Young Writers Society

***

What do you fear the most?

Before, I would have written ‘fear itself’, if I wanted to sound smart, you know, quoting someone important. Or, if I was feeling average, I would write – spiders, horror movies – something clichéd and nestled well into the realm of acceptability. But not now. Now, before I decide to lie, I write one word in script so tiny your eyes want it to disappear.

Flesh.

* * *

The day it started really wasn’t unlike any other day that week, that month, even that year. Nothing unspeakably horrible happened, no one called me fat. I didn’t eat too much – actually, I had hardly eaten anything that day, and was feeling rather proud of myself despite the hunger coalescing in my insides.

“Ohmigod though, Beth and Alex are just so cute together.” We – the rest of the eight graders and I - were walking towards the park, successfully managing to piss off everyone on the street who was unfortunate enough to be outside at that time. An elderly woman shot my best friend, Lena, a dirty look as she crawled by, hands clamped into claws around the bags she was carrying. Lena ignored her or just didn’t notice – it’s always hard to tell which – and continued her observation of the two students walking slightly ahead of the group, hand in hand.

“They really are though,” I said, feeling, as usual, the stirrings of jealousy at the sight of them, so perfect together; everything they did was so seamless, so coordinated. Not jealous of Beth for having Alex – sure, he was nice, and a good friend, but just … not my type. Speaking of that, where is your type, anyway?

Nowhere to be seen. Trying not to feel disappointment was – still is – like trying to push waves back out to sea. So I turned away from the ocean and looked instead at Lena, who, like me, had eyes full of envy. “I can see you and Chase being like that,” I only half-teased. So what if he didn’t like her? Yet. They would look great together. Oh, and if you’re thinking that Chase is some kind of pretty-boy, Disney-looking type like his name might suggest, you’re very wrong. I used to like him, actually, and I can still remember the disgusting longing with which my eyes took in his wheat-blonde hair, bittersweet chocolate eyes – you know, the expensive kind that’s like seventy-percent cocoa – and long, lounging body.

Lena looked half-pleased, half-irritated. “You know he likes Tanya. And her giant boobs.” Her eyes, which I have always envied because they are as clear and pure as raindrops, were cast down as she took in her A36 chest with a mixture of disgust and sadness.

“He doesn’t like her,” I said with exaggerated reasonableness. “What he feels for Tanya and her, well, assets is nothing more than the shallow and, sadly typical lust that many beings with a Y chromosome experience for those without one.”

She rolled her eyes as she always did when I started trying to talk like a smart person, and finger-combed her glossy dyed-black hair. “Whatever. All I know is he isn’t feeling that typical lust for me.”

I had nothing to say to that – after all, it was the same for me. My own abysmal chest, a size A38 to date, certainly wasn’t the subject of anyone’s lust. Not that things like that are all that matters, but still.

After that, our conversation continued normally – Mrs. Te is such a bitch, I wish Dylan were taller ‘cause he would be so hot if he wasn’t so short, what are you doing this weekend. At least, it was normal until we saw Chase walking up from the park. Lena froze, her gaze shattering into a million directions at once. “Chill,” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Nono, my hair – my legs … " Her voice was beginning to rise in what I knew would be a near-hysterical wail. I glared at her, twirling my own honey-coloured strands between my fingers.

“Your hair,” I said firmly, “is fine.” And I wasn’t lying, either; she had straightened it into a smooth, glossy sheet. I wasn’t even going to get started on her legs. They were what I envied most about her: as long as a model’s, and as skinny, too. I looked down at my own legs, which were long, I suppose, but too muscular to be skinny.

Lena made an unconvinced noise and continued her observation of the pavement. I rolled my eyes at her and started a conversation with Rowan, a friend from class, thinking that if I had legs like Lena’s I would be brave enough to talk to any guy I liked.

* * *

(one month later.)

Anyone wondering what was taking me so long in the bathroom will have only one clue: the sound of rushing water. As usual, I have the sink turned on all the way. It is quite a nice sound, actually. Consistent, you know? But then again, anything would sound nice compared to the sound of someone puking their guts up.

