Show Me the Voice Contest!

Hey guys! Have you signed up for Brenda Drake's Show Me the Voice Contest yet? If you haven't, hurry up and do it! It's an awesome way to get crits from your peers. And winners get critiques from lit agent Natalie Fischer!

Anyway, here's my entry. I'd love some feedback!  

Because of everyone's EXCELLENT feedback, I've made a few changes. Namely, the opening sentence/paragraph. But a few alterations throughout, as well. So, the updated version is in bold below. Scroll all the way down if you're interested in comparing it to the original (in black).

Title: Cloudburst

Genre: YA Fantasy

For me, blue has never been a peaceful color. It’s the color of water. And a blaring neon reminder of the things I can, but shouldn’t do.

            I was having an even harder time than usual resisting those things this morning.

I glared at the beads of condensation rolling down the window. The itch was strong enough to make my hands shake. I stretched my fingers and rubbed my palms across my jeans. I wouldn’t give in.

A fat droplet caught my eye. It oozed down the glass, shedding a thin, wet trail. It gorged on the smaller beads and ballooned.

Any minute now, it would burst.

I gripped the window frame. A sweat broke across my back. I ached with anticipation.

There was a place in my chest, just below the ribcage that hummed whenever I was near water. Now it swelled to a throb.

I licked my lips. Another bead and the droplet was too heavy. It pealed away from the glass. A shudder raked my spine. It spattered. I felt the jolt deep in my gut.

I sighed; a sound so low it was almost a moan.

            “Nervous?”

I flinched. Forcing a smile, I spun and looked at Mom.

She didn’t see, did she? What would she have seen? I didn’t even do anything. And even if I had, she wouldn’t notice. She wouldn’t know what to look for.

I swallowed the lump that’d lodged itself in my throat. “Why would I be nervous?”

            “First day of your Junior year? Seems like a pretty good reason to me.”

            Oh, that. I shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

And here's the original:

I glared at the drops of condensation rolling down the window. They shimmered in a way that had nothing to do with the sun. In a way I always suspected only I could see.

At least, I don’t know anyone else who has these urges.

A fat droplet caught my eye. It oozed down the glass, shedding a thin, wet trail. It gorged on the smaller beads and ballooned.

Any minute now, it would fall. Burst.

I gripped the window frame. A fevered sweat broke across my back. My heart sped with anticipation.

There was a place in my chest, just below the ribcage that hummed whenever I was near water. Now it swelled to a throb.

The droplet consumed another cluster of dew. I licked my lips. Another bead and it was too heavy. It pealed away from the glass. A shudder raked my spine. It spattered. I felt the jolt deep in my gut.

I sighed; a sound so low it was almost a moan.

            “Nervous?”

I jumped. My cheeks burned. I forced a smile as I spun and looked at Mom.

She didn’t see, did she? What would she have seen? I didn’t even do anything. And even if I had, she wouldn’t notice. She wouldn’t know what to look for.

I swallowed the lump that’d lodged itself in my throat. “Why would I be nervous?”

            “First day of your Junior year? Seems like a pretty good reason to me.”

            Oh, that. I shrugged. “Maybe a little.”