Chapter one
I stared at the mirror; I was in awe as I craned my head around and around. Maybe it was a piece of dirt on the polished metal, but it could not be what I thought it was. My index finger rose slowly to the spot, ever so gently I poked it. Yes, it was what I dread since I turned 12, a small, usually inflammatory swelling or elevation of the skin. In other words, it was a pimple. A blemish, a zit, a puss filled bubble, what ever you wanna call it. A huge urge pushed me to pop it, I couldn’t! It would leave a forever lasting scar. My eyes glanced at the clock 7:00 AM, one hour to get ready for school and I was still in my satin jammies. But the pimple! What was I gonna do with it? I can’t just leave it, sitting on my face flaunting itself for everyone to see. School! SCHOOL! That was the only word that I forced myself to think about. As I frowned sadly in the mirror, I shifted the pimple problem in the hidden corners of my head.
Hastily I rushed into my walk-in closet, another big problem struck up. Skinny jeans and a casual Hollister sweater called out to me saying “I’m the one you want for today”. However, an aeropostale floral camisole and a miniskirt cried out “Please pick me!” I scrunched my face, what was I going to pick? Usually this dilemma pops up everyday, although on those days I’m fresh and awake at 6:00. Deciding to wait until after breakfast, I speed walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. There was my mom, watching food network as she flipped waffles. I pulled out an oak chair and sat down. That’s when my mom noticed me. “Adrienne Monroe! Do you know how late you are!?” total shock plastered on her face in a terrified expression. “Hurry up with breakfast” I grumbled. Should I show her what made me so late this morning? She shook her head and mumbled something inaudible as she transferred the waffles from her pan to my plate. I took a sudden interest on the design on my plate, not daring to look my mother in the eye. She took me by surprise as she took my oval shaped head in her hands. Her eyes searching my face, then she saw the bump on my forehead.
“Oh, honey. Is this what you were so grumpy about?” and there it was, the other side of my mom, the part of her that was pure love and compassion. I nodded my head, and sniffed. I ate my waffles in silence as she went up the stairs, disappearing in her bedroom. I chose the mahogany Hollister sweater and dark skinny jeans. My backpack hung loosely on one shoulder and before I left my room I flashed a pearly smile and puckered my lips. Just as I opened the front door my mother gave me a peck on my cheek and off to high school I go. Maple leaf high school was only a block away, and right next door to my house was my best friend, Lucinda. I knocked on the beige door and she appeared like magic. We both giggled and walked to school together.
Lucinda and I have been BFF’s ever since she offered me a chocolate chip cookie in kindergarten. I complained about the pimple on my forehead and she reassured me that everything was going to be fine. Together we entered homeroom with Mrs. Nickelson; I noticed a tan girl with a shy face, she twisting her fingers into tight knots. All the boys in my class gawked at her; for once there was someone prettier than me. She had bright pink lips that complemented her skin tone, and beautiful blonde curls cascaded down from her heart shaped head. A very curvy body covered by knee length jean Bermuda shorts and a plain white tank top, with ballet flats to top it all off.
Lucinda gave me a worried look and I gave an evil eye at the new girl. She gave a nervous wave and looked away. Oh yah she better have looked away. But compare me to her. We had the same tan skin, same lean but toned body and same great taste in style. The only difference was the hair and apparently, it made her look more glamorous than me. Stupid blonde hair, I wanted to take some scissors and just cut her hair off. I grabbed a lock of my red and blond hair and started at it. Was it as good as hers?
I guess not, even the guys who play Yu-gi-oh and never pay attention to me, or girls by that matter, were staring at the new girl. I scowled at them and Lucinda and I took our seats. Mrs. Nickelson cleared her throat and everyone sat down and she began to speak. “Hello everyone this is Megan Stewart and she is a transfer student from Florida. I hope you all make her feel welcome.” She then pointed at an empty seat next to me and Megan came over to sit. Oh no, you have got to be kidding me. I am not sitting next to this Megan girl, but I knew I had to. Lucinda patted my shoulder. Megan sat down and gave a weak smile toward me. I crinkled my nose, she smelled like lavender. I hate lavender; well I used to love it, until Megan arrived.
The bell rang and I left in haste, leaving Lucinda scurrying to keep up with me. Lucinda is very lean and sort of uncoordinated with spider like legs. Thin brown hair and brown eyes with pale skin. I a
Shorten your paragraphs. This will appeal to younger kids. And no need to keep mentioning Brand names. It will not carry over in future years. Cut some of that out.
Why all of the stuff with colours of hair? Seems redundant.
Otherwise good, cute stuff.
Happy writing! 
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