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Can you help edit my story. Its not finished yet. Also can you add stuff to the end or tell me what going t o happen next.
Secrets Behind Her Smile
“Were moving” was the first thing my mother announced that terrible morning. Moving? Moving where I thought. This meant that my friends would no longer be friends but more like distant contacts, my school would no longer be called Jefferson Middle School, and my favorite teacher’s name wouldn’t be Mr. Lancester. Everyone was silent for a moment, and all I could hear was the ticking of our wooden clock, and the crackling of the fireplace. I just couldn’t believe it! The next thing I heard was my mother’s beloved china smash onto the ground.
“James, to your room now” my dad yelled sternly.

“You’re ruining my life!” my brother yelled back, and ran angrily up the stairs.

My brother’s life was perfect as school as he was the most popular kid. The kid that everyone knew. The kid that wore the expensive out – fits and whistled at girls as they walked through the aisle. Moron. The girls, of course didn’t mind, with his blond hair, huge muscles, and sparkling green eyes. But home wasn’t the same. He was constantly fighting with our parents about his grades, his inappropriate clothes, and his constant partying. I, though, was a goodie-two shoe or so I thought. I had dull brown eyes, plain black hair, and a very slim body.
I was usually the one standing on his side, sort of scrunched up in the corner. If I wasn’t with my brother, I was with my best friend Sean. Me and Sean were as tight as size two jeans on a fat man. We met each other in the third grade. Ever since that, we have been best friends.
But as I thought about this whole moving thing, I couldn’t help but agree with my brother. We had been living here for our whole lives and just to go like that? No way! But of course my parents had made up their minds.
I locked myself into the bathroom, and dropped to the floor, not feeling the pain as I hit my hand on the knob. As I felt the tickle of my tears come down my cheek, I heard a knock on the door. It was my mother telling me two hurry up. I picked myself up and covered any sign of me crying. The last thing I want was to throw a tantrum.
“Hurry up”, my mother said pleasantly.
“Ok”, I quickly answered back. I quickly splashed my face with water from the sink and looked at my reflection. I looked like a mess. But there was no time for that. I got out just before our red truck pulled by.
I hated that truck. My parents were it as a present from my unc;e. As we got in, my brother, of course, began his daily annoyance by starting to sing.
“Lalalalalalalala” He began to screech as his way of warming up. As he sang, we were beginning to get out of our drive through.
“Memememememe!!” he sang on.
James! My father yelled while trying to keep control of the car.
“What the hell do you-” he stopped. We wondered why he was gazing at the window. We looked at what he was looking out and scram. There was a big red truck, almost identical to ours, coming straight for………..
Us!
Honk! Honk! The truck went. But that didn’t help. We were seconds away from crashing.
Bam!
Then, everything went blank.
36 hours 2 minutes 10 seconds later……………………….
“Wake up sweetheart” I heard when I was just beginning to wake up. Where was I? How did I get here? Many thoughts came through my mind.
“Huh. Where am I”, I said uneasily.
“She’s awake” the woman cried to other people in the room, “You’ve been through a terrible car crash, honey.” The crash!!, I thought.
I jumped from my bed and surprised everyone with my energy after an accident.
“The crash” I yelled “What happened?. Where am I? Where are my parents and James?” I finished as if I was in a hurry.
“There is something I have to tell you, sugar”. There was an uneasy feeling about her. Like she was confessing a crime or something.
“Well, as you might have remembered you were in a terrible car crash. You made it out alive with only a few broken bones. But not everyone was lucky. Mat, Monica, and James weren’t so lucky.

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WHat should i write next?
Secrets Behind Her Smile
“Were moving” was the first thing my mother announced that terrible morning. Moving? Moving where I thought. This meant that my friends would no longer be friends but more like distant contacts, my school would no longer be called Jefferson Middle School, and my favorite teacher’s name wouldn’t be Mr. Lancester. Everyone was silent for a moment, and all I could hear was the ticking of our wooden clock, and the crackling of the fireplace. I just couldn’t believe it! The next thing I heard was my mother’s beloved china smash onto the ground.
“James, to your room now” my dad yelled sternly.

