I'm losing points so please answer this... does my writing suck? and fi you don't read fanfiction, Y/n stands for Your Name. Also it's not fully complete, I just put half of what I wrote.

“You don’t need to do this Y/n… you know that right?!” A voice echoed beside you. Instantly, you peered your head from above the cracked pavement to see your best friend's distressed look. “No… but I want to” You said flatly, the winter breeze pulling on your hair off your face, as your maxi-skirt flapped behind you. It was Monday morning—the first of February and the time is 8:48, twelve minutes until class starts. Today's Monday was different, this was the first day of The Bet.

You and Armin rounded the corner of Jamaica Ave, you both sauntered the school's smooth concrete steps leading up to a large–doored entrance. On most mornings, outside was crowded, for the most part this school has a large football field, most of the kids sat on top the bleachers before the bell rang for class. It was cold out so it made more sense to not hang outside, except for adults of New York, it was still rush hour in the morning, in which various individuals would cross one side of the city to the other by train or bus. At each corner, there were convenience stores, most packed with students, waiting for their sandwich or simply buying juice and chips. On the remaining two sides were small apartments, with rows of bricked steps leading up to the families front wooden-door entrance and The Cypress Hills cemetery, that overshadowed the dull street.

You were entering from outside, with Armin following right behind you. A slight frown etched across your face as you and Armin began to stroll through the crowded hallway, your eyes diverting to the lockers that lined up on each side of you, you pushed your way through the crowd, stopping in front of your locker. There were two students you recognize, though you never once bothered to communicate with them— a brown-haired girl with a ponytail and a short gray-haired boy— You were briefly reminded of the two slackers' caste status. They both were slouching on the floor, food crumbs and gaming cards scrambled around the polished concrete floor. That won’t last for too long, you thought to yourself, eyes cast down.

“Y/n.” Armin said, glancing at my open locker as he strolled up beside me, “Like I said over and over again, you don’t have to do this… maybe we could just watch a movie...together?”

You frown, “It’s not that easy Armin, I told you plenty of times I'm going through with this, and I don’t have time to watch movies.” You say, harshly closing your locker door, grasping the books you collected for class, abruptly feeling your bladder swollen, and pressed against the tight waistband of your maxi skirt, you mentally thank your skirt for covering half your lower body, helping your situation not be too noticeable for the blind eyes of the hallway— except for one visible blue set of hues. You pressed your legs slightly close together, biting your lips

First paragraph is good below i had reworded some of your words please tell me if you like it or not

Explanation:

You and Armin adjusted the edge of Jamaica Ave, you both walked the school's smooth solid advances paving the way to an enormous doored entrance. On most mornings, outside was packed, generally this school has a huge football field, the vast majority of the children sat on top the seats before the ringer rang for class. It was cold out so it seemed well and good to not hang outside, aside from grown-ups of New York, it was as yet busy time in the first part of the day, in which different people would cross one side of the city to the next via train or transport. At each corner, there were general stores, generally loaded with understudies, sitting tight for their sandwich or essentially purchasing juice and chips. On the excess different sides were little condos, with columns of bricked steps paving the way to the families front wooden-entryway entrance and The Cypress Slopes graveyard, that dominated the dull road.

You were entering from outside, with Armin following right behind you. A slight scowl scratched across your face as you and Armin walked around the jam-packed foyer, your eyes redirecting to the storage spaces that arranged on each side of you, you pushed your way through the group, halting before your storage. There were two understudies you perceive, however you not even once tried to speak with them—an earthy colored haired young lady with a braid and a short silver haired kid—You were momentarily helped to remember the two good-for-nothings' rank status. The two of them were slumping on the floor, food scraps and gaming cards mixed around the cleaned solid floor. That will not keep going for a really long time, you contemplated internally, eyes cast down.

"Y/n." Armin said, looking at my open storage as he walked around close to me, "Similar to I said again and again, you don't need to do this… perhaps we could simply watch a movie...together?"

You scowl, "It isn't so much that simple Armin, I revealed to you a lot of times I'm proceeding with this, and I don't have the opportunity to watch films." You say, cruelly shutting your storage entryway, getting a handle on the books you gathered for class, suddenly feeling your bladder swollen, and squeezed against the tight belt of your maxi skirt, you intellectually thank your skirt for covering a large portion of your lower body, helping your circumstance not be excessively recognizable for the visually impaired eyes of the lobby—aside from one noticeable blue arrangement of tones. You squeezed your legs somewhat near one another, gnawing your lips

the answer is counterpoint.

counterpoint definition: "the art or technique of playing a melody or melodies in conjunction with another, according to fixed rules."

counterpoint is present in a lot of baroque music- such as bach (notably his wtc prelude and fugues) and scarlatti, but can also be found in music by mozart, beethoven. it can even be found in music as modern as john williams!