said. “But it’s your fault if some really gorgeous guy tries to hook up with me. I will hold you fully responsible.”
“I think I can deal with that,” she said, and laughed. Her lips stretched wide to show white teeth, and her green eyes crinkled in the corners.

I didn’t tell mum about the party, because I knew there was no way she would let me go. Instead, I asked if I could meet up with Amy again. She agreed, in the same distracted way she had before.
My ears were far too big, I decided. I was standing in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in my room, staring at myself. It was an hour before the party, my door was tightly shut, and mum thought I was doing homework.
I took out the loose ponytail I had put up five minutes before, and shook my head a few times so my hair fell over my ears. Much better. My eyes travelled down to my dress. Far too babyish, I decided. The light blue colour did not compliment my brown eyes, and the skirt was too long and puffy. I undid the zip and let it fall to the ground, before stepping out of it and kicking it away, onto the pile of other rejected outfits.
I stared at myself in the mirror, in my underwear, a plain white bra and knickers. Spinning slowly around to see my whole body, I sighed as I took in the ugly dark birthmark on my shoulder and the small scar between my shoulder blades. My hand moved to my bum, and my non-existent hips. I slapped my thigh hard, and to my disgust, it wobbled. I was so unfit.
I turned to face the mirror again, striking a pose I had thought would be sexy. God, I looked like a child. Would I ever lose that `puppy fat’? Would my breasts get any bigger? Sighing, I tried to strut over to my wardrobe, but the wiggling of my hips felt silly and duck-like, where it had looked sexy and cool when Amy did it. But then, Amy always looked sexy and cool.
Flinging open the doors, I began to riffle through my clothes. They were all so childish. Why didn’t I have any nice stuff? Looking through my wardrobe made me realise how many pairs of horrible baggy jeans and old t-shirts I had, and how little of anything else. The only other dress I had was a scarlet knee-length thing with black lace around the collar. Mum had bought it for me for a posh dinner in London we had once, before dad got the new job and we basically never saw him again.
Carefully I stepped into it. It felt clingy and soft, and suddenly I felt older and sexier. But when I stood in front of the mirror, I saw that the dress clung too much, accentuated my legs and stomach instead of my hips and breasts as I had hoped. The colour made my skin look ridiculously pale and sickly, and my ankles looked too thick.
I needed to look as if I had given my outfit no thought at all, instead of the hours I had spent in my room staring hopelessly at my reflection. Frustrated, I tugged off the dress and flung in at the pile in the corner, where the blue one I had already rejected lay crumpled and twisted. I turned back to the mirror and flicked my hair over one shoulder. On impulse, I reached for my small selection of jewellery and picked out a beautiful stone pendant in the shape of a spiral that I had never worn. The stone was smooth and cool to my touch, and as my fingers gently moved over the shiny black surface, I knew I should put it on. Slowly, I slipped the leather thong it dangled from over my head, and faced my reflection once more.
Unable to stop myself, I ran my hands over my skin, and began to undo my bra, before pulling the straps off my shoulders. I tried to make my movements flowing and attractive, but I knew I looked stupid. Within minutes, my bra lay on the floor, and seconds later, my knickers were dropped on top of them. I stood in front of my mirror, wearing only the black stone pendant, staring at my own naked body. I cupped my breasts in my hands, before running them down, over my hips and thighs. I was so ugly. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at myself. Why would anyone ever like me? The question, I realised now, had been crashing round and round in my mind for years.
My vision blurred by tears, I glanced at the clock on my bedroom wall, and immediately snapped out of my sorry daze. I had ten minutes to pick an outfit and get to the party. I leapt back into my underwear, before frantically hurrying over to my wardrobe and picking out the nicest jeans, a black, skinny pair. Squeezing myself into them, I scanned the t-shirts for a suitable one. I grabbed a dark blue shirt covered in white polka dots. Shrugging it on and buttoning it up, I ran for the door. The way I moved down the stairs was more of a gallop than a run, taking them two at a time. Glancing in the mirror in the hallway, I realised I had forgotten to put on any make up, considered dashing upstairs and doing it in about ten seconds, and decided to just leave it. I crushed my wide feet into a pair of black flats, called out to mum that I was going out and would be back by midnight, and sprinted out the front door into the darkening evening outside.
