GT Class

Note: This story is meant to be a comedy to make fun of the GT class at Greely Middle School. The events in it may be completely random and are not meant to upset anyone.

Rachael walked delicately down the stairs, so as not to sound like a clomping horse. After all, her main goal was to be viewed as a lady-not a stomping dork.

Mrs. Casson was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, talking joyously to Mrs. T.

Rachael’s upper lip automatically poised up into a slight sneer. God, this whole school was weird. She hated everything about it-from its puke-green walls to its mysterious cafeteria “food.” She couldn’t wait until she became a star-then she could make fun of her old middle school to the editors of People, Star, and US Weekly. She smiled, just the thought of being in a magazine helping to carry her through the day.

Suddenly, a bush of curly red hair turned away from Rachael, and Mrs. Casson’s beady eyes stared her down.

“Rachael!” Skwaked Mrs. Casson, as she continued to stare Rachael down. “Isn’t that outfit a bit inappropriate??” Upon hearing the criticism, Rachael immediately covered up her athletic legs with her small blue notebook, and rolled her eyes.

“No, Mrs. Casson. There’s NOTHING wrong with it, thankyouverymuch,” replied Rachael calmly as she breezed by her teacher.

“Ian, how do you spell convoluted??” Asked Maggie, pushing her shiny bangs away from her forehead.

“Maggie, are you kidding?? That’s the easiest word I know!!” scoffed Ian as he rolled his eyes. This girl was ridiculous.

“Well SAH-REE, Mr. Smarty-pants. It’s not MY fault I got the popularity and you got the brains!” Maggie snapped as she twirled a piece of hair around her delicate finger.

“Allie, you spelled KAWW wrong. You should know crow speak, you insolent fool!!” screamed Myles, his face turning a dark shade of purple.

Allie might have answered with a brilliant retort-if she were awake. She lay wrapped up in an extra-large sweatshirt on the floor, snoring quietly.

As Rachael walked to her desk, she surveyed the rest of the room. Myles was staring intently at a crow sitting outside; Colby and Will were fighting each other, using their pencils as light-sabers. Ian was at his desk, his nose literally inside a book titled “How to get a perfect SAT score.” Miranda, Alexis, and Anna were all giggling, looking at pictures in Miranda’s cat magazine. Maggie was smiling at a picture of her in her last swim meet, scrolling over it on iPhoto. Jamie was reading a book about taming squirrels, and Bob was multitasking-giving Myles death stares while hacking into the school’s computer system. Allie had rolled over, and now had her angular nose pressed against the wall. Rachael was secretly jealous of Allie-what a perfect nose!!! She would have to get a picture of it, so in the future, she could ask a plastic surgeon for one exactly the same.

“Rachael!” squeaked Mrs. Casson. Rachael turned around, a scowl plastered on her glossy mouth.

“WHAT??” she snapped, giving her best death stare.

But Mrs. Casson was immune to it. “I’m sending you to the office for an outfit check, pronto!” She pulled a small yellow pad and a black pen out of a pocket in her pea-green coat.

“Ugh. Whatever. I’ll just change into my lacrosse shorts,” Rachael dropped her books on her desk and ran upstairs.

***********************************************

Damn! thought Bob. Myles still wasn’t paying any attention to his death stare. How could he scare the crap out of him if he didn’t even look his way??

Bob turned his attention back to his laptop. Yes!!! He had now gained control of the school’s server!!! He decided that since he had all the power, he would watch a couple of people. He pulled up a list of names and clicked on a random one. Maggie Norton. Perfect-now he could see a reaction.

On her screen, there was an almost-finished Dickens essay. Bob highlighted the whole document, then hit delete. Then, he quickly saved.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo,” Maggie screamed, leaping up.

“What in the name of-” started Mrs. Casson

“My whole essay!! Just got DELETED!!!!” Maggie began to sob. “I was almost done!!!”

Greg walked through the door and, seeing Maggie crying, ran over and began patting her on the back. Instead of welcoming his care, Maggie smacked Greg across the face, and ran out of the room in tears.

Bob began laughing hysterically-funniest thing EVER!!

Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Oh, CRAP!

“Bob!!! Do you find this FUNNY????” bellowed Mrs. Casson, her eyes focusing in on him.

“Yeah, actually, I do!!” snickered Bob, shutting his laptop.

Mrs. Casson settled down. “Oh. Okay then. Just wondering.”

She immediately went back to working, and decided to give Greg a 3.27869 on his latest essay attempt.

After a few minutes, Myles lept up and sprinted towards the door. Grabbing the light switch, he viciously pushed it up and then down. The class groaned collectively and made their way over to the circle, except for Bob and Greg, who had been suspiciously listening to Maggie and Rachael’s conversation after Maggie had come back.

Mrs. Casson was already sitting at her seat in the front of the circle. Myles sat down in the center of the floor, and Will, Rachael, Maggie and Colby all rushed to get a seat next to him. After all, he WAS the coolest kid in the class.

Myles kicked the still-snoozing Allie with his new Puma sneakers, and she grunted and sat up. Mrs. Casson smiled her usual smile as she looked around the circle of insipid faces.

“Good morning, Allie!” Mrs. Casson threw the orange squishy ball lightly at Allie who caught it in one hand. Allie then tossed the ball to Ian, who tossed it to Rachael.

“RACHAEL, RACHAEL PASS IT HERE, PASS IT HERE!!!” called Colby and Will simultaneously. Rachael went to pass the ball to Will, but Colby smacked it to the ground, cackling the whole time.

“DAMMIT, Colby!!” screamed Will. Will dove at Colby, and the boys rolled head-first onto the ground, where they began wrestling.

“Boys, boys PLEASE!” called Mrs. Casson, although she was enjoying it very much. Rachael and Maggie ran over and pried the two boys apart, then skipped back to the floor when their job was done.

Bob had already made it to the circle, and was staring at Will, trying to telepathically tell him to GIVE HIM THE FREAKING BALL!

Unfortunately, Will wasn’t very good at reading minds, and so he called out to Greg.

“GREG!!! HERE!!! BALLLLL!!!!” yelled Will. Greg turned around just in time to catch the squishy ball.

“TOUCHDOWN!!” he shouted, and threw the ball at the ground. Maggie rolled her eyes, and Alexis, Miranda, and Anna collectively giggled.

“Bob!” called Greg as he passed the ball to Bob.

“WHAAAAA???” screeched Bob as the ball hit him in the face. He went to pick it up, fumbled it then got it between his fingers.

“Who still needs it??” asked Bob, looking around the room to see at least half of the class still raising their hands. Bob looked right at Myles, and attempted to bounce the ball to him. Unfortunately, the ball was NOT meant to bounce, and ended up two inches in front of Bob’s feet.

Myles crawled over to pick up the ball, and tossed it to Colby. When it had gotten to everyone, Maggie tossed it to Mrs. Casson, who spaztically leapt towards it, dropped it several times, the put it back in the box.

“Allllllrighty, kids! Who has a reflection to share with us this lovely morning??” Mrs. Casson asked, still smiling. About 8 hands went up, and Mrs. Casson looked excitedly around the circle.

“Hmmmmm………….. Rachael, why don’t you start?”

“Well………” Rachael began telling an elaborate, detailed story about the latest episode of Gossip Girl, and how horrified she was about who Chuck had hooked up with. Bob rolled his eyes-what a superficial girl. If he had gone first, he would be sharing about his latest visit to the Naval Academy in Wuster.

