Proof of our awesome English class: we decorated this door for a school-wide contest. 2nd place.
I’m posting a story I wrote for my freshman English class. I had forgotten about it until my brother asked for biology help, but in the same folder as my bio notes I found my entire freshman year repertoire.
I’m not posting this solely because I’m totally self-centered and want to show off my writing skills. (I may be a little proud, but I’m going to ignore that for the sake of recording my life on this blog.) No, what struck me about this is how it reflected my life at the time of writing (13 September 2009). I don’t enjoy ‘creative writing’ or fiction—this is probably my most recent piece—but I like how I distilled my current situation and emotions into the writing. I did cry over geometry homework, stress about sports, drink out a blue water bottle, and fail an art assignment. What can I say, transitioning to high school was rough for me.
If it seems to use strange words (like parapet, turret, and breastworks), it’s because the point of the assignment was to use a list of vocabulary words and their definitions.
This one’s to you, Mr. Eddy.
“A Bad Day”
Laura O’Dell sat in Geometry class, laboriously working on the newest pile of homework from the incompetent teacher. Everything was going wrong with this class today. She hadn’t been able to finish the previous day’s homework, a result of bad teaching and a basketball game that left her practically asleep over her homework. Of the problems Laura had managed to finish, most were wrong, discouraging her even further. Why did she have her worst subject right before lunch, she thought bitterly, at a time when her growling stomach blocked her attempts to concentrate.
The teacher was talking so fast, droning on and on. Laura was trying to comprehend it with all the will she could summon, but wanted nothing but to lay down her head down and cry. She wanted her tears to streak the blue ink covering the paper, but her cursedly self-disciplined nature kept her eyes dry—barely.
The students around her began a great shuffling noise, with papers fluttering and calculator lids sliding shut. What? Laura sat up spasmodically; everyone must be leaving for lunch, she thought. She hadn’t heard the bell, and suddenly she was alone with the teacher and the loud busy hum of the air conditioning unit. Ms. Mathis approached her desk, looking with concern upon Laura’s drawn, ascetic face.
“Having a hard day?”
Laura was struck by remorse for being so distraught over schoolwork. Her mind’s eye retracted from the cold classroom to see a tiny Earth hanging in an infinite universe. She remembered what her dad had said just a couple days back—“You have to make sacrifices sometimes, so that you can live your life.” But the feeling of deep guilt about her self-pity was as brief as it was sudden. Why shouldn’t she feel horrible?
At least this teacher wasn’t inhuman, no matter how inefficient Laura considered her. A tremor of relief ran through her, relief that she could stand up from behind the breastworks barely hiding her distress.
“Um…” Laura took a breath. “Yeah, there’s so much homework, and it seems I have so little time.” She smiled weakly, and the teacher returned it. Even though she felt like a child for complaining, she was a little better. Also, Laura remembered happily, it was lunchtime. No worries there, right?
Walking to the cafeteria in the bright sunlight, hearing the water tricking out of the fountain and the wind rustling the trees was balm. The barest outline of a smile appeared on her face. “Look at this beautiful weather! It’s almost fall!” Laura thought, and her smile grew.
Her light steps grew heavy again when she reached the doors of the cafeteria. Where were her friends? She looked around and hurried to the parapet, peering below to see if they might be on the second level. There! There they were, sitting right by the bottom of the short staircase—an interesting mix of those whose real friends ate at a different time, students new to the school, and whoever had got kicked out of their usual tables. What a telling thing it was, where people sit at a meal, Laura thought.
A few at the table were thinking the same thing miserably, a few who cared for popularity. When Laura needed a seat, they could stand it no longer and decided the excuse to get up might as well take them to another table.
It left Laura, her best friend Brianna, and a few boys from their Geometry class. Just as Laura was taking a deep draught from her water bottle, her friend Angie approached their table.
“Hey, Angie, what took you so long? Here, sit down.”
“You know, yesterday we got kicked out of this table by upperclassmen—some obnoxious boys,” Angie said. She didn’t sit down, but edged towards a nearby table.
“What, those boys over in the line?” Laura looked over her shoulder furtively, like a sniper peeking over a defensive low wall. There was a group of dark-looking boys waiting in the lunch line.
“Yeah, those are the ones.”
She was gripped in a sudden fit of irritation. “For Heaven’s sake, Angie, sit down! We’ll just tell them no—it’s our table today!” I can’t handle her weakness right now, thought Laura selfishly.
“I wouldn’t be that brave,” said Brianna.
“I’m sorry. Angie, you can sit wherever you like. But I’m too cross to move,” Laura said icily, and then sighed, wishing she wasn’t feeling so mean.
“What’s wrong, Laura?” asked Brianna.
“Just a bad day.” Laura sighed again. “I have another game today, but I’m so tired and still kind of sick, and I have way too much homework. And this morning I was looking for my new sandals I just bought, and I think I’m going crazy, for I put them right by my bed and now I can’t find them anywhere. Then this morning in art, I got a 76 on my project! I worked so hard on it all last week and I didn’t finish like 10% of it… so my teacher gives me a D!”
“I’m sorry. At least you’re learning—that’s all that the grades should reflect… how much you’re learning.”
“Amen,” said Laura, and put her head down in her arms.
“Guys, don’t mess with Laura today,” Brianna said to Wilson and Frank, their friends from Geometry.
“Why?” Laura’s lamentations had gone over their sports talk and banter, and Brianna sighed at their cluelessness.
“A bad day, is all. OK?”
Laura sat up and took another drink of water, and held the thick plastic bottle up to her face. Suddenly, through the blue she saw the silhouette of some tall and stocky figures standing by their table.
“This ain’t your table,” one said slowly, looming like a small tower.
“It is today. We have as much right to it as you do, except we got here first,” Laura replied quickly, her light green eyes dangerous-looking.
“Hey, OK, little lady.” He laughed mockingly, his friends following suit. They turned and went to the first level of the cafeteria.
As soon as they left the small round table erupted in a paroxysm of noise.
“You looked like you just might shoot someone, and they sure didn’t want to be your enemies.”
“I just hope they don’t shoot me!” She looked back up to the low railing above them, as if expecting to be picked off at any moment.
“Oh, Laura, I can’t believe that you told ‘em off like that,” said Angie.
“Well, you can’t let people ruin your lunch.”
“You can’t let a bad attitude ruin your day,” said Brianna wisely.
“You’re right. I think this cheered me up a bit, actually. I overcame a challenge.” The girls laughed at Laura’s word choice.
“You’re so weird,” said Wilson briefly, and then turned back to discussing how to defend the turret in his and Frank’s favorite video game.
They all laughed again.
His arrogant, jocular countenance is a cover for his bitterness. His dedication and diligence have not brought him the benefits he expected. Mr. R cannot sleep at night until he’s complained about his teacher’s salary. In the following anecdote, he was at Wal-Mart, he said, and the cashier was ringing up his purchases. He commented on the numbers jumping higher and higher, and she replied, “It could be worse. You could be a teacher.”
