The One Night

Rebecca, or as we call her Becca, the girl that was my friend, but now doesn't check her e-mail. I used send her heart-warming e-mails, but I got no reply. I capitulated and stopped sending things to her. I think back, when we had fun and when we hung out.

She had blond short curly hair, at least that's what she had the last time I saw her. She a bit taller than most people but I didn't care. I liked her for her personality, not because she lived in a big house. My father and her father both worked at the American Embassy. I don't know if they talked or even glanced at each other except when he sent me to Becca's house.

One day we had a sleepover, it took place at my house. We talked, laughed, and played, for she was one of those girls that make people laugh all the time. She really emphisizes on her jokes and makes them funny. We sat next to each other in the car and listened to music on the way to dinner. There were many places to eat at that they sold food for a cheap price.

The sleepover went great until we were bringing her back home. We were talking about how fun it would be if we had a double sleepover. So we asked her mother if we could have another sleepover on a week day, however she said no. If only Becca didn't ask, then she wouldn't have been grounded for a month. If we didn't ask I could've had more memories of her. I should have just waited for the next week. If only we didn't ask.

The New School

Step by step I approached the school slamming the car door. I looked around at the environment around the school. When I looked around curiously, I heard two other car doors slam. Around was a big grassy field, and two buildings that looked really big. One was next to the big grassy field while the other building was on the other side of the road. Father and brother were following behind me when I walked into the building on the other side of the road. I candid my opinion about all the pressure of the test, and that it seemed scary. Apparently in front of that building was space for parking, probably for buses or cars, though at the time there weren't any.

We entered the main office of the building and confronted them that we were ready, my heart, beating faster and faster until I finally calmed down. I had already enrolled and was going to take the entrance exam. I flustered when the woman brought me to the couch just outside of the office. I was called by her, and I retorted my answer trying to be polite. She brought me upstairs to a room, that looked like a class room. My other members of the family waited while I was the first to take the exam. The waited anxiously while I, scared and nervous. What if I failed? What if I didn't get in? I would have to go to that school, the international one, the one my father told me had a few bullies.

My thirty minute stint for the test was incredibly easier than I thought it would be. I finished and was taken back down to the area where the couch was. The first things I heard was that I did a good job and that I was most likely to be accepted and that it was my brother's turn. Before my brother left, he asked a few questions. Was it hard? Was it okay? How was it? These questions were asked and I answered, it's okay. We waited until my brother came down with the woman. My father and the woman chatted for a while and soon my father got up. He said goodbye and so did we (For good manners). We walked outside and got into the car. That was that.

Feeling Weak

During P.E. on the 20^th of November was the day I dreaded. We were told the previous day that we, the girls were going to have to do some pull-ups. I hated them because I could never do them as much as the other girls could. I hated the feeling that I was weak because it was so true. My legs, I had no control of them, they just kept walking to the locker room. When I arrived with my friends, Mari, Nysha, Yeji and Violeta, we all went to the locker room and changed. We changed, just like normal, and left the locker room.

At the beginning it seemed like a normal P.E. class, but it wasn't. All the girls and boys met at the big gym, waiting to be commanded or told what to do. We sat on the stage, and waited. Shortly after, the coaches came and told us what to do. The boys were sent to the room G-3, the waiting room where you do things. They probably had to do sit-ups. While the boys went there, the girls were sent out back where the pull-up bars were, there was the short one and the tall one.

"I can't do this, just too much pressure! What if all the girls laugh at me?" I thought. Each girl, picked one by one to do as many pull-ups as they could. Many girls went and did their pull-ups, including some of my friends, until it came to be me next. My name was called and I gulped. I walked to the short bar, and waited for her instruction to say "Go.".

She said it, and I jumped up. I did one but the first one didn't count, then I dropped a little for my head to fall under the bar and tried to pull myself up. But I couldn't, I tried and tried to pull myself up, but I just couldn't. I was terrified, why couldn't I pull myself up? After about two tries of pulling myself up, I dropped down, embarrassed. I couldn't even do one while other girls did like ten or eight. I was ashamed, but kept going with P.E. until it was over and felt the shame inside me.