Mrs. Casson stopped Rachael halfway through her reflection. “Great reflection, Rachael!!! Who’s next??” Maggie, who was sitting next to Rachael, started her reflection on how cool her older brother Adam’s girlfriend was. Rachael took out her sillyputty, and started stretching and playing with it. Colby and Will hungrily asked for some, and she complied.

After several more boring and pointless reflections, it was Greg’s turn.

“Well let’s see. I’ll tell you guys about my day yesterday!” clapped Greg, a perky smile on his face. “So yesterday, I woke up at 6:45, which is a bit later than usual. My bus comes at 7:00, so I only had a little bit of time. After about 2 and a half minutes, I rolled out of bed. I didn’t really feel like showering, so I went to the sink. My hair needs to be washed every day, otherwise it gets all slimy. So, I put my head in the sink then rinsed it out. After that, I had to blow-dry my hair, so it didn’t get frizzy. By the time I was done, it was 6:55!! So, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a granola bar, then ran to the bus stop. The granola bar was gross-it was supposed to be cherry flavored, but it tasted more like cough medicine. Actually, I don’t really mind cough medicine that much. Anyways, after I got on the bus, I-”

“OH MY LORD GREG, WILL YOU HURRY IT UP?!!!!” snapped Rachael, who was getting extremely antsy.

The rest of the class all agreed, and started talking about how long and boring Greg’s reflections were.

“They never make any sense-I just don’t understand!”

“I don’t need to hear about everyone’s FULL day! I’m too busy!”

“Why does he think everyone WANTS to hear it??”

“I loved it. I love everything about Greg. I worship him.”

Then, Bob screamed, at the top of his lungs, “WILL EVERYBODY JUST SHUT THE FRIGG UP????!!!”

After that, the whole class quieted down, and Greg continued his reflection. “So anyways, I’m on the bus talking to Max Thurwell, who’s a really smart kid, but kinda on the dorky side, becuase he…….” Myles tried his hardest to tune Greg out. Just think about crows, he told himself, closing his eyes. He began to envision a large, beautiful majestic crow. Ahhhh that’s better he thought. The crow was darker than midnight, and the size of a shoebox. Its feathers shined as if they had just been polished, and its black beady eyes could bore a hole into Myles. What a perfect creature-its name would be Sir Nuzzinator.

“Thank you for that lovely reflection, Greg!” smiled Mrs. Casson when Greg had finished. “Bob, you’re next. Please share something riveting with the class.” Mrs. Casson shoved her round glasses farther up on her nose, and began twirling a piece of fiery-orange-red hair around her chewed-up pinky finger.

Bob tilted his chair forward, and place his hands near his inner thigh. He raised up his head and glared murderously at Myles, his sworn enemy. He then scratched his chest, his PYC shirt rumpling as he did so.

“Well, this weekend I visited my cousin Andy at the Naval academy again. It was awesome!” Bob grinned maniacally as he recalled the bleak gray buildings, the tight uniforms, the large guns, and the manly-looking women. “Definitely the best weekend ever! I even got to practice shooting several of the guns!”

As he said that, Colby recalled a recent article he had read yesterday about the “accidental” manslaughter of three men at a Naval Academy. Could it….??? Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, thought Colby. There’s no way Bob would be able to kill THAT many-this was only the first time he had used a gun.

“Did you SHOOT anybody??” gasped Maggie, attempting to stop biting her nails.

“None of your frigging BEESWAX!” snapped Bob, who tipped his chair forward even more. This, of course caused Rachael to burst out in a fit of giggles. Her loud, cackling laugh and momentary snorts could be heard from down the hall.

Ian looked at Rachael like she was crazy. What. A. FREAK! thought Ian, readjusting his collar to a perfect 45º angle. He admired his well-groomed nails affenctionately, then turned back to Jamie, who was busy cleaning his glasses.

Myles smacked Allie in the knee. HARD.

“Owwww,” moaned Allie, waking up from her nap. “What was THAT for?”

Myles smiled deviously. “You KNOW what that was for.” Allie glared at Myles and then fell back to sleep.

“Excuse me!” yelled Bob. “I’m still TALKING here!”

“Students! How rude of you to interrupt poor Bob.” Mrs. Casson patted her favorite student on the shoulder, telling him silently that it would be OK. After about 4 sorries were mumbled, Bob continued.

“So ANYWAY, after I got back from there, me and my dad went and launched our boat!” Bob started playing with the ruffled ends of his Hawaiian shirt. What was that?? Bob gasped. A STAIN??? Bob took his two fingers and started knawing on them, then using the spit to wipe up the stain. SOB!! Who would do that to his favorite shirt??!! Bob looked up to see 12 curious faces staring at him. “What?” he asked, confused as to why people were staring. It wasn’t like he was doing anything abnormal.

Rachael was starting to get bored. “Hey, Myles!” she whispered. He turned to look at him, and she started to tell him a hilarious story about Paul. “So anyways, isn’t he WEIRD??” asked Rachael, her green eyes wide.

“Ehmagawd, YES he is!!” added Greg, nodding furiously. He loved hearing what other people were talking about. It made him feel……….connected.

“GREG! Was I TALKING to you??” Rachael snapped. Greg would have thought she was seriously angry if she hadn’t been playing with the fringe on her shorts.

“Well no, but-”

“Honestly Greg, you’re like, more of a girl than ME!”

Colby and Will burst out into a quick fit of laughter, then calmed down.

Mrs. Casson looked up at the clock. “OK kids, time to go!”

******************************************************************

Rachael walked slowly into the room, fumbling for the lightswitch.

“BOO!!!” screamed Colby, Will, Allie, Myles, Maggie, Miranda and Greg, jumping out from behind the cabinet.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Rachael yelped, tripping over a desk.

Everyone laughed as they came over to help the klutzy girl off the ground.

“Thanks a TON, guys,” Rachael said, dusting herself off.

“No problem!” shouted Colby, punching Will in the arm.

“Ow! That hurt!” yelled Will, punching Colby back.

“Awww poor baby! Whatcha gonna do about it??” asked Colby, prancing all around Will.

“THIS!!” yelled Will, pushing Colby onto the ground. He then dove on top of him, ramming his nose into the floor.

“WILL!! GET OFF OF ME!!!!!!” yelled Colby, pushing him off. Then, when Colby stood up, the boys starting laughing, and everything was back to normal.

Suddenly, Mrs. Casson ran into the room, and fixed her beady eyes on Rachael and Will. “Rachael!” she snapped, her gaze getting more squinty. “What should you be doing now?!!”

Rachael opened her mouth in an OMG-I-CANT-BELIEVE-YOU-JUST-GOT-MAD-AT-ME-I’M-NOT-DOING-ANYTHING-WRONG look. She glared around the room to see Bob pounding on the wall with his heavy book, Allie stealing one of Mrs. Casson’s favorite books, and Greg and Colby doodling on the wall with pink crayons. Why was SHE the one getting in trouble??

“To the circle, students!” said Mrs. Casson, pointing her finger forward as if she were some famous explorer.

The kids all filed in to the circle slowly, except for Maggie and Rachael, who were busy texting boys on Rachael’s brand-new phone.

“OK, kids! Let’s have a totally random and pointless discussion on outcasts!” yelled Mrs. Casson, throwing a large piece of paper on the floor.