I grabbed my bike where it was propped against the wall, straddled it, and began to ride, my feet pumping the pedals faster than I had ever cycled before. Jeez, I thought as I sped through the streets, I really wanna get to this party. I tried to calm my frantic heart, and as it slowed, so did I, figuring it would be okay to be fashionably late.
When I arrived at Jake’s house, the party was already in full swing. Girls in tiny dresses and massive heels teetered towards the door, and I suddenly worried that I was immensely underdressed. I locked up my bike nearby, and headed into the garden, all of a sudden feeling extremely self-conscious. But then I saw Amy.
She stood, leaning against the wall by the door, scanning the swarm making its way towards the house, looking for someone. Me. She was waiting for me. The thought made a mad grin spread itself across my face, and I called out to her, waving wildly. She saw me and smiled back, straightening up and coming over.
“Hey Lauren,” she said, her wonderful accent making the words sound new, like I’d never heard them before. She spoke loudly, so I could hear her over the music blasting out of the door and windows. “Shall we go in?”
I just nodded. I was too overcome by how incredible she looked. She wore a clingy vest top, but unlike how the red dress had clung to all the bulges in my body I didn’t want it to cling to, her top stuck to her skin so that the curve of her waist into her hips was enhanced and gorgeous. The long hippy skirt she was wearing swished and rustled when she moved, its greens and blues matching her eyes perfectly. Tiny glinting mirrors were stitched into the material around the hem, and the effect was of an almost magical glittering, like the kind of skirt a fairy tale princess would wear.
Her dark, wavy hair was tied up in a complex knot at the nape of her neck. In it, jewelled hair slides shone and twinkled when the light bounced off them. One curl of hair had come loose, and hung brushing her cheek, and I watched it dancing as it fluttered in the early evening breeze.
Arm in arm, we entered the party. The hallway was a crush of people chatting and laughing, couples kissing, and groups of teenagers with drinks in hand, daring each other to drink more. An open door on the right led to a large room, filled with music and people dancing. Sofas lined the walls, and the wooden table in the centre was covered in drinks and snacks. We headed for it, and I grabbed a can of coke. Amy snatched a beer, and we sank down onto one of the sofas together. For a few minutes I sipped my drink and just watched the chaos on the makeshift dancefloor.
Everyone dancing looked drunk and wild, but through the tangled hair and sweaty arms raised to the music, they looked like they were enjoying themselves and maybe that’s the main thing.
“Wanna sip?” Amy shouted over the music, holding out her can to me. I looked at it suspiciously, and she laughed, pressing it into my hand. Slowly, I raised it to my lips. Why not? Just one sip. I’d be fine. I took a gulp. It burned my throat and I nearly spat it out.
“Eurgh!” I choked, “That’s awful!”
Amy burst into uncontrollable fits of giggles at my expression, but when I looked at her, she wasn’t laughing at me, and so I laughed too. Through tears of laughter, she offered me another sip, but I shook my head a bit too vigorously. I was never drinking beer again. She just smiled and threw the can to the side, grabbed my hand and led me to the dancefloor. Tingling shot through my hand as it had before, and I protested, but she was stronger, and suddenly I found myself in the midst of the excitement, spinning and raising my arms and jumping with Amy. And I was laughing and grinning as hard as everyone else.
The music was loud, energetic and thundering. I could see Amy’s lips moving, but I couldn’t hear any of what she was saying because of the noise of everything else going on around us. It was the most fun I’d ever had.
Half an hour later, I was coated in sweat, my hair was sticking to my head, and I was exhausted. Amy was tiring too, so she took hold of my hand again, and pulled me behind her upstairs as far from the music as we could get, so although it still throbbed through the walls and floor, we could hear each other speak.
“How are you?” she grinned.
“That was amazing!” I said, “But I must look awful now.” I ran a hand through my sticky hair.
“No,” she said quietly, “You look as beautiful as ever. I told you you were a party animal!”
As beautiful as ever? I was quiet for a moment, thinking about what she had said.
“Come on,” she said, and dragged me into the closest room to us. It wasn’t big, but it was spacious, the only furniture being a large wardrobe in the corner, and a made bed across the room from us. For some reason my heart began to pound then. A bed. Amy closed the door and leaned against it, breathing deeply.