The Unwrapped Gift

Last Christmas, I remember it clearly. It wasn't an ordinary day at school, there was a Christmas sale near the field where they sell little handicraft items: mini stockings, wooden dolls, handmade jewelry, bookmarks. They were separate little stores with their own inventory. I just browsed around and looked for something to content my mother.

I brought my mother a mini stocking for Christmas. I wrapped it up with wrapping paper and set it under the artificial white decorated tree ready for the special day to come. It waited and waited for the grasp of a hand to open it up. To see the surprised look of the person who opened it.

The days that followed Christmas were cold and filled with misery for the present, still under the tree reading "To:Mom". She still didn't touch it until the following year.

She finally picked it up after I told her, showed her and put it in her face, the present she should have opened the previous year. She held it after I had given it to her, but just put it in a drawer.

I was disappointed, I wanted to see her face, her expression when she saw it, but it wasn't meant to be. She was probably just unaccustomed to the idea of gifts. I don't think she has opened it even now. I just wish I could see her face when she decides to open it. I wish she opened it when the time was right. I realized that she was unaccustomed to the idea, but I still wish I could see her face.

15 Word Wednesday

For English class everyone in the class had to write a 15 Word Wednesday. Now usually we only do 3 Word Wednesday but this time was different than the rest. We all walked into class as normal. Sitting in our seats that we always sat in. The lesson began. We went over how to use colons. After going over that we were asked to take out our "Wordly Wise" book. Soon we had a pen, the "Wordly Wise" book and our Writing Challenges book out on our desk. This was the first day, so we started to write after our teacher told us to use 10 of the wording in the "Lesson 5" list.We worked and finished it for homework.

The next day, we came in and our teacher asked us to use the remaining 5 words to either add to the story or add it as an ending. I personally added it as an ending. This was my story.

My Clique

I don't want to mention any names. The clique had 6 girls in it. The size of the group was adequate. One of my friends would administer the group activities, and she did a great job at it. Before the bell rang, we would all hang out then go to the locker. If we ever agitated her, we would regret ever doing that. The consequences were unreasonable.

When I did something wrong I regretted it. I would feel very bad and always capitulated to her every time; sometimes apologizing wasn't enough.

Once I didn't give in and the next day, instead of going to class with me she went with another one of our friends. I was always depressed when I made a mistake; she had a way of making me feel guilty.

She usually toiled and struggled with her homework; calling me when she had trouble. She always told the group what happened to her the previous day. Everything she said seemed so important, and it usually was. It was always really urgent for her to tell us what happened. She was usually caring but sometimes she was indifferent. When she did her homework it was strenuous but we would do it together most of the time, if I didn't understand something she would explain, and vise versa. We had some rough spots together but we got past it and ended up having fun.

She did not live in a hovel. Her home was terrific and had many great qualities but that's not why I liked her. She was kind: sweet, caring and understanding.

Onetime she came to my house, we were going to her house (her mother was upset because she was supposed to be home by then). We were rushing and before I knew it I fell on the stairs. I had disrupted the rush against time. I was crying so much that she stopped to help me after about three or four minutes. We had great times together. I showed her the bruise that I got and she was really surprised. We even took pictures together: funny faces, hugging, friendship things.

During recess/lunch; I held the citrus juice pack in my had with the straw poked in already. Lunch was respite for us from having class all the time. During lunch everyone went to their lockers and went to their classes with their supplies all prepared. I had so many friends and I would hang out with all but one girl; I hanged out with her the most.

When I first met the group in 5th grade I thought it would be permanent: that we would always be together. We were the kind of group that would help each other! Some people did menial work at times, but just because this is so; it doesn't mean that there were people who are dumb. If you went to my group you wouldn't see any illiterate people. Everyone in the group was so smart.

We would always try our best, then if needed asked for help from our friends. Most of the time we would explain to each other what we didn't understand. We always had each other to get help from. Then I moved away from them and haven't seen them since the end of 6th grade; I miss them so much.

Well that was my story. I edited it a bit from the one in my book but its basically the same thing. I hoped you enjoyed the description of one of my dear friends. Thank you.