“YESSSS!!” yelled Colby and Will, smacking hands in a high-five.

Bob’s hand went immediately up in the air. “I’M AN OUTCAST!!” yelled Bob, a HUGE smile on his snackwell-crumbed lips.

Mrs. Casson smiled. “Exactly what we want to hear Bob! Some of you may be surprised to hear this, but I myself was an outcast when I was younger!”

Jamie gasped, a look of horror on his face, and Anna, Alexis, and Miranda all burst into a fit of giggles. Rachael rolled her eyes and inspected her new manicure, and Greg flipped his hair like those rock stars on TV. He had always wanted to be like those rock stars. They rocked out, partied hard, got the girls-but best of all, they could eavesdrop on anyone and not get in trouble for it!

Mrs. Casson cleared her throat, waking Greg up from his fantasy. “So, does anyone have anything to add??” When no hands were raised, Mrs. Casson pulled her handy-dandy notecard set out of her pea-green military jacket.

“CALL CARDS!!” She sang, grabbing the labeled note cards in her hand. She shuffled them around, then yanked one out.

“Ian!” she said, whipping her head to stare creepily at Ian.

“Oh, well let’s see. I believe that the culmination of the outcast on society is inexorable. They change how we act towards one another in a way that is most demoralizing. I also believe that-”

“BIG WORDS-THEY HUUUUUUUUUURT!!” whined Maggie, covering her ears. Ian looked up to see Rachael covering her ears too.

“Rachael! Let’s try not to be rude,” warned Mrs. Casson, shaking her finger disaproovingly.

“Bob!! Can I PLEEEEEEEEEASE have a snackwell??” begged Rachael, using her best puppy-dog eyes.

Instead of answering, Bob just put a snackwell half in his mouth, leaving the other half to stick out like a tongue. He left it like that for a little while, then finished it.

“Awww Bob, c’mon!! You ate the last one!” Maggie pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Tough luck, kid!” yelled Bob, chucking the balled-up wrapper at Myles. He put his hands back where they had been before-the fly of his blue jeans. He looked deviously around the room, and focused his eyes on Anna. What was SHE laughing at?? He wondered. When he took over the world someday he would be sure to annihilate her first. Right after Myles, of course.

Once all of the kids had shared their opinion, Mrs. Casson sent them back to their desk.

“Remember, this is time ONLY for silent ELA work!” she sang, walking over to her desk and opening her laptop.

The students all started working. Allie carefully opened her laptop with her one useful hand. The other seemed to have a different injury every week, and Allie wasn’t ure what was wrong with it this week. She logged into her wordpress account and continued her newest story. This one was sure to be good. It featured a brave and smart hero name Myles, and a super heroin as well. In it, the two would save their GT class from Bob-AGAIN! Allie dove deep into her story, and started typing as fast as she could.

“Oh, Will!” Mrs. Casson called. Is closing a science document REALLY silent ELA work?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Well, I was just closing it so that I-” began Will.

“Just as I thought!” Mrs. Casson walked over to where Will was sitting on the floor and pulled out his infraction card. “One more and it’s a detention,” she warned, writing something on it in angular handwriting. Rachael looked over to Mrs. Casson’s desk-and her suspicions were confirmed. Mrs. Casson was watching all of the students’ laptops AT THE SAME TIME on hers, like an eagle watches a mouse. Rachael wrinkled her nose in disgust-jeez, it seemed like they really WERE her pray.

“OK, students, time to go!” And everyone rushed out as soon as possible.