I’ve been here so long my knees hurt from kneeling. A tiny, distant part of my mind tells me that this is ridiculous and excessive, that a small salad and one dumpling will not make me gain weight. But that part has been shrinking over the weeks, getting smaller and smaller like the view of an island from an airplane soaring into the clouds. I don’t listen to it anymore, barely acknowledge it amongst the grotesque and seething tunnels of self-hatred and criticism that my mind has become.

Another heave, this time bringing up only a clear yellowish fluid that, judging by the burning in my throat, is acid. I spit it out and notice dimly that it is flecked with globules of crimson. Blood? Or some other gross bodily secretion? The tiny part of my mind screams at me that this is bad, but as I’ve said, I don’t listen to it. I only listen to Her.

When I flush it away and get up, the world contracts to a shimmering screen of black dots and, for a moment, I sway, the world bending at the edges like a rubber toy. This too should worry me but She brushes it off, her razorblades voice low and persuasive. Don’t you feel better now? Now that it’s all gone – all that stuff you don’t need.

In the mirror, I look pale and dishevelled, my face streaked with tears from the pressure of throwing up multiple times in a row. I don’t feel better until I see my stomach, which has caved in again; until I rest my fingers on my protruding hipbones. I wash my mouth out, and my hands, avoiding my reflection’s eyes in the mirror because as long as She talks to me, they are not mine.

Hello, Wolf! I don't believe we've met. *shakes hand*
So, I totally clicked on this story because I saw the word flesh. xD I think I may be a bit disturbed.

On with your review!

What do you fear the most?

Before, I would have written ‘fear itself’, if I wanted to sound smart, you know, quoting someone important. Or, if I was feeling average, I would write – spiders, horror movies – something clichéd and nestled well into the realm of acceptability. But not now. Now, before I decide to lie, I write one word in writing so tiny your eyes want it to disappear.

Flesh.

Simply lovely intro.

I write one word in writing so tiny your eyes want it to disappear.

"Write" and "writing" are rather repetitive.
Think of some synonyms...

"I scrawl one word in writing so tiny..."
"I write one word in such tiny letters..."

See? Those flow better. Just change one of those words.

We – me and the rest of the eight graders who had a life and actually did things after school – were walking towards the park

"Me and the rest of the eight graders" should be "The rest of the eight graders and I."
Meh. Take out all the "who had a life an actually did things after school" part. It's much too long and convoluted, making the sentence confusing. Also, it makes your main character sound a teensy bit snobbish. Your group of friends aren't the only eight graders with lives, surely.

the expensive kind that’s like 70% cocoa

This would look prettier as seventy percent. Numbers staring at you be ugly.

“Nono, my hair – my legs … “

Flip the quotation, darlin'.

“Your hair,” I said firmly, “is fine.”

This should be in a new paragraph.

In the mirror, I look pale and dishevelled, my face streaked with tears from the pressure of throwing up multiple times in a row. I don’t feel better until I see my stomach, which has caved in again; until I rest my fingers on my protruding hipbones. I wash my mouth out, and my hands, avoiding my reflection’s eyes in the mirror because as long as she talks to me, they are not mine.

Excellent ending.

So. I know this was hard for you to write. But it was excellent. Strong prose, Wolf.

One little thing:
Your tenses switch from past to present quite a bit. check that out some.

Best wishes,
Antigone

Hey, I’m here. I was about to review but had to mow the lawn. Anyway…

First of all, your introduction was brilliant and the power within it is so heartfelt and open, which is amazing.

The day it started really wasn’t unlike any other day that week, that month, even that year.

This is a nice fresh take on saying “it was a day like any other” but it’s definitely a more original way of putting it. Coolsies.

…did was so seamless, so coordinated-looking.

Something about “coordinated-looking” makes reading this feel rather clumsy-looking.. I would probably just get rid of ‘looking.’

Not jealous of Beth, for having Alex – sure, he was nice, and a good friend, but just … not my type. Speaking of that, where is your type, anyway?

First off, the comma after “Beth” is unnecessary.
You start off this sentence talking about the fact that you’re not jealous of Beth for having Alex but then go on talking about your type. You never give us the reason why you do feel jealous. It leave the reader hanging a bit.

that’s like 70% cocoa – and long, lounging body.

