Title:
Chapter: 1
Author: ~*~Noelle Sapphire~*~  
Plot: We are introduced to Carson who is constantly being moved from city to city and town to town because her mother, Deb, keeps running from the men who she dates and who keep leaving her.
Style & Voice: There wasn’t any action here, but as a chapter to set the scene and introduce us to characters you did well. Maybe you can find a hook to catch our attention a little more though. Maybe she sees something through the window that is interesting or another character?
Scene/Setting: We know quite a bit about the house and the location where she is now, so we’re well oriented for future chapters.
Characters: You’ve shown us quite a bit about both characters here.
Grammar: There are several instances of incomplete sentances that you need to look at, and an overuse of adverbs at times but other than that I didn’t really see anything. I’ve marked below what I think you should take a look at. 
Just My Personal Opinion: This is interesting and I like that you’ve set it in first person, which will allow us to get deeper inside your character’s head. I’m interested in seeing where you go with this. Just keep in mind the overuse of adverbs (which I admit that I’m entirely guilty of myself, so I know what it’s like!), and you’ll do well!
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My comments will be red
My suggestions will be in blue
Repeating words will be underlined and in bold
*~*~*
Don't worry honey; you're going to absolutely love this new place! Good, you’ve already set the tone here with the impression of a patronizing speaker.
Those words ran through my mind as I grudgingly Do you really need this adverb? I think we get the message with just ‘tramped’ tramped up the stairs with the oversized cardboard box in my hands. By saying ‘in my hands’, the implication is that it is relatively small, which contrast your earlier statement of ‘outsized’. I scowled, mouthing the words with distaste, rolling my eyes. Every year, those same words are repeated over and over again. Every year, those words become a lie.
I absolutely do NOT love our new place. Our old place was better, well as good as a house could get in six months. Good, you’ve told us a little about your character’s life very simply and without making it obvious. It was old and rickety with a homey type of atmosphere. Made you feel welcome from the moment you stepped through the doors. Could you turn this into a proper sentence? In this new house, everything was straight, in place, modern This is a little confusing as it’s currently written. Could you rework it to make it easier to understand what you mean. as my mom called it. You felt awkward when you walked in. since she lives there, this should be in the present tense, I think. Like a fat guy eating a salad at McDonalds. Again, turn this into a full sentence please. You’re missing the first half of the sentence. My mom may love this house, but to me, it looked artificial.
I reached the top of the stairs and rounded a corner, trying to peek over my box and navigate where, exactly, Again, we don’t need this adverb. It’s cluttering up your writing, and making it weaker. Too many adverbs are not good. I was going. From what my mom told me, my room was the third door on the left. The hallway was long, and walking with a box the size of King Kong didn’t make things any easier. You’re giving us a look into her personality very quickly, which is good. I underestimated the angle, and turned too soon. I crashed into the wall like a crash-test dummy. I like literary devices too, but I think that you may be overdoing them a little; this is your second simile in four paragraphs, and you’ve used metaphors, hyperbole and other ones too. Maybe you’re trying too hard. The contents of my box went flying everywhere as I fell heavily backwards onto the floor. Again, you don’t need these adverbs and adjectives. We know what you mean without them, so they are unnecessary. Trophies scattered, books tumbled, and clothes fell in a heap at my feet.
I sighed in defeat, laying my head against the wall. I closed my eyes, blocking out the headache that was starting to form. I imagined I was still in Brampford, hanging out with the girls, and chatting about the boys. We were in the mall, sitting in our spot by the fountain. Water splashed around us Is she ‘sitting’ in the middle of the fountain? How can water splash around her? as we laughed and squealed, You’re making her sound very young here by using the word ‘squealed’ bringing up funny moments of the week. Snacking on salty French fries and sipping sugary root beer. Too many adjectives again! We don’t need them, we know what they taste like! And this sentence isn’t complete, nor is the next one. Shopping until we’d spent all of our money, and borrowed each others for shoes. I smiled and opened my eyes, only to be disappointed by the bundle of jeans that lie by my feet.
My Mom bounded up the stairs, Good, you’ve already given us a glimpse of her child-like nature red hair flying, green eyes round. "What happened?" She asked, her voice melting in concern as she saw me sitting with my head against the wall. "I heard a loud crash and assumed you broke something." Would she say that? Or would she be more likely to say ‘what did you break?’. Saying ‘assumed’ implies that she was proven wrong already. There was a slight Irish accent in her voice. I, thank goodness, did not acquire the slurred accent and stayed completely Canadian with my speech.
