UPDATED - Chapter 1 of "Untitled"

Hey kids,teens and adults! :D I'm a rookie author here so I would really appreciate critizism, even if it is harsh. In fact be really honest. Anyways this is the first piece of work I'm actually serious about so if the beginning is bad, please comment. Thanks!
Oh yeah please try make your reviews as detailed as possible so I can improve the text as much as possible. Merci, grazti, gracias, arigato, etc :P
CHAPTER 1

“Where are my shin pads?” I hollered out of my bedroom door.
“Sister dearest?” a sleepy, hesitant voice questioned.
“What do you want Adam?” I snapped back, throwing tampons and bug repellent in my bag.
“Can you please SHUT UP?” he exclaimed, “Honestly honey, I know you’re excited about camp and all, but I need my sleep and your method of expressing your giddiness is depriving me of hard-earned rest!” Shouting insults back and forth the hallway, we both stopped to acknowledge a third voice that had joined the fray. “Adam? Addie? Have you packed all of your things?” a voice asked earnestly.
“Mom, I can’t find my shin pads; do you know where they are?” I cried in frustration.
“Have you even looked for them?” she replied. Silence followed. “Adelaide Krystal Moretti, maybe if you just cleaned that pig-sty of a room, you would be able to find them. You should follow your brother’s example; he tidies his room daily and actually cares about its hygiene.” I rolled my eyes in response.
Ever since we were little, my twin brother and I have been compared to each other for every little thing. He’s stronger, I’m faster. By far, he has better “fashion sense” than me, even though I’m the girl; but I’m smarter. As twins, (obviously) we look scarily alike (and it’s not like my mom’s urge to give us extremely similar names helped get us mixed up even more). We both have the tall builds and long eyelashes from our Italian dad, and the slimness, silky black hair, smooth skin and exotic look from our Japanese mom. The features add up to the pair of us coming across as “pretty”. Luckily, I have a flat chest which repels unwanted admirers, unlike Adam, who has the misfortune of having creepy stalkers.
I don’t think there is anything more annoying than the swooning girls in my class, dreaming and hoping that Adam just might ask them out. He’s an artistic genius, captain of the basketball team, and is very spunky and sweet. Not to mention sensitive. What more is there to ask for in a guy? Well nothing, besides the fact that he’s gay. Shocked? I wasn’t.
After he plucked up the courage inside that body consisting of 5”10, 160 pounds (mostly muscle) of his, he confessed to my parents and me that his sexual orientation was atypical. I don’t care if he’s gay or not. Adam Kaleb Moretti is my brother, my twin, and I doubt anything could ever stop me from loving him. My parents were cool with it too. My dad didn’t freak out (but that’s probably because he had already given Adam the well-deserved respect between father and son, recognizing him as a “man” when he became captain last year) and my mom cried, hugged him and told him through her sobs that she loves him no matter what, whether he’s attracted to either men or women.
With Adam being an artistic prodigy, keeping up with him was easier said than done. At the age of 15, his amazing sketches have got him a full-scholarship for the FIDM (Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandise) of Los Angeles. It’s easy to see that he got the fashionista genes from my mom. Sadly, I’ve had to experience his critiques on my style ever since I was allowed to pick my own clothes. You see, my summer uniform consists of a loosely-fitted graphic tee, basketball short and running shoes. “Addie, you’ve got a beautiful figure; show it off with tighter shirts and fitted jeans” or “How could you wear a bright red shirt with dark red shorts? You look like a Christmas tree! Whatever you do, NEVER clash your colors!”, etc.
Rewinding to the subject of Adam’s hard competition for mom and dad’s attention; I got dad’s intellect. I have been on the honour roll for every single term and straight A+’s to boot. I guess one could say that I am a jock/nerd. Everyone says that I own a personality that has considerable similarities to the average tomboy. Primarily, sports are my life. I can’t live without the rush of wind against my sweating face as I cross the finish line, the drive of a kick executed onto the surface of a black and white ball.
Looking around my room, I spotted my missing shin pads hiding underneath a load of dirty laundry. On my bed lay a duffle bag filled with clothes. I placed them between my water bottle and cleats, inside a sports bag lying on the floor. I looked through both bags, checking to see if I was missing anything. Soccer ball, spikes (special shoes for track), soccer cleats, water bottle, towel, deodorant, sunscreen, goggles, shin pads. Everything was there, in its place.
After climbing into bed, I turned off my lamp and within seconds of laying my head on my pillow, I drifted into sleep.

“Wake up Addie!” I felt hands on my side, and felt them tickle mercilessly.
“Stop, STOP!” I shouted at the top of my lungs through bursts of laughter.
“Well then drag your lazy ass out of bed!” Adam stated, “I won’t stop till you do, we have to eat breakfast.” I kicked him off of my bed, regaining my breath from his attack.
“I’m up, I’m up.” We scrambled down the stairs, finally reaching the kitchen where steaming pancakes and tall glasses of orange juice waited for us. While chewing on the sweet breakfast goodness, I thought about the 6 weeks ahead of my brother and me. We were going to Camp Sport for Young Athletes in Kingston, Ontario. After reading the brochure that we found in our mailbox, our minds we set. My dad was ecstatic as well, because he approved of anything sports related. CSYA was a training camp for teen athletes who played the following sports: soccer, basketball, football, tennis, track and baseball.
With sunglasses on, baseball hats on our heads and bags in our hands, we waited for the school bus at the stop where it we pick us up and our fellow Montréal campers. Down the road, we could see a chunky yellow school bus coming our way. It stopped at a screech and the doors opened with a sigh. We gave our dad a hug, kissed our mom’s tear-streaked face and hurried into the vehicle to avoid further embarrassment. We sat on a hard plastic bench; my brother taking the window seat, and myself on its aisle. Adam took out his camera, patiently waiting for the bus to pass by the beautiful landscapes of Ontario. I on the other hand, took out my iPod, put in my earphones and blanked out the noise of the other campers with hard rock. I drifted off to sleep yet again, listening to the tunes of Nirvana, AC/DC and Metallica. Waking up with a start from unexpected bumpiness of the dirt road, I yawned and checked my watch. I had only been asleep for 3 hours. Relieved, I smiled and thought to myself, “Only another half an hour Addie”, when out of nowhere, I felt someone staring at me. I turned my head to face the culprit.
He was a looked as if he was around the same age as me, with dark brown hair and big blue eyes. He wore a Brazilian soccer jersey with Pele’s number 10. Giving him an interrogating look, raising an eyebrow, he became aware that I noticed, and blushed furiously. “That was weird…” I thought to myself. I looked over to my right, watching my brother sleep. I took his camera and looked outside the window. I snapped photos of the fauna we passed by. Driving through the woods, we saw it: “Camp Sport for Young Athletes” in a big black font painted on a wooden sign. The whole bus cheered and Adam awakened. “Are we there yet?” he asked groggily, covering his mouth, yawning. At that moment, the bus entered a clearing and parked in front of a small cabin with “HEAD OFFICE” painted on its door. We had arrived.