Okay, to begin, I would recommend changing “that’s” that “that are.” I think (though I’ve been out of grammar class too long to really remember) it has something to do with subject/verb agreement. Also, “70%” should be written out as “seventy percent” so that your writing looks more formal.
Another thing that I wanted to bring up is the bit at the end. Either move it to where it doesn’t just hang there or remove it.

…of throwing up multiple times in a row.

This here is all rather unneeded information. We already know that she’s thrown up multiple times. You don’t have to tell us again.

Overall, this isn’t bad and you’ve set the tone up for a piece that would be easily understandable for a younger grade school based audience (or whatever audience those It Girl and Clique books are set too).

The thing I would watch out for is become too much like those series. That would be a bit too cliché and definitely a turn off. Not only that, but it would likely send the wrong idea to your audience; Skinny is Perfect. Cause that’s not true. Real chika’s have curves.

Keep rockin.

~lilymoore

Hey Wolf! ^_^ Here as requested.

So, first of all, I really like the way you start this out, with the 'What do you fear the most?' bit. It's a good hook and well-written. But in the net section, I didn't like how you started with this:

The day it started really wasn’t unlike any other day that week, that month, even that year.

This seems so unnecessary, and I find it best to generally avoid all 'the day it started' types of beginnings, and this just seemed so cliched. Honestly, reader don't really care if the day is like any other day. We care about what's happening on that particular day that made you write a story about it.

Trying not to feel disappointment was – still is – like trying to push waves back out to sea. So I turned away from the ocean and looked instead at Lena, who, like me, [s]has[/s] [had]eyes full of envy.

You seem to have some tense confusion here? The 'still is' works fine, but then the next sentence should go back to past tense.

Oh, and if you’re thinking that Chase is some kind of pretty-boy, Disney-looking type like his name might suggest, you’re very wrong.

Not sure if I liked this. Although I can relate, it seems a little random-- why would we be thinking that anyway, when all we know about him is his name? I'd replace this with something else.

avoiding my reflection’s eyes in the mirror because as long as she talks to me, they are not mine.

This confuses me. Should 'she' be capitalized, like it is elsewhere? Referring, I assume, to some part of your MC that is convincing the rest of her that this behavior is necessary.

Overall

All in all, this was etremely well-written, and I really could feel the emotion behind her in the last section! The middle section with Lena was a bit off-putting, though. Where is that supposed to tie in, plotwise? It only tells us about Lena's obsession with Chase and her nice legs, which doesn't add much to the big picture-- your MC's (who needs a name soon, btw) eating disorder. It would make more sense in there if your MC mentioned something about how wonderfully skinny Lena was, or maybe have Lena offer her some peanuts and, even though MC's stomach is growling, she reluctantly refuses them. But right now I'm not sure why that section's there, and the transition is a bit abrupt.

My one thing to caution you about is this becoming too ditzy and guy-oriented. The teenage gossip may be good and realistic, but I don't want to read a book containing the mindless chatter that I can get more than enough of in my own school. I wan tto read a book about something deeper, maybe, and if you can keep up this very personal and internally-conflicted MC, I think you'll succeed.

^_^ So, great job! Just justify that middle section with Lena, and you have a strong start. PM me for anything!

~Evi

Thanks guys! Your reviews were great.

I've fixed the little things and will be revising the middle section again to try to give it more relevance to the story. The peanut idea was a good one, thanks Evi. :]

ilymoore wrote:The thing I would watch out for is become too much like those series. That would be a bit too cliché and definitely a turn off. Not only that, but it would likely send the wrong idea to your audience; Skinny is Perfect. Cause that’s not true. Real chika’s have curves.

Good point here; I definitely didn't intend for it to seem like those books (they're kind of shallow ...) and since it seems like that I think I need to do a bit of editing.

Anyways, thanks a bunch for reviewing ^^; You can all expect a review from me in the near future as thanks.

Cheers,
- Camille.<3

PS. Part Two is half-finished.

Wolf wrote:What do you fear the most?

Before, I would have written ‘fear itself’, if I wanted to sound smart, you know, quoting someone important. Or, if I was feeling average, I would write – spiders, horror movies – something clichéd and nestled well into the realm of acceptability. But not now. Now, before I decide to lie, I write one word in script so tiny your eyes want it to disappear.