“That was some dancing my little part animal,” she said.
“Thanks.” I stepped closer towards her, heart thumping. She straightened, and looked me in the eye. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Then, in one movement she stepped towards me and kissed me, pressing her lips against mine and pressing me into the wall. My eyes widened in shock, but as she kissed me, I felt them close, and myself kiss her back. The tingling I had felt before now shot through me like an electric current, buzzing in my bloodstream and burning my skin.
She tasted like mint and alcohol, a combination you wouldn’t think would be attractive, but was. God, it really was.
She pulled away and looked at me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “God, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I reached out until I had grasped her shoulders in my hands, and I pulled her against me again. This time I kissed her. Her hands laced together at the back of my neck, and she pulled me even closer. My hands pressed against the wall, fingers splayed. Hers moved from my neck to my shoulders and along my arms to my wrists, which she pulled above my head. I was trapped, pressed to the wall with my arms above my head, but I wasn’t complaining. My heart was beating so hard in my chest I felt sure she must be able to hear it. I didn’t care.
Her lips were soft and warm, and I just wanted to keep on kissing them for minutes on end. So I did. We stayed there until I glanced at the clock at around eleven and told her I should leave.
“Okay,” she said, and pulled me towards her for one last kiss. As she did so, footsteps sounded along the corridor and Amy opened the door a crack to peer out. Her eyes widened. “Oh God,” she said, “It’s Jake. He’s coming right for us. This must be his room!”
My hands flew to my mouth, and my eyes darted around the room for an escape route. They stopped briefly on the window, but it was shut, and Jake was getting closer fast. Amy ran to the wardrobe, dragged open the doors and beckoned for me to follow. I climbed inside with her, and we pulled the doors closed, leaving only a crack through which I could see the door into the room open and Jake run in.
I turned away from the gap, to Amy, and began to laugh, softly and silently. We were pressed together in very little space, sharing the same air. I could feel her breath hot against my cheek. Raising my face to hers, I kissed her again, a long lingering kiss, soft and gentle. When we broke apart, I pressed my eye back to the gap to see what Jake was doing.
His normally carefully styled hair was scruffy and sticking up. He had a can of beer in one hand, and was rummaging through the mess on his desk with the other. Whatever he was trying to find, he wanted it urgently. He obviously didn’t find it, because he began going through the drawers next, more and more frantically.
“What’s he looking f-” I began in a hushed voice, but Amy put a finger to my lips to silence me.
“Shh.”
Finally, he found it, muttered a victorious `yes’ and ran from the room. In his sweaty hand, I saw the flash of a packet of some kind. Then I saw the writing on it, and it was all I could do not to erupt into laughter until he had left the room. When I was sure he was gone, and I couldn’t hold it in any more, the giggles burst out of me in a stream, and I let them.
“Did you see what he was looking for?” I said, between snorts of laughter and gasps for air. Amy shook her head. She climbed out of the wardrobe and I followed.
“He certainly wanted it pretty bad though.”
It was several minutes before I could speak again. “It was… He was looking for… Condoms!”
Amy didn’t look at all surprised, as if she had suspected it all along, but she started to smile too, and it was past midnight when she kissed me goodbye. As I cycled back, I knew I had a soppy grin plastered across my face.
Mum was sitting stiffly in the lounge when I got back.
“Hey, I’m back,” I called to her as I let myself in.
“Back late,” she said, staring pointedly at the clock, where the time read as 12:30pm.
“Oh come on!” I said, “Half an hour! Give me a break.”
“I was sitting here worrying because you said you would be back before midnight.” Her voice was taught, and there was the icy tension between us again. I wasn’t going to win the argument and I knew it.
Sighing, I said, “Sorry mum. Won’t happen again. Promise.”
Mum huffed a reply.
“You know most kids stay out hours later than they said they would. I’m half a freaking hour late and you’re in a grudge with me for a year.”
Mum didn’t reply to that. I gritted my teeth and stomped out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. To my horror, I heard the distinct sound of mum crying downstairs. I changed quickly and crawled into bed, pulling the cover up to my ears to shut out the noise. It was no good.
It was hours before it finally stopped and I drifted off to sleep.