“You’re ruining my life!” my brother yelled back, and ran angrily up the stairs.

My brother’s life was perfect as school as he was the most popular kid. The kid that everyone knew. The kid that wore the expensive out – fits and whistled at girls as they walked through the aisle. Moron. The girls, of course didn’t mind, with his blond hair, huge muscles, and sparkling green eyes. But home wasn’t the same. He was constantly fighting with our parents about his grades, his inappropriate clothes, and his constant partying. I, though, was a goodie-two shoe or so I thought. I had dull brown eyes, plain black hair, and a very slim body.
I was usually the one standing on his side, sort of scrunched up in the corner. If I wasn’t with my brother, I was with my best friend Sean. Me and Sean were as tight as size two jeans on a fat man. We met each other in the third grade. Ever since that, we have been best friends.
But as I thought about this whole moving thing, I couldn’t help but agree with my brother. We had been living here for our whole lives and just to go like that? No way! But of course my parents had made up their minds.
I locked myself into the bathroom, and dropped to the floor, not feeling the pain as I hit my hand on the knob. As I felt the tickle of my tears come down my cheek, I heard a knock on the door. It was my mother telling me two hurry up. I picked myself up and covered any sign of me crying. The last thing I want was to throw a tantrum.
“Hurry up”, my mother said pleasantly.
“Ok”, I quickly answered back. I quickly splashed my face with water from the sink and looked at my reflection. I looked like a mess. But there was no time for that. I got out just before our red truck pulled by.
I hated that truck. My parents were it as a present from my unc;e. As we got in, my brother, of course, began his daily annoyance by starting to sing.
“Lalalalalalalala” He began to screech as his way of warming up. As he sang, we were beginning to get out of our drive through.
“Memememememe!!” he sang on.
James! My father yelled while trying to keep control of the car.
“What the hell do you-” he stopped. We wondered why he was gazing at the window. We looked at what he was looking out and scram. There was a big red truck, almost identical to ours, coming straight for………..
Us!
Honk! Honk! The truck went. But that didn’t help. We were seconds away from crashing.
Bam!
Then, everything went blank.
36 hours 2 minutes 10 seconds later……………………….
“Wake up sweetheart” I heard when I was just beginning to wake up. Where was I? How did I get here? Many thoughts came through my mind.
“Huh. Where am I”, I said uneasily.
“She’s awake” the woman cried to other people in the room, “You’ve been through a terrible car crash, honey.” The crash!!, I thought.
I jumped from my bed and surprised everyone with my energy after an accident.
“The crash” I yelled “What happened?. Where am I? Where are my parents and James?” I finished as if I was in a hurry.
“There is something I have to tell you, sugar”. There was an uneasy feeling about her. Like she was confessing a crime or something.
“Well, as you might have remembered you were in a terrible car crash. You made it out alive with only a few broken bones. But not everyone was lucky. Mat, Monica, and James weren’t so lucky.

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I know I’ve already posted this once, and I got two wonderful answers, but I’d really like to get a couple more if I could! I really want to improve my writing, so any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