Flesh.

I really like this opening. It's very intriguing.
The only thing I have to say is who i

* * *

The day it started really wasn’t unlike any other day that week, that month, even that year. Nothing unspeakably horrible happened, no one called me fat. I didn’t eat too much – actually, I had hardly eaten anything that day, and was feeling rather proud of myself despite the hunger coalescing in my insides.

“Ohmigod though, Beth and Alex are just so cute together.” We – the rest of the eight graders and I - were walking towards the park, successfully managing to piss off everyone on the street who was unfortunate enough to be outside at that time. An elderly woman shot my best friend, Lena, a dirty look as she crawled by, hands clamped into claws around the bags she was carrying. Lena ignored her or just didn’t notice – it’s always hard to tell which – and continued her observation of the two students walking slightly ahead of the group, hand in hand.

“They really are though,” I said, feeling, as usual, the stirrings of jealousy at the sight of them, so perfect together; everything they did was so seamless, so coordinated. Not jealous of Beth for having Alex – sure, he was nice, and a good friend, but just … not my type. Speaking of that, where is your type, anyway?

Nowhere to be seen. Trying not to feel disappointment was – still is – like trying to push waves back out to sea. So I turned away from the ocean and looked instead at Lena, who, like me, had eyes full of envy. “I can see you and Chase being like that,” I only half-teased. So what if he didn’t like her? Yet. They would look great together. Oh, and if you’re thinking that Chase is some kind of pretty-boy, Disney-looking type like his name might suggest, you’re very wrong. I used to like him, actually, and I can still remember the disgusting longing with which my eyes took in his wheat-blonde hair, bittersweet chocolate eyes – you know, the expensive kind that’s like seventy-percent cocoa – and long, lounging body.

Lena looked half-pleased, half-irritated. “You know he likes Tanya. And her giant boobs.” Her eyes, which I have always envied because they are as clear and pure as raindrops, were cast down as she took in her A36 chest with a mixture of disgust and sadness.

“He doesn’t like her,” I said with exaggerated reasonableness. “What he feels for Tanya and her, well, assets is nothing more than the shallow and, sadly typical lust that many beings with a Y chromosome experience for those without one.”

She rolled her eyes as she always did when I started trying to talk like a smart person, and finger-combed her glossy dyed-black hair. “Whatever. All I know is he isn’t feeling that typical lust for me.”

I had nothing to say to that – after all, it was the same for me. My own abysmal chest, a size A38 to date, certainly wasn’t the subject of anyone’s lust. Not that things like that are all that matters, but still.

After that, our conversation continued normally – Mrs. Te is such a bitch, I wish Dylan were taller ‘cause he would be so hot if he wasn’t so short, what are you doing this weekend. At least, it was normal until we saw Chase walking up from the park. Lena froze, her gaze shattering into a million directions at once. “Chill,” I said. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Nono, my hair – my legs … " Her voice was beginning to rise in what I knew would be a near-hysterical wail. I glared at her, twirling my own honey-coloured strands between my fingers.

“Your hair,” I said firmly, “is fine.” And I wasn’t lying, either; she had straightened it into a smooth, glossy sheet. I wasn’t even going to get started on her legs. They were what I envied most about her: as long as a model’s, and as skinny, too. I looked down at my own legs, which were long, I suppose, but too muscular to be skinny.

Lena made an unconvinced noise and continued her observation of the pavement. I rolled my eyes at her and started a conversation with Rowan, a friend from class, thinking that if I had legs like Lena’s I would be brave enough to talk to any guy I liked.

* * *

(one month later.)

Anyone wondering what was taking me so long in the bathroom will have only one clue: the sound of rushing water. As usual, I have the sink turned on all the way. It is quite a nice sound, actually. Consistent, you know? But then again, anything would sound nice compared to the sound of someone puking their guts up.

I’ve been here so long my knees hurt from kneeling. A tiny, distant part of my mind tells me that this is ridiculous and excessive, that a small salad and one dumpling will not make me gain weight. But that part has been shrinking over the weeks, getting smaller and smaller like the view of an island from an airplane soaring into the clouds. I don’t listen to it anymore, barely acknowledge it amongst the grotesque and seething tunnels of self-hatred and criticism that my mind has become.