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Old 04-19-2015, 05:31 AM View Post #2 (Link)
runnerzero (Offline)
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Join Date: Feb 2015
Location: California, US
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When I let myself in the house that afternoon, mum could tell it hadn’t been a normal day. I was grinning from ear to ear, or so she said. Don't just tell us that her mother could tell. Show us how your character knows your mother can tell. Look for physical actions to hint at the fact that her mother knows, something in your characters or your mother's demeanor
“What happened?” she asked as soon as I stepped into the kitchen.
“Oh, nothing,” I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. I even began to hum to myself as I stood on tiptoe to reach the biscuit tin hidden away from dad’s greedy fingers in a shadowed corner. I pulled it down. this is unnecessary, as by saying she reached for it, the readers already know she's taking it down to get a cookie
“Is it a boy?” Mum said, her voice mocking, her tone like she was singing a little kid a nursery rhyme. I'd probably use the term 'sing song'. The simile feels a little long and excessive I flushed and didn’t reply, which gave her completely the wrong impression.
“Oh, it is!” she gasped excitedly.
“Is not. Just shut up mum.” I unscrewed the lid of the tin I was holding and helped myself to a chocolate chip cookie. Bringing it to my nose, I inhaled it’s sickly, sickly is a negative word. It describes an unpleasant or nauseating smell. I hope your cookies are not sickly, or I don't think your character would want to eat them chocolatey, wonderful scent. I bit into it, sending the delicious taste tingling over my tongue. The chocolate began to melt, gooey and sweet.
“Good? Granny made them.”
I mumbled my reply, my eyes closed. That was a good cookie. You've already implied that it's a good cookie. No need to repeat it again
“So, who is this boy?”
“Shut up! There is no flipping boy!” I snapped.
Silence.
“Sorry mum.”
“That’s okay honey,” she said. Her voice was quiet and small. Quick! Think! I needed to say something which would make it better. The atmosphere in the kitchen was slowly crushing me.
“I made a new friend!” I blurted out. Then added, “That’s all.”
“Well, that’s marvellous honey!” mum said, all smiles again. But these smiles were too big; they looked fake. 'All smiles again' still works. But the second part, I'd use just the singular 'smile'. Her smile was too big and looked fake. Otherwise it sounds like she's smiling multiple times at once
“Yeah,” I agreed, “I… Er… yeah.”
Silence. It was better, but the atmosphere was still horribly icy.
“Mum?” I said.
“Yes dear?”
“Can I meet up with her – Amy – after school tomorrow?” I spoke tentatively, still nervous of the coldness between us after my outburst.
“Of course,” she said, “Why not?” She tried to say it airily, but sounded distracted, and I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I could still hear a twinge of hurt in her voice.
I began to apologise again. “Mum, I’m so-”
“I’m going upstairs for a lay down,” she said, and walked out. I sat by myself in the kitchen, feeling separated from my mother, and I hated it. I didn’t want to leave it with that cold, hard tension between us, but what choice did I have? At least I could meet up with Amy. I didn’t need to come straight back home to mum, and the awkward silences we’d been sharing for a long time, too long. We were drifting apart, I could feel it.
This is a good set up for tension later

“We’re just drifting apart, I can feel it,” I sighed.
Amy and I sat together on top of the brick wall which lined the park, chatting as we watched the little kids playing on the swings, and running around on the grass laughing their heads off.
We sat in silence for a while, Did Amy not respond to this? She just admitted something pretty heavy, and Amy just sits there in silence? just breathing in the cool spring air, scented by the pine trees that stood in clumps around us.
“I was never one of those kids,” I said, gesturing at the children playing in front of us.
“I miss it. The carefree way I lived back then,” she said, “Kinda sad watching them isn’t it?”
“Wishing I was their age again, and playing with them.” I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to her.
“Why didn’t you? Play like that I mean.”
The abruptness of the question startled me, but I composed myself and took a deep breath. “I never had any friends to play with. We moved here when I was about their age. I had a best friend at my old school, Helen she was called. We played together, outside, on the swings in our park. But I never made any new friends her. I was shy, kept to myself. Then when Mellissa started… picking on me, the other kids left me alone. They were scared of her see?” That last sentence is phrased a little strangely. Maybe just leave it as a statement and leave out the 'see'
She nodded, not at all shocked at my confiding in her so suddenly and completely. I sighed. “I was the loner. The kid no-one cared about.”