Finding Jinny

I’m running; running as fast as I can. I’m searching for something. Not just anything. Not a missing sock, not a tube of lip gloss, not even a missing laptop. I am searching for something deeper, and more important. I am searching for myself.
Ever since the accident, I have been talking to people. They all try to explain to me, tell me things about myself. But I can’t trust them. I don’t know if they’re right; I don’t even know who they are. So I am still searching.
People ask me what I remembered from the accident. I tell them I remember a really, REALLY bright light, and then blackness. But that is not the whole truth. I remember lot’s of things. I remember the soft, flowery perfume that my sister was wearing. I remember feeling like I was rolling in a field of roses, just smelling that perfume. I remember my mother’s soft, haunting voice sweetly singing the chorus of “Blowing in the wind.” I remember the heated seats, shooting little strings of fire up through my body. I remember feeling like I was sucking on a lemon, as I pushed the little sour candy throughout my mouth. I remember closing my eyes, trying to sleep. But then, suddenly, I was awakened by a blood-curdling scream. My eyes shot open. There was no music, no sweet perfume, no warmth, and no more sweet candy. All that was there was a bright, murderous light. I closed my eyes; the light was just too bright.
When I opened my eyes again, my whole body tensed up. I looked around, seeing large, sharp pieces of a broken car lying about. There was blood everywhere, and I could hear the loud, shrill sob of the ambulance. I saw something moving, so I tried standing up. But I was immediately knocked down by an invisible force. My head and the rest of my body was throbbing.
I heard people talking as they looked down at me pitifully and urgently.
“What’s wrong with her?” “Why isn’t she moving?” “Is she dead?” And then I hear a new one. “Oh my GOD!! Look at her head!! It’s practically in pieces!!!” Suddenly they were on me, lifting me up, putting me on a stretcher and holding my hand. The very last thing I remember was when I was in an ambulance and I heard a young woman say, “It’s all right, sweetie. You’re going to be just fine. I promise.”
Unfortunately, these words are not true. Besides that one fateful day, I do not remember anything of my past. I don’t know what I like to do for fun, who my friends are, my personality, my opinions. I don’t know who I am. And I do not know what my identity is. That is what I am trying to find.
I pass an old woman who is trying her hardest to keep up with her small, Yorkshire terrier.
“Good afternoon, Jinny,” says the old woman, smiling warmly. I look around, trying to figure out if she is really talking to me. When I see we are alone, I know she is.
“How are you doing? I heard about your accident…..” asks the woman as she looks down, obviously ashamed of her large amount of curiosity.
“I-I-I’m sorry,” I say, looking down. “I can’t really remember much; who are you again?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. My name is Miranda. I’m your grandmother’s best friend,” says the old lady sweetly, smiling at me. I must have looked skeptical, because she added, “You’re grandmother, Nana, and I play bingo on Saturdays. You come and play sometimes.”
“I’m sorry. You must be thinking of the wrong person. I don’t have a grandmother.” I say, digging the toe of my shoe into the cold, hard earth.
The woman-Miranda-looks confused. “No, no, you have a grandmother. You call her Nana, and she comes to all of your field hockey games.” I look up slowly, thinking that what she said may be very helpful.
“Oh, um, okay! Thanks a bunch,” I call back to her as I begin to run away. I shake my head, wondering how I could have thought that that would help me.
I continue to run, when I stop again to think. I walk slowly along the path, kicking rocks as I wonder what that woman is thinking right now.
***************************************************
“Poor girl,” muttered Miranda Cornell, shaking her head as she walked away from the hapless girl who had been talking to her. “Don’t know how she can stand it, losing all her memories like that.” Miranda sighed as she continued to walk. She had so many memories of Jinny. Jinny had always been a lively girl, always chattering and laughing until she cried. Her eyes had shined brighter than the sun, and her long, silky brown hair was always flowing around her as if it were big cloak, protecting her from all of the sinful things in the world. She had always been a bit on the chubby side, but her sparkling eyes and dazzling smile completely made up for the extra flesh on her body. But the girl who Miranda had just seen was the exact antonym of the little girl that she had loved. This girl didn’t look at you; she looked right through her, her gray eyes as dull as if they had nothing to see. You could see her bones from beneath her shirt, a shirt whose color matched her dull eyes perfectly. Her hair was now a dark brown, dull as a tree trunk. It was short and choppy, as if she had cut it herself. This girl that Miranda had just seen was certainly not the one she had known all of her life.
Miranda stared down at the little dog, who was prancing around. The dog made her smile, as she danced around, without a care in the world. As she watched her dog dance, a memory of Jinny popped into her head.
*****************************************************
The little girl is dancing, dancing all around the room, singing at the top of her lungs.
“Come, Ooooooooh COME!!! Come to the RI-VER!!!!!!!” Jinny sings, her long brown hair flowing behind her as she twirls. Her bronze skin glows like a light-bulb. “Mir-an-DA!” She giggles, dragging my name out until the last syllable.
“What, honey?” I say as I tuck a strand of her chocolaty hair behind her ear. “What is it?”
“How does the rest of the song go?” Her green eyes sparkle as they widen. I begin to sing the song, and once I get to the chorus, she joins in, her soft, sweet voice too sophisticated for her age. Once we finish the song, I clap my wrinkled hands as she takes a bow.
“Jinny, are you torturing Nana’s friend again?” I turn to see Jinny’s mother, an exact replica of the little girl I am playing with.
“Why no, not at all, sweetheart. Your adorable little daughter is keeping me from passing out!” I smile at the young woman, who smiles back.
“Miranda is playing with me! She’s fun!” The little girl smiles, and her eyes smile along with her.
“Thank, you,” says Jinny’s mother. Her eyes shine as they agree with what she says. “Jinny, baby, go upstairs and get changed. We’re gonna go out for dinner.”
“YAY!!!” squeals the little girl, as she skips up the stairs.
“Well, Lacey. Your little girl is…….. beautiful!” Beautiful is the only word I can think of to fit the little girl that I admire. “I only wish that some of her charm would rub off on me!”
“She is quite a girl,” agrees Lacey, nodding slowly. “Hey, how would YOU like to take her to dinner? I could stay home and get some work done, and you could get to know her. I mean, you two don’t really know each other too well.”
“No, believe me, I know SO much about her!” I disagree. “She’s beautiful. She is the liveliest little girl I have ever seen. She loves living SO MUCH! I don’t think I know anyone who cherishes their life as much as she does. I admire her.” I come into a large coughing fit, and Lacey gets me a glass of water. After several sips, I put the glass back down. “I feel as if I’ve known her my whole life. I don’t need to take her to dinner by myself. I don’t need that. She, however, needs you.”
“Someday,” sighs Jinny’s mother, as she gets Jinny’s coat, “She won’t need me.”
**********************************************************
I begin to run again. I stop when I finally get back to my neighborhood. I know it is mine because of the huge sign hanging on the stone wall: “Welcome home, Jinny!”
At first I appreciated the sign; but now it just makes me sick. I don’t want to look at it, for it reminds me of the death of my loving mother and sister. And the day I lost myself.
I lean over the bushes, ready to throw up. But nothing happens. I just stand there, little beads of sweat dancing down my forehead like a band of unorganized ballet dancers. But I just can’t throw up. You know that feeling?? Where you feel like your stomach is about to flip violently, as it squeezes and lurches around. But it really isn’t. It’s just a feeling, a feeling that tells you that you aren’t OK. And I am not OK.
When I get back to my house-I can tell because of the large sign plastered across the fence- I run inside and right to the kitchen. When I get to the kitchen, I take a cup out of the cupboard and fill it to the brim from a cooler of water.
I take a drink, and feel little droplets of water sliding down my throat, as if they are on a slip-n-slide. They cool my throat, making me feel cold and wet. When I am done, I put the empty glass into the sink and head into the living room. I sit down on the grass-green couch and think. I have been doing that a lot lately; thinking, I mean. It’s hard to explain exactly what I think about. I think about my mom, and about what she looked like. I make up little stories about my past, pretending that it’s my childhood I’m thinking about, not the childhood of some successful movie star. I think about so much, yet I learn so little. It’s like they are false thoughts, thoughts that don’t mean a thing. They don’t. These thoughts mean nothing; nothing at all to me. They make no sense; but yet, they seem to make sense to think about.
It is as I’m thinking about this that I drift off into a deep, peaceful sleep. `
*************************************************
Mr. Costello was too busy chopping carrots to hear the soft, aggrieved whimpers of his daughter. Or, at least, that’s what he told himself. Mr. Costello had never really been the kind of father that would kiss his daughter’s boo-boo and then give her a Dora the Explorer band-aid. He did not know how to comfort her when she needed it. And, after her mother had died, he felt as if there was nothing he could do to help her. He sighed, dropping the sharp knife onto the helpless table, and rubbed his forehead with his scarlet hands. He didn’t know what he could do to help his daughter. Should he wake her? Talk to her? Make her laugh?? What is the best thing to do when someone you loved was lost, but someone else you loved was more affected by it?
It was as he was thinking this that Mr. Costello heard the faint voice of his daughter. As he panicked that he had woken her, he heard her snort, and realized that she was still asleep. He tiptoed over to where she was sleeping, and stroked her soft, short hair. It used to be more beautiful, Arnold thought as he closed his eyes.
“No, mom. It wasn’t your fault. It was my fault. I was distracting you.” Jinny’s voice drifted through the air like the scent of freshly baked cookies. She was mesmerizing to listen to, and Arnold couldn’t help but sit down.
“I know mom. I love you too,” Jinny muffled a cry, her delicate eyes squeezing harder shut. “I-I don’t remember…. I don’t remember what you look like. I’m sorry. That blanket is covering your head. I can’t see a thing. Maybe I could just…. take it off?”
Suddenly, Jinny began to struggle. “No!!! Get off of me!!! Please, Mommy, get this doctor off of me. What?? NO!! She’s NOT!! She’s alive!! She-she’s not-dead. She can’t die. I-I need her.” A single tear fled her eye, and dripped down onto her nose. It was then that Arnold realized that he was crying, too. He wiped a tear from his eye, and continued to listen to Jinny.
“No, sir, you don’t understand. She’s alive. I just don’t remember what she looks like-I need to see her. Please, Mom. Tell him. You’re not dead. You can’t be dead. I have so many questions!” As Jinny began to sob, Mr. Costello got up and went back over to the sink.
It was so horrible to listen to his beautiful little daughter in so much pain. It was like watching someone you loved slowly being murdered. It was such a painful thing to go through, and Arnold couldn’t stand it.
He wanted some way to help Jinny. Some way to heal her. Some way to make her remember. That was when Arnold had the best idea of his life.
************************************************