Another heave, this time bringing up only a clear yellowish fluid that, judging by the burning in my throat, is acid. I spit it out and notice dimly that it is flecked with globules of crimson. Blood? Or some other gross bodily secretion? The tiny part of my mind screams at me that this is bad, but as I’ve said, I don’t listen to it. I only listen to Her.

When I flush it away and get up, the world contracts to a shimmering screen of black dots and, for a moment, I sway, the world bending at the edges like a rubber toy. This too should worry me but She brushes it off, her razorblades voice low and persuasive. Don’t you feel better now? Now that it’s all gone – all that stuff you don’t need.

In the mirror, I look pale and dishevelled, my face streaked with tears from the pressure of throwing up multiple times in a row. I don’t feel better until I see my stomach, which has caved in again; until I rest my fingers on my protruding hipbones. I wash my mouth out, and my hands, avoiding my reflection’s eyes in the mirror because as long as She talks to me, they are not mine.[/quote]

Sorry it's so late...

Wolf wrote:What do you fear the most?

Before, I would have written ‘fear itself’, if I wanted to sound smart, you know, quoting someone important. Or, if I was feeling average, I would write – spiders, horror movies – something clichéd and nestled well into the realm of acceptability. But not now. Now, before I decide to lie, I write one word in script so tiny your eyes want it to disappear.

Flesh.

I really liked this opening. It's really intriguing. It really makes me want to read on.

Wolf wrote:were walking towards the park, successfully managing to piss off everyone on the street who was unfortunate enough to be outside at that time.

What were they doing that was so bad?

Wolf wrote:So I turned away from the ocean

Up till now I thought they were like, downtown or something. I didn't know there was an ocean right there.

Wolf wrote: They would look great together. [s]Oh, and if you’re thinking that Chase is some kind of pretty-boy, Disney-looking type like his name might suggest, you’re very wrong.[/s]

Not necessary. It doesn't really fit in with the tone of the rest.

Wolf wrote:(one month later.)

Just as personal preference, I would write it like this: One Month Later. Bold and everything. It'll make it stand out more.

Wolf wrote:But then again, anything would sound nice compared to the sound of someone puking their guts up.

Love this.

Wolf wrote:A tiny, distant part of my mind tells me that this is ridiculous and excessive, that a small salad and one dumpling will not make me gain weight. But that part has been shrinking over the weeks, getting smaller and smaller like the view of an island from an airplane soaring into the clouds. I don’t listen to it anymore, barely acknowledge it amongst the grotesque and seething tunnels of self-hatred and criticism that my mind has become.

I really like this. It gives a really good view of the inner turmoil of someone with bulimia and how these feelings of self-disgust get so strong.

Wolf wrote:The tiny part of my mind screams at me that this is bad, but as I’ve said, I don’t listen to it. I only listen to Her.

Same thing as above. This is great.


I don't feel that connected to the main character yet, but it's starting to come. It's still early, and the 'one month later' part made me start to understand her more. I kind of want to know more about what exactly made her turn to bulimia. What really made her change her mindset to 'I'm fat and ugly'. Did her friend contribute? A boy? I just feel like there's a gap in the story there.
I'm really interested to see how this progresses. That last part I really liked. I liked how you got in her mind and showed some of the feelings behind what she is doing. I thought that was really well written. Actually, overall, I thought the whole thing was really well-written. This is an intriguing plot, I like it.

-Carly

Before, I would have written ‘fear itself’, if I wanted to sound smart, you know, quoting someone important.

I feel like this sentence has too many commas.

I write one word in script so tiny your eyes want it to disappear.

I don’t like this description because it seems unrealistic and trying to hard to be dramatic. If it’s such a small, tiny written word, why would I want it to disappear? It’s already rather tiny, so it’s practically gone as it is. Also, you get into second person with the “you” and I’m certain you could write something better without it, something more realistic and real to life.

“They really are though,” I said, feeling, as usual, the stirrings of jealousy at the sight of them, so perfect together; everything they did was so seamless, so coordinated.

I don’t think you should have that long of a phrase attached to dialogue. Leave it at “I said”, and try not to use the verb “feel” when describing your character’s thoughts. Instead, try to find a more vivid verb so the whole sentence is more alive.

her razorblades voice

Makes “razorblades” singular and it will sound better.