“I would say I had the same problems,” she grinned, “But I had loads of friends. I mean, everybody liked me. I’m just so likeable I guess.” That doesn't sound very funny. Maybe find some other joke for her to make, just to lighten the pressure. But this sounds rather rude, kind of like she's mocking your character.
I laughed. She knew how to cheer me up. I put my hands either side of me, ready to jump down, but my fingers brushed hers for a moment, and I felt that familiar tingling spike into them and up my arm. I quickly moved my hand away and hopped off the wall, avoiding her gaze. She either didn’t notice, or ignored it, jumping off to land beside me and beginning to walk, talking to me all the while.
“So d’ya wanna come?” she said hopefully.
“Er, sorry what?” I said. I hadn’t really been listening. I had been wondering why every time she touched me my heart began to beat so fast I thought it would explode.
“The party Jake invited me to. You coming or not?”
“A party?” Jake Thomas, the guy every girl in our year had a crush on, had invited Amy to a party? I looked at her and almost laughed. Of course he had. Every time we passed a guy in the corridors, he stared after Amy, almost drooling. But I’d never been to a party before. And Jake’s would be a proper party, with alcohol and slow-dancing and-
“Yeah. You can be my plus one if you want. Aw, please come, I won’t go if you don’t.” She looked at me, her eyes wide and pleading.
“Don’t pull that puppy eyed expression at me,” I grinned. “I’m not falling for it.”
“But I can tell you’re a real party animal really, under the layers of geekiness.”
I spluttered with laughter. “Oh yeah, sure.”
She pulled the face again.
“Fine,” I said. “But it’s your fault if some really gorgeous guy tries to hook up with me. I will hold you fully responsible.”
“I think I can deal with that,” she said, and laughed. Her lips stretched wide to show white teeth, and her green eyes crinkled in the corners. I get that this description of her is something you want to be a part of how your character sees Amy, and that this is something she does often. If it was simpler, like wringing her hands or blinking a lot, then it would be okay to repeat. But this is a long description. Which isn't bad, but it means you'll have to mix up the sentence structure. Don't use the same description every time you mention it. Find synonyms and other ways to say it, just so that it doesn't get repetitive.

I didn’t tell mum about the party, because I knew there was no way she would let me go. Instead, I asked if I could meet up with Amy again. She agreed, in the same distracted way she had before. I'd suggest leaving this piece out. The transition from telling her mother straight to looking at herself in the mirror is too abrupt and doesn't flow. I'd suggest trying to incorporate the fact that your character lied to her mother later in the story, maybe as she's leaving or coming back.
My ears were far too big, I decided. I was standing in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in my room, staring at myself. It was an hour before the party, my door was tightly shut, and mum thought I was doing homework.
I took out the loose ponytail I had put up five minutes before, and shook my head a few times so my hair fell over my ears. Much better. My eyes travelled down to my dress. Far too babyish, I decided. The light blue colour did not 'didn't' would probably work better compliment my brown eyes, and the skirt was too long and puffy. I undid the zip and let it fall to the ground, before stepping out of it and kicking it away, onto the pile of other rejected outfits.
I stared at myself in the mirror, in my underwear, a plain white bra and knickers. Spinning slowly around to see my whole body, I sighed as I took in the ugly dark birthmark on my shoulder and the small scar between my shoulder blades. My hand moved to my bum, and my non-existent hips. I slapped my thigh hard, and to my disgust, it wobbled. I was so unfit.
I turned to face the mirror again, striking a pose I had thought would be sexy. God, I looked like a child. Would I ever lose that `puppy fat’? Would my breasts get any bigger? Sighing, I tried to strut over to my wardrobe, but the wiggling of my hips felt silly and duck-like, where it had looked sexy and cool when Amy did it. But then, Amy always looked sexy and cool.
Flinging open the doors, I began to riffle through my clothes. They were all so childish. Why didn’t I have any nice stuff? Looking through my wardrobe made me realise how many pairs of horrible baggy jeans and old t-shirts I had, and how little of anything else. The only other dress I had was a scarlet knee-length thing with black lace around the collar. Mum had bought it for me for a posh dinner in London we had once, before dad got the new job and we basically never saw him again.
