How could I improve this?? Is this okay writing?? Would you read on?
Here’s a link to the first part of the first chapter:http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=AuSINR4XK2DUJj_q44kMqlXsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20090517054808AAK29G1
This is the start of the second chapter. Its set in a fictional fantasy version of japan/england/america all mixed together, hence the names.
Two years had passed since Reiko had died, but I still had trouble believing it she was gone. I half expected the phone to ring and hear her voice on the other end, or for her to walk into the classroom and sit at the desk next to me, telling me it was all just a big joke and she was fine really.
At school, we’d left her locker virtually untouched. All her textbooks and notepads and little bag of makeup still sat in the bottom, while a couple of photos of us were taped all over the military-grey metal door. Her pencil case with the dolphins and doodles on it was still missing its eraser, and the six key on her calculator was still lying under the maths books.
Once a year, on the sixth of October, we lit a candle inside the locker and remembered her. It was our little shrine to her memory, and I loved it.
Her killer had never been found. She had no enemies at school, and no one had any reason to want her dead. The police concluded it was a random killing, packed up all the fancy equipment and sniffer dogs and left, case closed.
The doorbell rang, cutting like a knife through my thought train. I ran down stairs, dressing gown catching on each stair. A face glowed warmly through the yellow-and-green stained glass windows in the porch light. I grasped the bent copper lock key, twisted it and pulled open the door. Yumi stood outside, rubbing her arms in the cold.
‘Hey, come in,’ I said, a grin leaking across my face. My parents were out of town, and I was hosting a sleepover, it was going to be the best one we’d had in years. How many sixteen year olds wouldn’t?
‘Hey, yourself! Its freakin’ freezing out there and my jacket’s in the wash.’ She complained. She pushed a corn-coloured wave out of her eyes. A silver bar glinted in her pale eyebrows like a weird beetle.
‘You got your eyebrow done? I thought you had to be eighteen to get that pierced!’ I yelped in excitement. She’d been whining about how evil her parents were being and the unfair age limits at the tattoo and piercing parlour downtown.
‘Yeah, found a little place that just opened up, half the price, no age limits,’ she said. ‘Got it done last night. Hurt like hell though,” That didn’t matter, of course. Yumi was totally into piercings. She already planned to get her tongue pieced before she’s eighteen.
She tucked her long locks behind her ear, revealing the four rings and studs she had set in it. Besides the piercings, addiction to leather and the smoking, she looked a bit like a Malibu Barbie; tall, tanned, blonde, always perfect eye makeup whatever the weather. She grabbed one of the massive bags and began lugging it up the stairs, wobbling on her five-inch spike heels.
“Lob it in my room!” I yelled, following her. My door was shut when she reached it. I picked up my pace to open it for her, but she stood on one foot and manoeuvred the handle and kicked. The door flew open and she stalked inside. Cool.
A buzzing, blaring noise emanated from one of the hulking sacks. Yumi dived on the nearest one, tearing out clothes and throwing them at the wall behind her.
“Nat, gimme a hand here?” she said. I walked over, dodging flying underwear and unzipped the bag. Vinyl and silk practically leaked out. I rummaged around, trying not to imagine what else she had in there. My fingers closed around a smooth rectangle. I yanked it out and pressed the receiver button.
“Hello, this is Yumi’s finest brothel, how may I help?” I giggled into the phone. Yumi glared daggers in my direction and snatched the phone off me.
“’Kay, sorry about that. Natsumi was being an idiot,” she said.