I found that your part after “one month later” was a lot better than the rest and might work better as a beginning. You didn’t have much conflict, and spent a lot of the beginning doing what most people do when they’re writing a first person story about something that has happened to them, that is very personal. You just rambled. I’m not saying rambling is bad, but at this point in the story, it’s not important. I’m going to treat this like a story and not like a memory – so hopefully you won’t feel insulted when I pluck it apart? Being able to write a personal story from a distance is difficult, but once you can do it, you’re better than most writers out there.

The problem with where you start is that it is too self-absorbed in the narrator and I yet have reason to care. Your use of the first person, though good to get all the thoughts and experiences of the reader, makes it wonder and feel more like a journal entry in places than fiction. Perhaps you wrote this, the first time, very involved. I don’t know how much of this is true to your life and how much of it you are creating for the story, but if you want to write a good story you need to remove yourself from it 100%. The main character is not you. Why do you need to do this? It’s your experience. You know how you felt with everything, you know what moments were important – but we, the reader, don’t. How was this discussion with Lena important? Where is the conflict? What does it matter to us, the reader? It’s the first day it started. You say it was normal. And from reading it, yeah, it was normal. So normal, it didn’t keep my attention. That’s the problem with normal in fiction – it’s boring.

My biggest advice would be to practice distancing yourself from what you are writing, and keeping your reader in mind at all time. Second would be to perfect using the first person. It’s hard. It really, really is. I’m not even that great at it. With this, it’s keeping a balance between the right information, and too much information. If you’re writing this like yourself, rather than like a writer, you’re going to end up giving us more information than we actually need, or not the right information. Like I said, you’ve experienced this. We haven’t. That’s the big, big problem.

Also in the first part you’re in past tense, the second is in present. I actually like the use of the present tense in the second part, and I usually detest it. You did a wonderful job with that. It made it in the moment, and more painful. Your details about her purging were great. You wrote it from a distance and gave the reader the good details! I’m proud of you for that. It was sickening – in a good way?

I think if you just started somewhere else, made us care about the narrator, gave it conflict and purpose, it would work better. Not bad though, for a first draft. It’s the problem that comes with writing personal stories.

I hope this helped! If you have any questions feel free to PM me, and I do hope my critique doesn’t offend you at all. ^^; I say what I know! I’ve written personal stories before. They’re the biggest challenge.

Hey Wolf ^^ Shina here as requested Sorry I'm a bit late O_O The review thread was going slow for a while, I forgot to check back. I'll make up for it! I promise!

Before, I would have written ‘fear itself’, if I wanted to sound smart, you know, quoting someone important.

Hmm, this beginning makes your story seem, not frightening as the title. It kind of makes me want to figure out why the title is named so.

Now, before I decide to lie, I write one word in script so tiny your eyes want it to disappear.

Actually, when font is that tiny, you want either a magnifying glass, a bigger font, or better eyes. I agree with Suze. Not using this literary element correctly. Just change the comparison or reword.

Flesh.

D: This is drawing the readers in.
* *

The day it started [s]really[/s] wasn’t unlike any other day that week, that month, even that year.

"Really" is redundant. And also, decent beginning. It seems a bit cliche, however since you're starting off by just plainly saying the day it started was "unlike any other day". I feel like you don't need to say this, but rather show this with a scene or action. It slows things down right after the "flesh" part.

Nothing unspeakably horrible happened, no one called me fat.

Incorrect punctuation. It should be:
"Nothing unspeakably horrible happened; no one called me fat."
Or just break it into two separate sentences.

Also, what is "unspeakably horrible", anway? You're being plain with your descriptions, flat. You're using big words rather than imagery words, and you need to combine the two to pain a picture in the readers mind. It may also just be the way the MC thinks, but we'll see...

I didn’t eat too much – actually, I had hardly eaten anything that day, and was feeling rather proud of myself despite the hunger coalescing in my insides.

You're using a lot of dashes. It breaks the flow for me, maybe change the punctuation:
"I didn't eat too much. Actually, I had hardly eaten anything that day and was feeling rather proud of myself despite the hunger coalescing in my insides"

Another thing, that second sentences is realy wordy and long. "coalescing in my insides" is what makes it long, and "in my insides" is a tongue twister, breaking the flow.