Carefully I stepped into it. It felt clingy and soft, and suddenly I felt older and sexier. But when I stood in front of the mirror, I saw that the dress clung too much, accentuated my legs and stomach instead of my hips and breasts as I had hoped. The colour made my skin look ridiculously pale and sickly, and my ankles looked too thick.
I needed to look as if I had given my outfit no thought at all, instead of the hours I had spent in my room staring hopelessly at my reflection. Frustrated, I tugged off the dress and flung in at the pile in the corner, where the blue one I had already rejected lay crumpled and twisted. I turned back to the mirror and flicked my hair over one shoulder. On impulse, I reached for my small selection of jewellery and picked out a beautiful stone pendant in the shape of a spiral that I had never worn. The stone was smooth and cool to my touch, and as my fingers gently moved over the shiny black surface, I knew I should put it on. Slowly, I slipped the leather thong it dangled from over my head, and faced my reflection once more.
Unable to stop myself, I ran my hands over my skin, and began to undo my bra, before pulling the straps off my shoulders. I tried to make my movements flowing and attractive, but I knew I looked stupid. Within minutes, my bra lay on the floor, and seconds later, my knickers were dropped on top of them. I stood in front of my mirror, wearing only the black stone pendant, staring at my own naked body. I cupped my breasts in my hands, before running them down, over my hips and thighs. I was so ugly. Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at myself. Why would anyone ever like me? The question, I realised now, had been crashing round and round in my mind for years.
My vision blurred by tears, I glanced at the clock on my bedroom wall, and immediately snapped out of my sorry daze. I had ten minutes to pick an outfit and get to the party. I leapt back into my underwear, before frantically hurrying over to my wardrobe and picking out the nicest jeans, a black, skinny pair. Squeezing myself into them, I scanned the t-shirts for a suitable one. I grabbed a dark blue shirt covered in white polka dots. Shrugging it on and buttoning it up, I ran for the door. The way I moved down the stairs was more of a gallop than a run, taking them two at a time. Glancing in the mirror in the hallway, I realised I had forgotten to put on any make up, considered dashing upstairs and doing it in about ten seconds, and decided to just leave it. I crushed my wide feet into a pair of black flats, called out to mum that I was going out and would be back by midnight, and sprinted out the front door into the darkening evening outside. Right here your character explains where she's going to her mother. You can take out the paragraph above
I grabbed my bike where it was propped against the wall, watch the unnecessary details straddled it, and began to ride, my feet pumping the pedals faster than I had ever cycled before. Jeez, I thought as I sped through the streets, I really wanna get to this party. Be sure to italicize direct thoughts I tried to calm my frantic heart, and as it slowed, so did I, figuring it would be okay to be fashionably late.
When I arrived at Jake’s house, the party was already in full swing. Girls in tiny dresses and massive heels teetered towards the door, and I suddenly worried that I was immensely underdressed. I locked up my bike nearby, and headed into the garden, all of a sudden feeling extremely self-conscious. But then I saw Amy.
She stood, leaning against the wall by the door, scanning the swarm making its way towards the house, looking for someone. Me. She was waiting for me. The thought made a mad grin spread itself across my face, and I called out to her, waving wildly. She saw me and smiled back, straightening up and coming over.
“Hey Lauren,” she said, her wonderful accent making the words sound new, like I’d never heard them before. She spoke loudly, so I could hear her over the music blasting out of the door and windows. “Shall we go in?”
I just nodded. I was too overcome by how incredible she looked. She wore a clingy vest top, but unlike how the red dress had clung to all the bulges in my body I didn’t want it to cling to, her top stuck to her skin so that the curve of her waist into her hips was enhanced and gorgeous. The long hippy skirt she was wearing swished and rustled when she moved, its greens and blues matching her eyes perfectly. Tiny glinting mirrors were stitched into the material around the hem, and the effect was of an almost magical glittering, like the kind of skirt a fairy tale princess would wear.
Her dark, wavy hair was tied up in a complex knot at the nape of her neck. In it, jewelled hair slides shone and twinkled when the light bounced off them. One curl of hair had come loose, and hung brushing her cheek, and I watched it dancing as it fluttered in the early evening breeze.