I tilted my head towards her, raising my eyebrows for dramatic effect. "Don't worry Deb." I said; using her real name as opposed to Mom, knowing it irritated her. "The stuff is fine. Nothing is broken, thanks for asking! I'm dying though. I think I my have lung cancer now. Your curiosity in my health just seemed to be the main topic of your concern." This is a little confusing. Didn’t Deb just ask how the stuff was? Hence saying ‘thanks for asking’ doesn’t quite fit. Move it to after the ‘I’m dying though’, and it’ll work better.
Deb's eyes crinkled as she smiled brightly down uponat me. "Yes Carson, your health and security is always my main concern. That's why we moved to Oakville!"
I turned my head away from her, frowning at what she had said. My health is not what brought us to Oakville. She knew it, and I knew it. We were here because she had another relationship mess-up with the new man she met at a bar. I think this one’s name was Nick, but I can’t be sure. can’t be sure? Or wasn’t sure? There we so many screw up kings that I just nicknamed them Dash, because they always dash for the door as soon as the relationship becomes ‘serious’.
It always happened. The guy had a few dates, had a little fun, and then skipped out on Deb, leaving her unhappy, vulnerable and most of all, embarrassed. She would devour an entire box of ice crème cream, not ‘crème’, icing and cookie dough before coming to her senses and calming down.
Deb would then buy a house in some strange new town, pack our stuff, load it into the truck and ship us off to the next town, where she would more then likely mess-up again and the process would repeat once more.
Mom was a man magnet. This switch between Mom and Deb is confusing, pick one and stick to it except in special situations.They are attracted to her, but once the pull is weak, they run away, looking for the next magnet to hold onto.
My love life is the exact opposite. Since we never manage to stay in the same town for more then six months, I don't have the time to get to know someone well enough to develop a relationship. I had been on exactly three dates in my 15-year-old life I don’t think that’s really an effective way of showing a lack of relationships. I’ve never been on a date and I’m sixteen. I know a lot of people in my school haven’t either at my age., and the toll toll is a word for required payment, so maybe use ‘count’ instead was not going up anytime soon. Deb would often comment on this, asking ask me why I wasn't out with new friends, or a nice boy. I would give her a look and tramp tramp? Or stamp? into my room, asking myself how she could even say something like that. It was her fault I was deprived of a romantic social life. She wasn’t setting a great example, running away because some Dash skipped out on her. She never even asked what I wanted, whether I wanted to move or not.
Deb bent down, picking up my various soccer trophies and a few mystery books I had kept over the years. She moved forward, gently setting them in my box, and dropped down to sit next to me, her back resting against a in this case ‘a’ should be ‘the’ because it is indicative. wall. She ran her fingers through my hair, and I looked up at her.
She was a pretty enough woman. She had fire red hair that hung straight down too her shoulders, with little streaks of blond and brown flowing through. Her emerald green eyes always held a twinkle of happiness, or a glimmer of relaxation. Her face was more characteristic then it was beautiful, yet it still held a graceful look that could charm a man into a month long relationship. Could you put this information in as little hints throughout, rather than a block of description? Most readers don’t like description, and will skip over it anyway.
"I know you miss your friends Carson," Deb started off, making the atmosphere awkward, "I miss my friends too! We just have to get through this together. It's a new start, a blank page in our book of life. You can start writing your way through it. You start school in a week. Lucky you we moved in August. It would have been strange start school in the middle of the year!"
She giggled, and straightened up, stretching as she did so. When she was in a standing position, towering over me, she offered a hand. This sentence is a little awkward. We don’t really need to know she was in a standing position and towering over her. Rewording the entire paragraph might help. I rolled my eyes, but grasped her hand and allowed her to drag me to my feet.
Deb went downstairs, leaving me to my the mess. I picked up the remaining items that were scattered on the hardwood floor, and trudged into my room. My empty, spacious, white walled room. I narrowed my eyes, grunting in disapproval we get the point, even without this. as I placed my box on the floor next to the door.
“It looks like a hospital room.” I said to myself, slowly pacing around the room. The white tiled floor was slick, gleaming as the dim light cast a warm glow. Using ‘warm’ and ‘dim’ creates comforting images, contrasting the idea of the more practical kitchen. It looked more like a kitchen then a bedroom. Who has tiles in their room? My footsteps echoed around the empty room. I couldn’t stand it. I hate big, empty spaces, and hospitals, they creep me out more than anything else in the world. Now, I’m sleeping in my own, personal hospital room. I turned on my heel, and headed for the door.