“Jinny! Jinny, wake up!” I hear someone whispering loudly, as I am awoken from my sleep.
“Who are you?!!” I cry as I wake up. Where am I??
“It’s Dad. You’re sleeping on your couch, at your home.”
“My head hurts,” I mumble. “Make it better.” I know I sound like a child, but I am so confused right now.
“Of course,” says the man-my dad-smiling. “Head upstairs, and I’ll meet you there with some aspirin.”
“OK,” I nod, and get up off the couch. I make my way over to the stairs, then slowly make my climb to the TV room.
When I get there, I sit down on the sofa, and put my head back on the feathery soft pillows. But as I am lowering my head, I notice a large, black book sitting at the table. I reach over to it, and try to pick it up.
The book is heavy; I feel like I’m trying to lift up a heavy desk, rather than a big book.
I use both hands to pick it up, and drop it on my lap. The pain shoots up my thigh and into my chest. God, it hurts.
I use my limp hands to turn the first page. When I see what is on the page, everything comes back to me. The memories come flooding back to me all at once. The book is a scrapbook; a picture book narrating my short life.
On the first page is baby pictures. There is a picture of a tall, beautiful brunette, her smile touching her ears. She looks very round, because of the big ball that is formed at her stomach. It’s my mother. A picture of my mother when she was pregnant with me. Next to the picture is a caption reading, “Why didn’t Jinny turn out as fat as she looked?”
The next picture is a picture of a tiny, blond baby, with fingers as tiny as fork prongs, and eyes as bright as the sun. The baby is me. I am holding a small rattle in my hands, and my eyes are smiling along with my tiny baby mouth.
As I look through the pictures, I remember EVERYTHING! I remember my first birthday party, and how the cake tasted like dog food. I remember my first day of preschool, when I was the only one to leave my mother to go play with the stuffed animals. I remember the day my Grandfather died; I remember the day I met my best friend; the day I got my first ‘A’ on a math test; the day where my mother nearly bought out the whole Gap store taking me shopping; the day I went on a field trip to Lake Michigan; even the day in first grade when I kissed Michael Wedging. I remember everything as if it had happened the day before, all thanks to the pictures.
I suddenly snap back to reality when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Jinny? Do you like it?” asks my father, concerned.
I suddenly realize I am crying. The tears flood out of my eyes as quickly as the memories flooded into my head.
“Oh, Daddy!” I cry as I throw my arms around him. “I remember! I remember it all!”
I smile proudly as my dad hugs me back.
Thank GOD I’ve finally found myself.
Thank God I’ve finally found my identity.

A Sad Story

PROLOGUE
Matt’s eyes flew open in horror. He was suddenly surrounded by a deathly black world. Of course, his world was always black, but this was not just any black. This was the kind of blackness that reeked of pain and tasted of blood; the kind of black you always see in horror movies. Or, in Matt’s case, SAW in horror movies.
Ever since Matt was two, his father would come home from “work,” angry and drunk. Matt’s father wanted to take his pain, and force someone else to feel it. And that someone else was Matt. Then, one day, on Matt’s 7th birthday, his father came home from the bar angrier than usual. Matt sat in the corner of the small, square room as he heard his father slam the door off its hinges, screaming his son’s name. Matt knew what was to come. He quietly ran up the stairs, and dove under the bed. Matt’s father slammed up the stairs, ready to do even worse to Matt. He slammed Matt’s door open, then furiously picked up the small, wooden desk, throwing it at the bed. The desk sunk defeatedly into the bed, squishing poor Matt. Matt suddenly realized that his dad was going easy on the desk; Matt would have it much worse.
“I know you’re in here!!” screamed Matt’s dad crazily, speach slurring. Matt began to shiver, but not because of the coldness in the room. 
Suddenly Matt felt a rough, wet hand crushing his ankle. Matt tried to grab the bed’s legs as his muscular father dragged him out by one leg. He felt his ankle twist unnaturally, and he yelped in pain. His father yanked him out, then threw him against the wall, breaking an empty bottle against his back. Matt cried as his head began to bleed. His father took his only book, a hardcover, and banged it against Matt’s head, causing more blood to spill. Matt screamed, for the pain was unbearable. His father whirled him around, and took a second empty beer bottle from his bag. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion, as the beer bottle moved toward his eyes. Then, everything sped up, as the bottle hit his eyes, glass flying into them. And, as the pain continued, Matt’s whole world went black.
Matt rolled over, trying to forget the terrible nightmare that was his past. He was shivering, even though it was the middle of summer. His body all of a sudden went completely numb. He was reacting; reacting to the pain he had felt ten years ago to that day. If he was numb, he couldn’t feel pain. Matt suddenly wished that his body had known that ten years ago.
A feeling of drowsiness quickly took over Matt. He pressed a button on his digital watch.
“It is two a.m., Sunday the 13th,” rasped the watch in an annoying monotone. Matt yawned, then rolled over once more.
It would be better later in the morning, he decided. It always was.
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“Happy birthday, sleepy-head!!!!!!!!!” schreeched Miranda in her still high-pitched voice. Matt opened his eyes and began to blink.
Some good that’ll do, I thought. I quickly shook that ugly thought out of my mind. It was a happy day. It was a good day for all of us.
“Miranda?” Matt smiled. Ever since we had adopted him, he had gotten really good at memorizing voices.
“Yup, yup YUP,” giggled Miranda, bouncing more furiously. She then yanked a badly wrapped package out of her purple plastic purse. She quickly thrust it at Matt, screaming “Here you go!!!!”
“Is it a gift?” asked Matt, grabbing the package and attempting to find a place to open it.
“I’ll do it!!!!” cried Miranda, snatching away the package and tearing it open. “It’s a pair of pink socks!!!” Miranda screamed, very happy with herself. “I buyed them with my own monies!!!” Miranda smiled, and began to bounce up and down.
Matt’s face broke into an even bigger smile.
“Thanks, Shortie! They’re great! And they’re really soft!” This made Miranda absolutely crazy!!!!
“I KNEW he would love them!!!!” she shrieked “I knew it, I knew it I KNEW it!!!”
“Miranda, calm down!” whispered Mrs. Brookes furiously. Miranda quieted down, and moved back so the rest of us could give him our presents. I went last, as I was one of the oldest.
“Here you go, baby bro!” I joked as I ruffled his hair and handed him his present.
“Thanks SHRIMP, but I’m your age now!” Matt said proudly as he shook the package, trying to guess what was inside.
I blushed as I remembered the embarassing nickname that our older foster brother Nick had given me. I was born with two club feet and had to have my legs amputated. Unfortunately, my parents couldn’t pay for the surgery and prosthetic legs, so they just left me at a store one day. But ever since Mrs. Brookes took me in, I have been perfectly happy, even if I am in a wheelchair. The fact that I only have two half-legs got me the nickname Shrimp.
Suddenly I realized that time hadn’t stopped just for me to look back, as Matt was in the midst of ripping open the package I had handed to him.
“An iPod!!!!!!!!!!” Matt gasped as he read the braille on the specially-made box. “How-how did you afford it??”
I shrugged, then remembered that Matt couldn’t see it. “I just saved up all of my job money.” When I saw Matt look down guiltily, I added, “I couldn’t figure out what to buy for myself, so I just made the decision easy and bought you something.” Matt looked a little less guilty as he opened the box, and felt the smooth, cold square that could hold more songs than I could name. He held it up for all of us to look at and tell him what it looked like.
“Yuck. It’s BLACK!!” grumbled Miranda. “Why couldn’t you have getted him a pretty color, like pink?”
“Miranda!” gasped Mrs. Brookes, a little angry that Miranda was being so rude. “Don’t talk like that to your older sister. And it’s gotten, not ‘getted.’” Miranda hung her head and calmed down.
“Thanks, again Tasha!” smiled Matt. “Now I don’t have to lug around that huge CD player!” We all cleared away from the bed as Matt began to get up. With the help from his bedside cane, he made his way over to the door, then out. I wheeled myself out after him, to see what he was going to do next. As he made his way out to the computer, I called out to him.
“Hey! Want some help downloading some songs?” Matt turned and smiled.
“Sure!! Thanks, sis!”
“No problem!” I said as I wheeled myself over. “Anything for my little bro!”