“Ohmigod though, Beth and Alex are just so cute together.”

"Ohmigod, though. Beth and Alex are just so cute together."

We – the rest of the eight* graders and I - were walking towards the park, successfully managing to piss off everyone on the street who was unfortunate enough to be outside at that time.

Em dashes are actually supposed to be connected to the words, so you don't need to space it.

*eigth

Also, you're using a whole lot of telling and not enough showing. The result is really long sentences with lots of adjectives. Rather than saying what you just said, you could've used imagery and down something like:
"We--the rest of the eigth graders and I--were walking towards the park, our arms linked together, our heads thrown back in laughter. Whenever our posse was present, the entire peace of the street was destroyed. Parents covered their childrens' ears while other pedestrians scowled as they passed. "

It's not such a hot example, but you can get the general idea of what showing is. You don't need to say that your characters bothered the people on the street. You can just show it.

An elderly woman shot my best friend, Lena, a dirty look as she crawled by, hands clamped into claws around the bags she was carrying.

You're jam-packing your sentences. Might I suggest:

"With her hands clawing the bags she carried, an elderly woman shot my best friend, Lena, as she crawled by."

“They really are though,” I said, [s]feeling, as usual[/s], the *stirrings of jealousy at the sight of them, so perfect together; [s]everything they did was so seamless, so coordinated.[/s]

Punctuation:
"They really are, though," I said,"
You need to work on shortening these sentences, Wolf. Break them up rather than packing them all together.

The crossouts are redundant and the "stirrings" isn't the right word, or you need to move things around.
example "jealousy stirring at the sight of them so perfect together. Everything they did was so seamless, so coordinated."

Not jealous of Beth for having Alex – sure, he was nice, and a good friend, but just … not my type.

No more of the dashes @_@ Just make it a different sentence, Wolf. Just because they're not in the same sentence doesn't mean they can't relate.

Anyone wondering what was taking me so long in the bathroom will have only one clue: the sound of rushing water. As usual, I have the sink turned on all the way. It is quite a nice sound, actually. Consistent, you know? But then again, anything would sound nice compared to the sound of someone puking their guts up.

The tense is wrong. You were speaking in past tense earlier. Also, you shouldn't ask questions to the reader directly. It ruins the 1st person POV effect by making the reader feel like the MC.

Another heave, this time bringing up only a clear yellowish fluid that, judging by the burning in my throat, is acid. I spit it out and notice dimly that it is flecked with globules of crimson. Blood? Or some other gross bodily secretion? The tiny part of my mind screams at me that this is bad, but as I’ve said, I don’t listen to it. I only listen to Her.

This makes me want to know who "Her" is.

This too should worry me but She brushes it off, her razorblades voice low and persuasive.

I'm not sure what you mean by this.

I wash my mouth out, and my hands, avoiding my reflection’s eyes in the mirror because as long as She talks to me, they are not mine.

This cliffhanger ending is good ^^

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Positives: You definitely have found your writer's voice ^^ Your plot also seems to be well in play.

Negatives: Your sentences are exceedingly long and adjective-packed, and not in the good way. Your punctuation needs some work and so does your imagery. Think about the five senses and write from those perspectives instead of just "saying" this and that. It's an important part about being a writer. Imagery is what'll bring your story to life, make it reach the third dimension.

Keep writing ^^
-Shina

Wolf, I'm very impressed. Although I have to be honest and say the subject matter is of little interest to me personally, I'm struck by how clean your writing is. I don't really recall seeing any typos, which is a sad rarity among young writers. Your writing is clever and witty, and though occasionally I read a line or two that reminded me of the "Young" part of Young Writer's Society, overall I got the impression that you're talented beyond your age. I'd like to read your work about other subjects sometime.

Wow, this was really great! My stomach hurt while reading the ending! You definitely have control of the emotion in this story! Quite well written, now I shall go find part 2, this really intrigued me. I only have one question.

Why is she answering a question? Where is she when doing that? Though perhaps my questions will be answered in pt 2.

Ha, well Happy Holidays!

Loved this, once again.

<3 Megan