WHAT rating would you give the beginning of my story (1-10)

Lizzie Joanson opened her eyes and saw sunlight streaming in through the slightly parted curtains. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the clock. She knew that an hour later she’d be sitting in an overheated classroom trying to do something right. “Lizzie Joanson, get your lazy backside out of bed and into the kitchen this instant!” Lizzie’s mum, a policewoman called Jenny, slammed open the door and strode briskly over to the bed. She pulled Lizzie’s duvet off her and opened the curtains. “Mum! What is your problem?” Lizzie groaned and tried to hide underneath her pillow. The attempt was short-lived as her mum snatched it off her and held it in the air. “Want it, can’t have it. Want it can’t have it.” Jenny Joanson’s smile turned to a look of disgust as she caught a whiff of the sheets hanging over her arm. “When did you last change these sheets?” “Umm, last week I think, or the week before, something like that.” “Pull the other one, they’re manky! When I get home I want to see this bed changed, and you can do your sister’s as well whilst you’re at it.” Lizzie groaned as her mum strode briskly out the room, banging the door as she went. It was sooo unfair that she had to do everything for her two sisters as well as for herself. Rolling out of bed, Lizzie picked her up her Palmenter’s School uniform off the floor where she’d dumped it the night before. A knee length pleated navy skirt, and an embarrassing blue and white checked blouse. Her skirt was so high waisted, it was practically a dress, and her mum always nagged her if she rolled it up to anything above the regulated knee length! Now that she was in year nine, skirt length was a symbol of coolness, the shorter the skirt, the cooler the girl. It was even cooler if they never got told off about it. As she brushed her teeth, Lizzie risked a glance in the mirror. Damn, her hair looked, umm, different? The night before she had acted on impulse and dyed her hair a deep purple colour. Now her bob looked like something out of one of those children’s cartoons that her baby sister watched. To add to that, she had a zit just above her right eyebrow. It didn’t look like today would be a good day in terms of appearence. Lizzie sighed inwardly as she walked into her kitchen, at the table her mum was sat with her ten year old sister, aka, the devil. Kimmy Joanson was the most annoying kid sister in the history of the world, all she did was attempt to look down her long nose at people, and she failed to see that she was a complete loser. “What’s for breakfast?” Lizzie wasn’t normally a big breakfast person, meaning she didn’t bother with it, but her mum was all into ‘a good start to the day’ and all that crap; when she was there Lizzie didn’t even bother arguing, she just ate. “Cheerios and toast.” Ew, Lizzie could not stand either of the choices. “I hate Cheerios!” She put on her ‘I’m a teenager with attitude face’. “It’s always good to try something new, be adventurous.” Kimmy put her spoon down into her already empty bowl and smiled piously. It wasn’t hard to see why Lizzie hated her. “Get a life and shut it.” Lizzie was normally nice-ish to her sister, or at least patronising. First thing on a Monday morning she wasn’t really in a nice mood. “Everybody already has a life, that’s why we’re living.” Such a standard response from Kimmy, it was all she could think of. If she hadn’t been such a cow, Lizzie would’ve felt sorry for her. Jenny Joanson stood up from the table. “Could you two please try and get along for once? I’m off to work, there are ham and mustard sandwiches in the fridge for lunch, don’t forget them!” With that, Jenny headed out to the car. Lizzie watched from the kitchen window as her mum climbed into the old toyota, as she left the driveway, she waved at her. It was their ritual, their special thing, and neither of them ever forgot it. Lizzie jogged up the narrow flight of stairs in the center of her house, and went back into her bedroom. She kissed the photo of her dad, just like she always did. Klark Joanson had dyed in a car accident the year before, and Lizzie thought about him every day.