A few hours later, a bunch of us were sitting out on the porch, sipping lemonade and talking. At the moment, Isabel and I were talking about which boys in our school were the hottest.
“DEFINITELY Ryan Kingsley,” wooed Isabel, who was practically my other half.
“Absolutely,” I nodded as I sipped my lemonade. “But what about that cute guy who asked you out?” Isabel blushed as I reminded her of Craig, the shy, tall basketball player who had asked her out several times.
“Oh, I am SO over him,” sighed Isabel as she flipped back her curly brown hair. “Older men are SO much better.” I laughed at Isabel’s relaxed tone.
“What about you, Kel?” I asked as I turned toward my 9-year-old sister Kelly. “Whatever happened to that 5th grader who asked you out?”
“Oh, I’m WAY too sexy for him,” sighed Kelly as she attempted to imitate Isabel’s hair flip. That all set us into an intense fit of laughter.
But then, suddenly everyone got quiet. I stopped laughing as I realized that everyone else had stopped, too. Then I turned my head to where everyone else was looking and gasped.
We all watched in horror as Matt walked right into the two men carrying a coffin.
I screamed inside my head as Matt was knocked over onto the ground, and as the coffin fell on top of him.
“Oh, I’m very sorry, young man!” boomed the taller and burlier of the two men.
Matt leapt up and shook his head, not believing what he had heard.
“Da-da-DAD??!!” Matt cried, reaching out his hand.
“Matt??!!!!” gasped the man in utter disbelief. “Is it really you?” As Matt nodded his head, the big man teared up, and grabbed Matt intoa full, strong, bear-hug.
“Matty, I’ve missed you so much!” cried the man as his eyes welled up.
“Me too, dad. Me too.” Matt squeezed the man hard, as if the tighter he squeezed, the longer they would be together.
“Wow Matt,” laughed the man as he let his son go. “How’d you get so STRONG?”
Matt beamed, as this was the best compliment to get from a man as strong and buff as his dad was.
“I lift weights and stuff every day, dad,” bragged Matt proudly.
“That’s my boy!” laughed Matt’s dad as he playfully ruffled hi only son’s hair. Matt smiled, and then sighed.
“We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, dad.” The large man smiled, then nodded in agreement.
“We sure do Matt. We sure do.” Then Matt led his dad up onto the back side of the porch. A few minutes later his dad came back for the large, cool jug of lemonade and a few extra plastic cups. Once I was sure he was completely around the corner, I spoke.
“Is that his REAL dad? The man who……….” my voice trailed off, for I didn’t want to utter those horrible words.
“I-I think so,” whispered Isabel, trying to peek around the corner.
“What’d he do?” I whirled around in my chair, and found that my suspiscions were correct; the shrill, squeaky voice was coming from Miranda.
“Ummmmmm…… well, he…… he…..” I didn’t know quite what to say, so I sat her down and said, “Miranda, you know how when you’re mad, you hit me? Even if you’re not mad at ME?”
Miranda nodded. “Yeah, and I usually getted in trouble for it.”
“Right,” I nodded. “Well, Matt’s daddy did the same thing, only he never got in trouble.
Miranda’s eyes grew wide. “But Matt’s daddy is a big boy. Wouldn’t that have hurted him a lot?”
“Yeah, it did,” I replied, shaking my head sadly. “And now Matty’s blind because his daddy hit him so hard.”
All of a sudden, Miranda burst into tears. “Poor Matty!!! If his daddy’s back, will he hurt him again?”
“I-I don’t know,” I sighed. “I just don’t know.

I was sitting near the kitchen sink, washing dishes, as I heard the door shut behind me. I turned around to see Matt, a huge grin on his face, standing in the door.
“Hey,” I called, and Matt’s smile grew larger as he heard my voice.
“Hey,” he called back as his three legs made their way over. My smile disappeared as I stared at his brand-new shiny cane.
“Wh’at up with the cane?” I wondered aloud as I felt the warm, rough leather.
“Isn’t it great?” beamed Matt as he ran his hand over the cane. “My dad had it in his car, and when he saw my boring, old cane, he gave it to me.”
That made me shiver, as I again thought aloud.
“Matt, don’t you think it’s kind of…. I dunno…. ODD that your dad just HAPPENS to show up at the shelter where you are, then just HAPPENS to bump into you, and just HAPPENS to have a cane in the back of his car, all on the day of your birthday that he ‘forgot?’”
Matt frowned, and shook his head. “Nah. Although my dad was once a bad guy,” he said, pointing to the scars on his eyes as if to prove his statement. “He wouldn’t lie to me. Not now.”
“Matt, how do you KNOW?” I asked, still unsure.
“Most of our catching up was him telling me all about rehab and therapy, Tasha. Chill!!” Matt sighed.
“I know, Matty. Just-just watch out, and be careful of him,” I begged worriedly.
********************************************************************************
“Great dinner, Carmen!” boomed Matt’s father, Jack.
“Why thank you, Mr. Reynolds,” said Mrs. Brookes proudly. “I’ve never heard anything like that from any of the kids.”
“Oh please, call me Jack,” said Mr. Reynolds. “And I’m very surprised; I thought that I had taught my boy some manners.” Mr. Reynolds looked at Matt angrily. I flinched, expecting Mr. Reynolds to beat Matt. Instead, he just smiled.
“Just joking. I was never really much of a manner’s man.” He laughed, and Matt joined him.
“So, MR. REYNOLDS,” I said. “How was the rehabilitation center? Where there lots of crazed men there?”
“Natasha!!” Mrs. Brookes yelped, obviously embarassed.
“Oh, it’s all right, Carmen. The child was only being curious,” said Jack, shrugging. “Well, young lady, we were all there for the same reason; to change. And that’s just what I did, isn’t it, Matty?” asked Jack, ruffling his son’s hair with his meaty hands.