Joseph Danske, who preferred to be called "Jojo", studied the crowd that stood across the street as he waited for the crossing signal to turn to "walk". He didn’t exactly like what he saw. For one thing, there wasn’t a lot of variety in color, most people he could see were dressed in green and black, the school colors. That was a bad sign. He thought of the cherry red jeans he was wearing, and sighed. Jojo was a skinny, blonde, medium-tall boy of sixteen. He had a very sharp face, and his eyes were sea-green, fringed with dark, thick lashes. He eyes, he thought, were his best feature, so he played them up with makeup.
Maybe I should’ve been a little more conservative for the first day, he thought. He hadn’t wanted to move to this little town; he’d loved St. Paul. Now, he was, face-to-face with the dilapidated brick building that was Sanderson High School. He already missed his old school. Why had his dad had to transfer? And to here, Paxton, South Dakota, of all places?
The crossing signal turned to "walk" and he crossed the street, painfully aware of his hip-swinging gait. He pulled his thighs together and tried
to walk "normal", like other boys did, but to no avail. He gave it up in a matter of seconds. They’ll just have to take me for what I am, he thought determinedly.
As he walked across the water-deprived lawn toward the school, he felt people staring at him. The loud, ostentatious conversations turned quickly to hushed whispers, some giggles, as he passed. Keeping his head up, he pushed his long, blonde bangs out of his eyes. As he looked around for a friendly face, Jojo accidentally made eye contact with a large, burly fellow in a letter jacket who looked like he wanted to sock Jojo in the face. The boy was standing with a few others who looked practically identical to him. All of them looked at him with narrowed eyes. All that muscle, thought Jojo, but with fright rather than appreciation. He quickly went to stand as far away from that group as possible.
As he stood there, in that little out of the way corner, he listened, zeroing in on conversations, trying to find one he could jump into.
"Dude, are you kidding me? Bethany Morgan? Like, how did she make cheerleader? She’s never even…"
"Transformers, man. Best movie ever. That chick is hot."
"Our varsity is gonna be so good this year; Johannes is quarterback."
"So, I was thinking this year, like, for homecoming, we could, like…"
"Yea, well, Coach Jones is gonna really crack down about that this semester…"
"Oh my god, you can’t have Rhodes! All her test days mess up our volleyball schedule!"
"Well, personally, Rogers and Hammerstein isn’t my favorite. I mean, it isn’t bad, but I kind of tend to prefer people like Schwartz or Sondheim. Or Sir Andrew."
Jojo whirled around. Somebody was discussing Broadway composers- who? Where? Were there cultured people to be found in this hick-town?
Then, he saw them; two girls, standing a little apart from everybody else. One of them was blonde, her thick hair in a waist-length plait. She was medium height, and in terrific shape. She wore a fitted, bright pink top advertising "International Music Camp", dark-wash skinny jeans, and knee-length, light pink, suede, flat boots. The other girl, the one who’d spoken, was taller. No, wait, she wasn’t. It was just her shoes. She was wearing black peep-toe heels with buckles, black tights, and a purple knit mini-dress, along with perfectly matched jewelry. She had long, wavy dark brown hair, and was extremely pretty. Jojo wondered if there was a way he could start talking to them. Just as the blonde girl started to reply that she actually loved Rogers and Hammerstein musicals, her friend noticed Jojo.
"Hi!" she said, looking at him with a winning smile, "I’ve never seen you before- are you new?"
"What? Oh. Yeah- I just got here yesterday, actually. I’m from St. Paul."
"Nice place", said the blonde girl, "I was there last summer with my aunt."
"I miss it."
The brunette smiled sympathetically. "What’s your name, hon?" she asked.
"Jojo- that’s really Joseph. Jojo Danske."
"That’s a nice name. Snazzy- I like it. I’m Johanna Di Marcie", she replied, energetically shaking Jojo’s hand.
"Madison Schumann", said the blonde, with a smile and a conservative wave.
"Wow, you’re cute", said Johanna, studying Jojo up and down, "What do you do?"
"What- what do I do?" asked Jojo, confused.
"She means", explained Madison, "What are you in to? Do you like to write, run, dance, draw, swim, act, sing…?"
"Oh! Well, I sing, for one- tenor, or countertenor, somewhat. I love acting, yes… and I do dance. Ballet, tap, jazz, hip-hop and ballroom, since I was eight."
Johanna and Madison looked at each other. Suddenly, Jojo
was met with a stifling hug from Johanna as Madison clapped with glee.
Johanna looked into Jojo’s eyes meaningfully. "Where have you been all our lives?!" she asked.

(Apparently it’s too long to all fit in the first box)

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