My mom made us dress up dinner with my grandmother. Even though I loved dresses and jewels, I hated going to my grandmother’s house. It was plain, white and prissy. She couldn’t cook so she had a personal chef. The food was great but my grandmother, not so much. She hadn’t smiled since my grandfather died. She wore Versace and Oscar de la Renta. She always had on pearls that her mother gave her and that she was going to give my mother some day. Her high heels always clicked on the hard wood floor of the dining room and she never walked slowly. Always a brisk walk, she stood tall and proud. Whenever we went to our weekly dinner, she wore the same tan hat and the same white shoes. I don’t even think she had any other shoes. I always wore some frilly dress that my mother thought, and I quote, “Made me look like an actual girl…maybe an angel!”, un-quote. She was always trying to make me more girly. She had her chance every week at six.
My grandmother was part of a high society called the Grace Ridges. It’s a group of preppy, millionaire seniors who could spend that million (or sometimes, billion) dollars on fancy caviar and wine. My grandfather had designed the building in which most of the Woods Lake, New York meetings were held on Saturday, unless they wanted to drive sixty-nine miles to get to New York City He had even been on the board of councilmen for the club. He was the CEO of four com- panies, all related to coffee and snacks. When he died, he even dedicated most of his awards and such t his employees and friends. My grandmother got the money, though, and she made sure of that. Still, ever since, she wasn’t one to spoil her children or grandchildren or even her great-grandchild. She was seventy-seven years old and already at the bottom of the hill.
Tonight was no different. I got home from school at the same time as my little sister. My mom yelled at her for leaving something on during the day. “Leah-Marie James…What were you thinking? You left the…” All I heard before I slammed my door shut. My mother, ever the girly type, laid out three dresses on my day bed. A hideous purple dress that had a big flower on the shoulder, a light blue dress that I had picked out only to find that the frills weren’t detachable, like my mother had told me, and a plain green dress that I actually liked. I looked in the mirror, holding the green dress in front of me.

Is this good? It’s a start of a story about a girl (don’t know the name yet) who is kidnapped and returned after a few weeks and how she gets her life back.
I also need help coming up with a name for her
Not too common but common enough….. like hayden (dont use that please)

XOOXXO

Yea it’s good. I just think you cut your sentences short. Use more commas.

Names :

Leah
Harmony

Oh, and you’ve also given me courage to post my story for advice too :)