“Sure is, Dad.” Matt smiled as he hungrily attacked his third helping of meatloaf.
It was quiet as we all chewed thoughtfully. Then, finally, Miranda spoke.
“Mr. Matt’s daddy, why did you maked Matty blind?”
We all gasped, wondering what would come next. Would Matt’s dad attack? Would Mrs. Brookes be angry? Would Matt be angry? What would happen?
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, someone finally spoke.
“I-I honestly don’t know,” sighed Matt’s dad as he looked at his hands, which were resting like the hands of the perfect student. But they didn’t. They belonged to the hands of a criminal. “I just-I guess I just wasn’t thinking.” A single tear, fat as his pinky finger, danced down Mr. Reynolds’ cheek and onto his empty plate. As I looked at Mr. Reynolds, I began to feel sorry for him. He had made a big mistake, but he had payed for it. And he was genuinely sorry. He loved Matt, and Matt loved him. So why was I being so mean to him?
“Miranda, lets go to your room and play Barbies, OK?” I asked, trying to break the akward silence that had formed. I looked over to see Mr. Reynolds wiping his eyes, and smiling at Matt. I had saved him from embarrassment, and I had saved myself from being an even worse person than I already was.
“YEAH!!!” screamed Miranda, as she jumped up from the table. “I call Princess Phoebe, Maddie, Sarah, Meaghan, Kasey the Vet……” I tuned out as Miranda called out all of the Barbies that I wasn’t allowed to play with. I had to think of some way to prove to Mr. Reynolds-and, Matt, for that matter-that I trusted him.
“……and Edna The Destroyer Of All Things Good. You can have all the other ones.”
“OK, thanks,” I said as I wheeled my way over to the sink to put my plate down. “Mrs. B, I’ll do the dishes later.”
Mrs. Brookes looked extremely grateful.
“Oh, of course, of course. Thank you, sweetie.”
I wheeled myself into Miranda’s room, watching as the small girl with long, silky black hair bounced in front of me. How wonderful it would be to walk again. I loathed the people who took walking for granted. How could they not appreciate being able to kick a soccer ball? How could they not appreciate being able to just run up the stairs when they forgot something? Not enough people appreciate being able to walk. I just don’t understand.
“Hel-ooooo??” Miranda sang, waving her hand in front of my face. I snapped back to reality and rolled over to Miranda’s bed. Pushing myself out of my chair, I put my butt on Miranda’s bed, and scooted back. I was on.
Picking up the Barbie with the white-blond hair, I picked up a tiny pink brush and started to brush her hair.
“NOOOOOOO, Tasha, that one’s mine!!!” cried Miranda.
“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled, dropping the Barbie as quickly as if she were on fire. Which, I wished she was.
“In this pile are mine, and the pile behind you are the ones you can play with,” Miranda stated matter-of-factly. I stared at the pile sitting in front of her. There were probably about 10 Barbies in that pile. I turned my body to see the pile behind me. In the “pile” lay a single Barbie. The Barbie’s legs were mangled in an impossible position behind her. Her pink pants had a large spagetti stain on them, and she had no top on. Her hair was more tangled than our bushes, and their were little pieces of gum in it.
I stared at the Barbie as I picked her up. Taking the hairbrush from the bright pink bedspread, I began to brush the Barbie’s hair, taking out little pieces of gum as I went along.
Miranda started chatting nonchalantly to me as we cared for our Barbies. After a while, my Barbie’s hair was as straight and soft as silk. I wiped the marker from her forehead, un-twised her legs, and then looked at her.
“Wow!” said Miranda, stopping what she was saying about peanuts to stare at the Barbie I had just fixed up. “She looks pretty!”
“Thanks,” I said as I set her down. I pushed myself off the bed and into my wheelchair, and put my hands on my wheels. “I’m just gonna go get something in my room.”
I wheeled to the room that I shared with Isabelle and Stacey, and pulled up the sheet that covered the bottom of my bed. There it was.
I picked it up, placed it on my lap, then wheeled back into Miranda’s room.
After I was back on Miranda’s bed, I opened the box and dumped the contents of it onto the bed. Miranda gasped when she saw what now lay on her bed.
“I used to use these clothes to dress my Barbies ALL the time,” I said. “Now, they’re yours.”
Miranda stared up at me, her tiny little mouth in a perfect O. “Really? Really, Tasha?” When I nodded to her, she threw her skinny little arms around me. “Oh, thank you Tasha! You’re the best!”
She immediately grabbed a handful of the clothes, ripping the old clothes off of her Barbies. I picked up the one I had been using before and pulled off her pink pants. I took out a sparkley, blue dress and slipped it over the Barbie’s head, turning her over so I could close the little velcro strap that held the dress together. When I saw how beautiful the Barbie had turned out, and how much she had changed, I smiled. The way that the Barbie had changed gave me hope that my life could somehow get better.

“Randy, don’t get too close to the flames-you’ll burn yourself!” I called out as Miranda pranced around the fire, donning a purple ribbon on a stick.
“But this is what all the fairy princesses do before their voodoo ceremonies! They dance around fires with ribbons, and then they all sit around the fire and chant! Don’t you know that????” Miranda continued dancing, paying no attention to what I had just said.
We all laughed, and Miranda just stared angrily.
“Don’t laugh at me!” cried Miranda. “Or you’ll be my first subject of voodoo!” That made us laugh even harder.
Putting aside my iPod, I wheeled over to Miranda and scooped her up into my lap. I closed my eyes as I felt her little head bury itself into my shoulder. Her heat radiated off of her and warmed me even more.
Little kids can always make you feel like you’re at home. Their warmth, the way they talk to you, just the way they look at you-nothing can describe how good they can make you feel on the inside.
“Tasha?” Miranda whispered in my ear. I could feel her breath tickling my ear like a soft, delicate flower.
“Yeah, Randy?”
“Do you think that my real mommy will ever love me?” Miranda asked. I looked down to see cold, pearly tears falling from her amber eyes. She looked up to me like one would look up to their favorite movie star, or their older sister-even their mother.
“Randy, I don’t see how anyone COULDN’T love you! I just know that right now, your mommy loves you so much that she wishes you were with her.” I said, playing with bits of her shiny hair in my fingers.
“You really think so?” She asked as she wiped a tear from her eye.
“Yeah. I really do,” I said as I tucked a strand of hair behind her tiny ear.

Note

Just so you know, this next story is a little graphic. So, if you are scared easily, or don’t want to be just a little sad, I advise you not to read this next story.
Thanks!!!

