Young Writers Society

“What is going on Mum?” I yelled. She and Dad exchanged looks. It was while I was rummaging around in the storage closet when I came across something horrifying. Something that has changed my life forever.
“Or should I even call you Mum?” I added sternly. Mum’s face was pale as the eye could see, and Dad started to well up.
He was always a softy at heart.
Tears rolled down Mum’s cheeks as she began to speak.
“Anya, darling,” She rubbed my arm, but I pulled away. “What you found isn’t as bad as you seem to think it is. We loved you the minute we laid eyes on you. We never wanted you to find out this way.”
Piles of adoption papers sat on the shelf above my head, while I was looking for old family photos to go into my art book. It was the adoption paper that stated my name and my adoptive parents names that gave me the wave of disbelief.
I was two-years-old when I was adopted, my mother died during birth and it was until I was found alone in a house with my dead father beside me that I realised I had no family.
But the lady and man who wanted me, who gave me a chance to have a proper family, were there for me. I didn’t comprehend it until just then, when I bounded onto them, that I still loved them.
All the temper tantrums, the time I accidentally spilt cola on the new cream carpet, the time I broke my ankle and had to be rushed to A&E, when Matt dumped me for the `other girl` are all times where my mum and dad have been there for me, and my real ones haven’t.
I appreciate how Mum and Dad have managed to put up with me for all these years. What a way for a fifteen-year-old girl to discover she is not actually blood related to the people she cares for.

Congrats on being published. The writing itself is sound. However this is blighted with cliches and at times weak imagery/writing.

Blue = Weak writing
Red = Cliche

“What is going on Mum?” I yelled. She and Dad exchanged looks. It was while I was rummaging around in the storage closet(comma) when I came across something horrifying. Something that has changed my life forever.
“Or should I even call you Mum?” I added sternly. Mum’s face was pale as the eye could see, and Dad started to well up.
He was always a softy at heart.
Tears rolled down Mum’s cheeks as she began to speak.
“Anya, darling,” She rubbed my arm, but I pulled away. “What you found isn’t as bad as you seem to think it is. We loved you the minute we laid eyes on you. We never wanted you to find out this way.”
Piles of adoption papers sat on the shelf above my head, while I was looking for old family photos to go into my art book. It was the adoption paper that stated my name and my adoptive parents names that gave me the wave of disbelief.
I was two-years-old when I was adopted, my mother died during birth and it was until I was found alone in a house with my dead father beside me that I realised I had no family.
But the lady and man who wanted me, who gave me a chance to have a proper family, were there for me. I didn’t comprehend it until just then, when I bounded onto them, that I still loved them.
All the temper tantrums, the time I accidentally spilt cola on the new cream carpet, the time I broke my ankle and had to be rushed to A&E, when Matt dumped me for the `other girl` are all times where my mum and dad have been there for me, and my real ones haven’t.
I appreciate how Mum and Dad have managed to put up with me for all these years. What a way for a fifteen-year-old girl to discover she is not actually blood related to the people she cares for.

It seems like a lot and don't take it too hard. Because you have a natural voice, and a good style. So just take care with worn cliches and poor images, and you will be grand.

JP

I agree with the above commenter, very good advice. Personally, I think this is a bit short and I was confused here:

I was two-years-old when I was adopted; my mother died during birth, and it was until I was [restructure this], "and until I was" found alone in a house with my dead father beside me that I realised I had no family [restructure this because she was obviously unable to realize this at 2, and second of all, I don't think "realize" is the right word to use, it's more like something happened to her, and she is discovering this now as a teenager, so "I discovered I had no family after the age of two" is clunky but clearer].
But the lady and man who wanted me, who gave me a chance to have a proper family, were there for me. I didn’t comprehend it until just then, when I bounded onto [this might be regional slang that I'm just not getting, but I imagine "bounding" as running fast or leaping, like through a field] them, that I still loved them.

Congratulations on publication! It's a great start, keep working!