Arm in arm, we entered the party. The hallway was a crush of people chatting and laughing, couples kissing, and groups of teenagers with drinks in hand, daring each other to drink more. An open door on the right led to a large room, filled with music and people dancing. Sofas lined the walls, and the wooden table in the centre was covered in drinks and snacks. We headed for it, and I grabbed a can of coke. Amy snatched a beer, and we sank down onto one of the sofas together. For a few minutes I sipped my drink and just watched the chaos on the makeshift dancefloor.
Everyone dancing looked drunk and wild, but through the tangled hair and sweaty arms raised to the music, they looked like they were enjoying themselves and maybe that’s the main thing. this is unnecessary and interrupts the flow
“Wanna sip?” Amy shouted over the music, holding out her can to me. I looked at it suspiciously, and she laughed, pressing it into my hand. Slowly, I raised it to my lips. Why not? Just one sip. I’d be fine. I took a gulp. This part feels slightly awkward. Try describing the burning without using 'it', as that doesn't quite flow as well with the rest of the paragraph It burned my throat and I nearly spat it out.
“Eurgh!” I choked, “That’s awful!”
Amy burst into uncontrollable fits of giggles at my expression, but when I looked at her, she wasn’t laughing at me, and so I laughed too. Through tears of laughter, she offered me another sip, but I shook my head a bit too vigorously. I was never drinking beer again. She just smiled and threw the can to the side, I think she'd put the can down. that's kind of a waste of beer grabbed my hand and led me to the dancefloor. Tingling shot through my hand as it had before, and I protested, but she was stronger, and suddenly I found myself in the midst of the excitement, spinning and raising my arms and jumping with Amy. And I was laughing and grinning as hard as everyone else.
The music was loud, energetic and thundering. I could see Amy’s lips moving, but I couldn’t hear any of what she was saying because of the noise of everything else going on around us. It was the most fun I’d ever had.
Half an hour later, I was coated in sweat, my hair was sticking to my head, and I was exhausted. Amy was tiring too, so she took hold of my hand again, and pulled me behind her upstairs as far from the music as we could get, so although it still throbbed through the walls and floor, we could hear each other speak.
“How are you?” she grinned.
“That was amazing!” I said, “But I must look awful now.” I ran a hand through my sticky hair.
“No,” she said quietly, “You look as beautiful as ever. I told you you were a party animal!”
As beautiful as ever? I was quiet for a moment, thinking about what she had said.
“Come on,” she said, and dragged me into the closest room to us. It wasn’t big, but it was spacious, the only furniture being a large wardrobe in the corner, and a made bed across the room from us. For some reason my heart began to pound then. A bed. Amy closed the door and leaned against it, breathing deeply.
“That was some dancing my little part animal,” she said.
“Thanks.” I stepped closer towards her, heart thumping. She straightened, and looked me in the eye. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Then, in one movement she stepped towards me and kissed me, pressing her lips against mine and pressing me into the wall. My eyes widened in shock, but as she kissed me, I felt them close, and myself kiss her back. The tingling I had felt before now shot through me like an electric current, buzzing in my bloodstream and burning my skin.
She tasted like mint and alcohol, a combination you wouldn’t think would be attractive, but was. God, it really was.
She pulled away and looked at me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “God, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I reached out until I had grasped her shoulders in my hands, and I pulled her against me again. This time I kissed her. Her hands laced together at the back of my neck, and she pulled me even closer. My hands pressed against the wall, fingers splayed. I would suggest leaving this out. There's a lot of action being described here, and it's easy to get lost. This particular action has the least importance to what's happening in the scene, so I'd suggest cutting it Hers moved from my neck to my shoulders and along my arms to my wrists, which she pulled above my head. I was trapped, pressed to the wall with my arms above my head, but I wasn’t complaining. My heart was beating so hard in my chest I felt sure she must be able to hear it. I didn’t care.
Her lips were soft and warm, and I just wanted to keep on kissing them for minutes on end. So I did. We stayed there until I glanced at the clock at around eleven and told her I should leave. Actually have her break away and say she wants to leave. Otherwise it feels too rushed
“Okay,” she said, and pulled me towards her for one last kiss. As she did so, footsteps sounded along the corridor and Amy opened the door a crack to peer out. Her eyes widened. “Oh God,” she said, “It’s Jake. He’s coming right for us. This must be his room!”
