Is This Story Good Enough To Enter In A Writing Contest?

glamour kills.★ asks:

this an excerpt from my entry into a writing contest at my school. do you think i have a chance of winning? it’s called, “Once A Friend, Now an Enemy.”

I called Adam to come pick me up at the nearest phone booth. I was officially done with trying to be Leighton’s friend, and was tired of being hurt. As I sat on the hard, cold, metal bench, I closed my eyes and sighed. What a day this had turned out to be.
“Are you alright, Medina?”
I looked up into the face of Adam. He had a small, blue hat on, and carried a teddy bear in his arms, offering it to me.
“Thought you might need this,” he said, “since your depressed and all that.”
I smiled and took the stuffed animal from his hands.
“You know,” I began, “I never would have thought that Leighton would choose Kiore over me.”
Adam sat down beside me, wincing as he felt the coldness of the bench stiffen his buttocks.
“Well, she wasn’t all that great of a friend to you, and it’s not your fault that she decided to move on…without you,” he said.
“Adam,” I said sighing, “please just take me home.”
Adam nodded and stood up. He took the car keys out of his pocket, and walked up the long path to the car.

When I got home, I ran up the stairs to my room and picked up the phone. I searched through my contacts anxiously and finally found the number I was looking for.
“Hello?” an exhausted, raspy voice answered.
“Hey, Quilla,” I said, trying to sound perky.
“Medina? Hey, how are you?” she answered. I could hear crying in the background, and instantly thought I had called at the wrong time.
My poor childhood friend Quilla had a baby. Her boyfriend had told her that if she loved him she would have sex. They didn’t use protection, and Quilla had little baby Abigail.
“I am great. Have I called at a bad time?” I questioned.
“Yes, sort of, I was breastfeeding Abigail,” she answered.
“Ok, I’ll call back later. Bye.”
“Bye,” she answered.
I sighed as the line went dead. I had no one to talk to, and no one to share my feelings with.
“Hey, sweetheart,” my mother said as she entered the room.
“What do you want?” I grumbled.
“Can’t I just talk to you?” she asked.
“No, go away! Your part of the reason I’m depressed!” I screamed.
Instead of storming in my room and demanding I talk to her, she closed the door silently. As I cried, I listened to her feet clunk down the hall, and her bedroom door close. I pulled myself off the bed, and walked over to the mirror. I pinched my stomach area and sighed.
“I am so fat,” I mumbled.
I took my towel off of the hamper and walked into the bathroom. I stared at the purple colored walls, and the white tiles that were starting to chip. I got down on my knees and leant my face over the toilet.
“This isn’t healthy,” I said aloud.
But right now, this moment, I didn’t care. I cleared my throat and released all my anger, all my frustration, all my sadness, into the white toilet, that swallowed it up like an abyss.

I woke up with my face slumped against the toilet. I yawned, and reached up to flush my frustration down the toilet.
“Medina, breakfast!” Juliet called up the stairs.
My mouth watered. Just thinking about my sisters French toast, and sausage, made me want to run downstairs and demand a plate.
“I’m not hungry!” I forced myself to say. Even though my stomach was growling, I still refused.
I stood up and walked over to the full length mirror in my room. I pinched an invisible layer of belly fat, and groaned.
I went back into the bathroom, and leaned over the toilet.
“Hey, Medina, I fixed you a plate. What the heck are you doing!?”Juliet screamed, as she saw me puke up all the fat that was never there.
“Um, my stomach hurt?” I answered, confused.
“I noticed you weren’t eating much, and you stayed up way past your bedtime, and you would lock yourself in the bathroom,” Juliet said as she sat down on the floor.
“Ever since Leighton betrayed me, I decided to puke away my problems, and it keeps me looking nice and thin,” I responded as I wiped my mouth clean.
“Yes, it may help you cope with that, but it also eats away at your tooth enamel, and doesn’t make way for a healthy lifestyle, Medina,” Juliet said.
I sighed. “Look at my stomach, Juliet. Look!”
She looked at my stomach and shook her head. “You’re not fat, Medina.”
I sighed, and walked out of the bathroom. I was tired of people telling me lies. Since Leighton had betrayed my trust and friendship, I was really skeptical of people in general.
“Juliet, can you give some privacy please? I think I’m going to try and call Leighton to sort this whole thing out,” I said, as I picked up the phone.
“Um, sure, I’ll be downstairs, okay?” she said as she picked up the plate she had brought, and left.
I jumped onto my bed and dialed Leighton’s number, praying she picked up.
“Hello?” Leighton’s stuck up voice echoed throug

Best answer:

Answer by *~LiTtLe MiSs CrEaTiVe~*
It’s great, but try to maybe not just focus on just having an ememy! You kind of set a bad example by that. But thats just my opinion! Maybe just change the title to fit with the story! Then i guess it would be AWESOME!

8 thoughts on “Is This Story Good Enough To Enter In A Writing Contest?

  1. Show, don’t tell. And as a person who had an eating disorder, I can tell you that it was not at all like that.

  2. it’s good.

    but don’t forget to describe each character’s personalities and interests ad physical appearances. Be more creative. Do not only say “Her eyes are blue and her hair is brown”. Try something else like “Her eyes looked like her mother’s blue eyes, and her hair color is like Jennifer Lopez’ or something.

  3. I only really read the first section. I liked it, dont know about the rest, I dont like reading to much unless its the whole story. good work, keep it going

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