Leaving my stuff to be unpacked when my furniture was brought up, I headed downstairs to check out the rest of my new home. ‘home’ implies a level of acceptance of the house. Maybe use the word ‘house’ to show her being a little uncomfortable The first room I saw, as I stepped off the last step, was the living room. It had glossy wooden floors, bright red wallpaper and an enormous chandelier hanging in the center of the room. I rolled my eyes. “It’s too high class for us.” I thought wearily, continuing on my travels around the house. bright red wallpaper doesn’t sound high class, but tacky, to me at least.
The room across from the living room was the kitchen. It wasn’t as fancy as the living room, but with its flashy cabinets and professional looking cooking equipment, it still looked too high strung for me. high strung means nervous and easily excitable. The walls were tiled white, with a big black strip running down the middle of it, making the room look more like a 60’s style diner, rather than a kitchen. It didn’t suit my taste at all. We get it, you’ve made it quite clear she’s unhappy. This is becoming a little repetitive and obvious, so it’s harder to read. This house was making me feel worse then I already was.
I still pressed on; despite the disappointment the last two rooms gave me. Every other room ‘every other room’, that suggests that ‘you’ liked some of the rooms. Every other is every second room. I visited, whether it be a bathroom, library, or bedroom, just filled my heart with grief. Half of it was the fact that I hated the house, the other half was I couldn’t get used to the house. Chances are, by the time May rolled around, we’d be on a road trip across the country, searching for another place to get off to a ‘fresh start’.
Our last house was in Brampford, where it stank of fries, gas exhaust, and was filled with excitement. Here, it was clean, green, and too quiet. Nothing happened here. It was a big difference. Everything about this place sent a twinge of anger into my chest. I hated Oakville; from the moment our car entered its town boundaries. Now we know she makes assumptions quickly, and she was really hurt by her constant moves. I can sympathize a bit, having lived in four different countries, attended six different schools in six different cities.
I went back up to my room, my fingers pressed to my temples trying to block out the headache that was still pounding from the fall. I kicked my door open, only slightly happy that my furniture had been brought up. It took a little less more hospital out of the room seeing my old bed and dresser.
There were six boxes on my bed, along with the gigantic box that I had brought up. My desk was placed so it was facing the windows that overlooked the quiet street. Beside it, was an oak wood dresser that still had Sailor Moon stickers on them from when I was young. In the corner was a large mirror, the kind that could spin around on an axle.
I made my way over the mirror, running my long, manicured fingers through my hair. The reflective glass showed dark brown hair, with streaks of gold and red running through random strands of hair. Brown eyeliner and eye shadow brought out the bright, Irish green eyes that stared back at me, taking in my angled face, running over my athletic body. I was wearing a white tank, layered with a red tee, and a black jacket over top. My legs were covered with black jeans that faded on top of my legs. This is a very stereotypical way of showing appearances of narrators. Can’t you find another way of talking about that? Through conversation or something?
I sighed, turning away from the mirror, and hopped onto my bed, pushing boxes down as I did so. From one of the boxes, I took out bed sheets and a few pillows. I made my bed, trying hard to personalize my room enough to make it look a little less artificial. Bright, tye dye tie dye sheets, along with a black and pink comforter added a certain, zing to the room. The bed helped, but still didn’t take the fakeness out of the blank, white walls.
I shook my head. These white walls have got to go, I thought, eyes flashing from one wall to the other. Even if I kill myself doing it, this room will have attitude, spunk, and creativity written all over it. White just doesn’t cut it.
Not having anything better to do then unpack, I pulled up some more boxes, and started to unload. First, I put all my clothes in separate drawers in my dresser, eliminating a full box, which I chucked into the hall. Next, my posters came out. Roll after roll of glossy sheets. There were my favorite bands, soccer stars, illusions and abstract shapes, and so much more plastered on them. I hung a large amount of these on the wall, satisfied that they covered up a majority of the whiteness. Now my room was getting funked out, Carson style.
I unpacked most of my things, including my backpack, cosmetics kit, books and lucky furnishings. I left what I knew I didn’t need into one box, pushing it into the corner of my closet. Sooner or later, that box would come out, packed and ready for a trip someplace else.
I sat heavily on my bed, letting my head fall back on my pillow. My unpacking was done. Now what? I had no friends, no hangout spots, and no reputation. I basically had nothing, again. By the time I’d make a name for myself in this town, my mom will have us jumping the coop because of a Dash. I closed my eyes, blocking out the sun, the room, the walls, but most of all, blocking out the misery.
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