The Best Christmas Present

Ginny stared out the window as the tiny snowflakes made their descent to the already snow-covered ground. The snowflakes made Ginny feel bad. The whole world was a beautiful, clean white, and she was dirtying it with her angriness. She had been naughty all year. But, technically, it wasn’t her fault. Ever since her father had left, Ginny’s colorful world turned into an ugly gray, and she had been living in that gray for some time. She didn’t try in school anymore; she deliberately started fights with her sister Kenzie; and worst of all, she had ignored people begging for her help. She was horrible, an she knew it. But she didn’t care. She missed her dad too much to care.
“Ginny!” called Mrs. DeFranco, Ginny’s mom. “I’m home! Come downstairs!”
Ginny rolled off her comfy little reading nook and bounded down the stairs.
“Ginny, you haven’t been outside all vacation. Go out and play with Kenzie.”
Ginny shook her head, crossing her arms.
“Well, then, you’re coming to the soup kitchen with me. Maybe then you’ll do something good.”
************************************************************************************************************
The soup kitchen wasn’t as bad as Ginny had thought. The people there were very kind, and they had been very appreciative of their dinner and dessert. In fact, Ginny had even made some friends. Michelle and Katie were twins with an abusive father who had left their family to fend for themselves over seven years ago. Michelle and Katie had been living in a homeless shelter with their mom and three brothers since they were four-and-a-half years old. It really made Ginny appreciate what she had.
After the soup kitchen, Ginny and her mom had gone to an animal shelter. Ginny had wanted to stay in the car. But her mom wouldn’t have it.
The second Ginny stepped into the shelter, her heart swelled as if it had been pounded painfully with a hammer. There were these adorable cats and dogs EVERYWHERE. They all had looks on their faces that seemed to say, “Please, please PLEASE,take me home with you!” Immediately, Ginny wanted to take home every single animal she saw. There were fluffy balls of calico playing in the corner of a tiny cage; in another room, there were two rabbits nibbling graciously on a piece of lettuce; and in another room was a giant St. Bernard, lying on the floor of a dirty cage, which was about the size of six desks put together. This shelter was poor! Ginny realized that if something wasn’t done, all of the animals in the shelter could die. As Ginny ran to the front desk, something caught her eye. She whirled around to see a beautiful, white cat staring up at her with foggy, blue eyes.
Ginny jumped when she heard a voice. “That’s Miracle,” rasped an old woman standing behind her. “Her owner abused her. He even bashed her eyes blind.” Ginny turned away as the woman pulled back some fur around the cat’s eye to reveal a horrid, red scar. But it was too late. She had already seen it. “We call her Miracle because she would’ve died if we hadn’t found her on the streets last Christmas.”
“Her owner threw her out on Christmas?” asked Ginny, horrified. The woman nodded sadly. “Some people just don’t understand the beauty of an animal.”
The woman opened up the cage and picked Miracle up. “Would you like to hold her?” asked the woman, stroking Miracle’s soft fur. Ginny nodded, and the woman handed her over. Miracle was beautiful. Her fur was whiter than snow, and softer than a fleece blanket. She purred softly, and Ginny could feel her heart beating against her chest. Miracle looked up at Ginny, and licked the tip of her nose. Her tongue was rough as sandpaper, but there was still a gentle touch to it that made Ginny feel right at home with the beautiful cat. She wanted Miracle. She wanted Miracle BADLY. Almost as badly as she wanted her dad to come home. In fact, she NEEDED Miracle, just as much as Miracle needed her.
“You two were meant for each other,” cooed the old woman, breaking the beautiful moment between the two new friends. It was then that Ginny realized she was crying. The cat’s fur was wet with Ginny’s tears. But, instead of pulling away, Miracle just snuggled Ginny closer. Ginny just HAD to get Miracle.
“Ginny? Sweetie, are you Okay?” asked Ginny’s mom, stroking her daughter’s beautiful auburn hair.
Ginny lifted up her head and nodded.
“They’re the perfect pair, these two. They belong together,” said the old woman, smiling brightly.
“Thank you very much,” said Ginny’s mother warmly as she placed Miracle back into her cage. “Sweetie, why don’t you meet me out in the car? I’ll just finish up this donation I’m making, and I’ll be right, O.K?”
Ginny nodded, blew Miracle one last kiss, and ran out to the car.
************************************************************************************************************
“Ginny, come help me put cookies out for Santa!!!!!” screeched Kenzie excitedly. Ginny slowly got out of her little window nook and bounded down the stairs. Kenzie was carefully laying out cookies on a shiny, green, plastic platter. Next to it was the tallest glass of milk Ginny had ever seen, a large bucket filled with water, and a bowl of large, peeled carrots. “For the reindeer,” explained Kenzie proudly when she saw Ginny eyeing the carrots and water.
Once the girls were done laying out the cookies, they got into their pajamas and stared proudly at the scene.
The tree was beautifully decorated, covered in tinsel, bright lights, and beautiful, hand-made ornaments. An angel sat mightily on top of the tree, surveying the room.
The table had a magnificent, crocheted table cloth on it. And sitting on the table-cloth was the plate of cookies the girls had made, the large glass of milk, the bucket of water and the carrots.
Stockings hung off the fireplace, begging to be filled. The fire had been put out with a special guest in mind.
There’s just one thing missing,thought Ginny sadly as she walked tiredly up the stairs.
A few moments later, Ginny’s mother came upstairs to say good-night.
“I love you, Ginny,” said Mrs. DeFranco lovingly, kissing Ginny on the forehead. “I’ll always love you, no matter what.”
And with that, Ginny fell into a deep, deep sleep.
************************************************************************************************************
“Ginny, wake up, wake up!!! Santa came, Santa came!!” cried Kenzie jumping up and down on top of Ginny.
Ginny rolled out of bed and onto the floor.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” giggled Kenzie, running off to her room to get her favorite blanket.
Ginny pulled on her bathrobe an skipped down the stairs.
And, upon getting downstairs, Ginny let out a little gasp. For there, standing next to the tree, was Ginny’s-
“DADDY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” screamed Ginny, running towards the tall, brown-haired man standing next to the masterpiece tree. Her father put down the package he was holding and spread his arms out wide as Ginny leapt into them.
“I missed you so much, kiddo,” cried her father, squeezing her tightly.
“I missed you, too, Daddy,” whispered Ginny with tears in her eyes.
After a few minutes of long-awaited hugging, Ginny’s father finally let her go.
“I brought a present for you, kiddo,” stated Mr. DeFranco, pointing to the punctured package by his feet.
Ginny bent over tentavely, and pulled the top off the bright red box. When she looked inside, Ginny gasped again.
“Miracle!!!!!!” she cried, picking up the little snowball of a cat. “How did you know?”
Her father smiled. “Your mother called me yesterday and asked if she should buy the cat for you. I told her no, but I never told her that Iwas going to get her for you!” Mr. DeFranco said, patting Miracle’s soft fur.
“DADDY!!!!!!” shrieked Kenzie, running at her father.
“Jim?” asked Mrs. DeFranco, not believing her eyes.
As all of the family hugged each other, Ginny began to smile.
“This is the best Christmas present EVER!”

THE END

Love

If your love were a river,
I’d drown in it.
If your eyes were the sun,
I would become blind looking into them.
If your kindness was a tree,
I would get lost in the forest.
If you were a fire,
I would be warm forever.
You see, I love you.
I lover everything about you.
So don’t ever change.
For your love is a river;
and I have already drowned.

OMG SOOOOOOOOO CUTE!!!

Girl: Do you want me?

Boy: No

Girl: Would you cry if I left?

Boy: No

Girl: Would you live for me?

Boy: No

Girl: Would you do anything for me?

Boy: No

Girl: Choose–me or ur life

Boy: my life

The girl runs away in shock and pain and the boy runs after her and says…

The reason you never cross my mind is because you’re always on my mind.

The reason why I don’t like you is because I love you.

The reason I don’t want you is because I need you.

The reason I wouldn’t cry if you left is because I would die if you left.

The reason I wouldn’t live for you is because I would die for you.

The reason why I’m not willing to do you anything for you is because I would do everything for you.

The reason I chose my life is because you ARE my life.

Hey, everybody « Welcome to My Life

Hey, everybody « Welcome to My Life

War

I’m shivering. I feel like an icicle has stabbed me right in the heart and has started crawling through my bloodstream. The wierd part is, it’s not cold out. It’s not cold at all!!! In fact, it’s about 80º outside. But I’m still shivering.
As I get out of bed, I hear shouts and screams coming from the streets. I hear a woman sobbing,
“Please, no! He’s just a little boy!!! Take me, not him! Please, he hasn’t seen the world yet.” And then I hear a shot, a scream, and then even more sobbing.
Now it’s getting scary. I jump back into bed and close my eyes, cover my ears, trying to cover it up. But there is no way I can rid these sounds and sights, smells and feelings. For this is war.

Hey, everybody!

Hey, guys!! Well, I’m HOPING that I know you all-if I don’t please don’t look at my site, because it’s private to the people that know my account. So, um, anyways. I’m WICKED excited about my new account; I love to write, so this is the perfect site for me! So, just wanted to say hi, and if you want, you can leave comments and stuff. Plus, I’m brand new, so do you think you could explain some stuff to me? Like how do I read what I’ve written? And how can I change my theme? And how can I leave comments on other peoples’ pages? So, if you have an answer to any of these questions, please leave a comment. Thanks!!!!