Help! Need a dead-ringer for life (: Also review my story please?

Question

My life. I can think of a million words to describe it, but one is only a dead-ringer for it. [INSERT DEAD-RINGER]

You see, I get gossiped about and come home to a mother who is sleeping on the couch with a bottle of whisky cradled in her pudgy arms.

I’m not a geek – I’m just different. I don’t strive for attention, but I do stand out.

I am 5’8”, lanky, and sort of a Goth. Well, I have my own style actually. I usually wear black converse that go up to my knees, my yellow and blue striped tights, and a shirt that says, “I’M NOT A DRUGGIE” or some shirt that people raise their eyebrows about. To accompany my look I usually have bed head and a few dozen bangles.

I know what you are thinking, “Who is she?” If you haven’t guessed already, I am a classic teenager. Haha, right. My name is Peps. It’s a cool name, I actually like it. Who wouldn’t? Well, Brenda Anderson might not.

It all started on a Tuesday morning in New York City, the big apple. I came to school like I usually did, sort of sullen and half-awake. I dodged the principal and scrambled for my locker combination written on a coffee-stained piece of paper in my beat-up old backpack. I found it, whipped it out, and opened my locker. Grabbing my books, I walked to my first period class.

When I entered the teacher was not on her usual perch in front of the class, staring at us; she was no-where to be found. “Yes!” I said, under my breath. I hadn’t finished my home work last night, and it was great time to catch up. Unfortunately, Brenda didn’t agree. She grabbed my head and pulled it up.


“Hey gothy. Whatcha ya doin’?”

“Shut up Brenda, I’ve got to finish something.”

“What something?” She spit the words out with a trail of saliva.

“Get out of my face,” I said, my voice hard.

She looked like she was about to slap me, but I knew she wouldn’t. Did I forget to mention I am on the competitive soccer team and I mastered a mean right hook? Well I am, and I did.


I continued doing my homework. When I had finished the first section, I felt a jab in my leg. I turned around, and gave a fierce glare to a member of the REC club. The REC club is basically a “hang out” club. You only get in if you sweet-talk Ms. Eraton, the History teacher for the freshmen. It also helps if you give her a snickers bar and some mountain dew.

All of the sudden we heard footsteps. I looked up. Standing at the threshold was Mr. Hottie Mc Latti, as the girls called him. I heard silent swooning around me, and rolled my eyes in disgust. Jake had basically the prime make-ups of a popular: athletic, handsome, fearless, and all of that other stuff you want. Except maybe: dumb as dirt. He said that he didn’t need good grades because he was getting a scholarship for his extremely talented body. Ha! I doubt he would get into a good college, much less the ivy-league one I was applying for.

He walked by me, oblivious to what I thought about him. I guess he thought all of the girls loved him. Not quite.

Ms. Henry sauntered into the class looking quite baggy under the eyes and a little persnickety.

“Open up your textbooks, it is time to begin Geometry,” she said.

“Uh, I forgot my text-,” rang a voice that happened to be Jake’s.

He hadn’t even finished the sentence when 20+ textbooks landed on his desk.

“Thanks,” he said, winking at the girl closest toward him.

“Can I continue?” She glared at us.

I guess it was a rhetorical question, because no one answered. They all continued to stare at her.

But before she had a chance to continue, the vice principal walked in with his crisp “uniform”, a coat, tie, dress shirt, khaki pants, and shiny shoes.

“Excuse me, but I need to talk to Ms. Henry,” he said, his eyes darting around the room.

“Ye-ye-yes sir,” stammered our teacher.

She was lead out of the room and we sat in hushed silence. We could barely hear their voices and they were only murmurs. After about 5 minutes Vice Principal Howard came back into the classroom.

“You will receive a new Geometry teacher in the next week. You will spend the rest of your classes in the library classroom with Mrs. Nofs.”

The bell rang, and we all filed out of the classroom, wondering what Ms. Henry had done.

END OF CHAPTER 1!
~

What word should I put for a dead-ringer? I have no idea. Also what do you think about my story.
I am a 7th grader. (:

Additional Details

Thanks so much for you input (baby).
I just re-read it and haven't edited it since 6th grade, may I send you the edited copy to see what you think? This copy was really rough.

Answer 1

Best Answer - Chosen by Asker

This is very decent for a seventh grader but very tough to keep reading, also theres nothing new or original about being goth, lanky, playing soccer, having a mean hook, or dressing the way you do. Sorry you just described a third of the teenagers in any town since 20 years ago.


I guess its true that teenagers always think they are doing something new, when in fact it has been going on for a long time and is "old hat" to older people. I dont want to discourage you though keep writing. You will eventually have story thats worth telling.

Continued.....
Sure

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Asker's Comment:

I don't have enough characters, turn on your mail so I can mail it to you?