My hands flew to my mouth, and my eyes darted around the room for an escape route. They stopped briefly on the window, but it was shut, and Jake was getting closer fast. Amy ran to the wardrobe, dragged open the doors and beckoned for me to follow. I climbed inside with her, and we pulled the doors closed, leaving only a crack through which I could see the door into the room open and Jake run in.
I turned away from the gap, to Amy, and began to laugh, softly and silently. We were pressed together in very little space, sharing the same air. I could feel her breath hot against my cheek. Raising my face to hers, I kissed her again, a long lingering kiss, soft and gentle. When we broke apart, I pressed my eye back to the gap to see what Jake was doing.
His normally carefully styled hair was scruffy and sticking up. He had a can of beer in one hand, and was rummaging through the mess on his desk with the other. Whatever he was trying to find, he wanted it urgently. He obviously didn’t find it, because he began going through the drawers next, more and more frantically. I'd also suggest leaving this out, just to keep things fast paced and moving quickly
“What’s he looking f-” I began in a hushed voice, but Amy put a finger to my lips to silence me.
“Shh.”
Finally, he found it, muttered a victorious `yes’ and ran from the room. In his sweaty hand, I saw the flash of a packet of some kind. Then I saw the writing on it, and it was all I could do not to erupt into laughter until he had left the room. When I was sure he was gone, and I couldn’t hold it in any more, the giggles burst out of me in a stream, and I let them.
“Did you see what he was looking for?” I said, between snorts of laughter and gasps for air. Amy shook her head. She climbed out of the wardrobe and I followed.
“He certainly wanted it pretty bad though.”
It was several minutes before I could speak again. “It was… He was looking for… Condoms!” If she's stuttering, I would probably use - instead of ...
Amy didn’t look at all surprised, as if she had suspected it all along, but she started to smile too, split these two sentences. Otherwise it gets really rushed and it was past midnight when she kissed me goodbye. As I cycled back, I knew I had a soppy grin plastered across my face.
Mum was sitting stiffly in the lounge when I got back.
“Hey, I’m back,” I called to her as I let myself in.
“Back late,” she said, staring pointedly at the clock, where the time read as 12:30pm.
“Oh come on!” I said, “Half an hour! Give me a break.”
“I was sitting here worrying because you said you would be back before midnight.” Her voice was taught, and there was the icy tension between us again. I wasn’t going to win the argument and I knew it.
Sighing, I said, “Sorry mum. Won’t happen again. Promise.”
Mum huffed a reply. Just leave it at "Mum huffed." and then bring the dialogue up to the same line
“You know most kids stay out hours later than they said they would. I’m half a freaking hour late and you’re in a grudge with me for a year.” The last part doesn't really make sense. What do you mean 'in a grudge with me for a year"? She was late just now, does she mean that her mother is going to have a grudge on her for a year? Find a way to reword this so that it's less confusing
Mum didn’t reply to that. I gritted my teeth and stomped out of the room and up the stairs to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Slow this down. It's too rushed. First describe the crying, then describe her reaction to it. To my horror, I heard the distinct sound of mum crying downstairs. I changed quickly and crawled into bed, pulling the cover up to my ears to shut out the noise. It was no good.
It was hours before it finally stopped and I drifted off to sleep.

This is a good continuation, and we had some solid characterization for Amy and Lauren. For the most part, your prose is good, although there are some awkward sounding sentences. My best suggestion would be to work on making your dialogue sound more natural, as well as slowing the pacing down. Most of it, the pacing is great. Not too slow and not too fast. There are some parts where you just immediately skip to the next part, as if you're impatient to get there. Remember to slow it down enough that there's a believable transition to every new segment. But, of course, be sure to keep it clear of unnecessary details.
Which brings me to my next point. A lot of times your writing gets slowed down by details or actions that aren't very important to the plot. Some details are important to keep in, such as setting scenery or even characterization. Just keep in mind the times when you have to evaluate each sentence and decide whether it's moving the story forward in some way, or whether it's just becoming too much. If the sentence isn't doing anything for your story, you'll have to cut it.
All in all, it was a great chapter, and I can't wait to read what happens next. Great job and keep writing!
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