"Hi. Um, Caddarik. Do you want to come over for pizza at 6?" She bats her eyelashes.
"Yeah..." I say. She squeals happily.
"Yay!"
"...But no. I'm busy that time. See you never, I hope!" I walk off, pleased with myself.
(Yes, I notice the majority of the sentences begin with 'I'. Do I look like I care? Well, you can't see me... oh, you know what I mean!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"And you actually said that to her? Dude, you're KFC. She's the richest in the whole valley." Aqua stares at me. I don't really take in what she's saying. She looks way different than last year.
She dyed the back of her hair spring green with electric blue highlights, so her braid looks like the earth. The front of her hair is so black it's violet, and she has white eyes, snow-white skin, and she's a centimeter shorter than me. She's wearing a T-shirt that has a HUGE white-navy blue-dragon-thing. I transparent L descends over the dragon. Acid washed jeans, black hightops, white shirts with nothing on them. That's what she was like last year. Now she has dark black jeans that have a realistic serpent-thing pattern sown onto them. Blood-red sneakers with fat laces, and her dragon shirt. Aqua pulls back her desk chair and sits down.
"Rick, you honestly have to stop goofing off like this. It could get you in trouble one day."
'Yeah, you're right, I guess," I reach in my backpack for my wallet. ",But it's kind of a habit. Hey, I need to go get something to eat. Wanna tag along?" I ask.
She looks at her watch and thinks about it.
"Not today, m'dude. Tons of homework."
"Got it."
I leave her house and walk to Pip's Popular Pizza. It used to be just Pip's Pizza.
I sit at a one-person table and bring out my computer. I start typing up my homework until a waiter comes over.
"The usual, Ricky?" Sasha asks (Hey, I come here a LOT).
"Um, yeah. No pepper this time, though." I respond, still typing.
"OK, it'll be right out. Do you want your potato chips crispy or soft?"
"You know already," I say, snickering a little.
"Crispy it is, then. Oh, and the salty sauce just came out--"
"Nah."
"Then, you're food'll be here."
I keep typing.
Napoleon Bonaparte, French Dictator
Wait, was he a dictator? Eh, it'll only be a few points off if I'm wrong.
"Your food, Ricky."
"Thanks." I bite into the pizza and only ten minutes later I've finished. I polish off the chips and leave the money on the table. My homework is done, computer is turned off, tucked into my bag. So I grab my bag and go back home.
I look at the time. 6:10. By the time I get to the field, baseball practice'll be done. I call coach on my phone.
"Yeah, Rick?"
"Um, can't make it to ball today. Got kind of caught up in homework."
"S'fine. But tomorrow's the game, remember. Gotta make it then."
"Sure thing, ol' coach. Bye."
"Bye, Rick." I hang up. I zip open my bag and just as I'm putting in my phone, there's... a sword. A SWORD. It's dazzling.
The darkest black blade I had ever seen, no seration. It had a hard silver hilt, and it was studded with small, perfect emeralds. A huge emerald shaped like a dragon was centered on the hilt. It was amazing. Perfect weight, perfect fit. I loved it. I examined it until I got home.
~~~
That night, when I was in bed, I heard a voice. It was soft, yet vicious, and it spoke with extreme anger.
DISCARD ME. DESTROY ME. IN-CI-NER-ATE ME!
I got up and looked at the clock. Was it Leaf, my little sister, playing a trick on me?
I looked up. My door swung shut. I yelled, "LEEEAAAF! COME BACK HERE, LITTLE FREAK!"
A few minutes later, she was by my door, yawning and rubbing her tired-looking eyes.
"I'm going to INCINERATE you, all right! Don't do that again!"
"Do what?"
"You know what!," I scowled and screamed. "The 'Discard me, destroy me, incinerate me' thing! I'm not falling for your little trick!"
"IT'S FOUR IN THE MORNING! WHY WOULD I BE PLAYING A TRICK?!," She roared in her annoying 12-year-old voice. "YOU BEEPING SIXTEEN YEAR OLDS!" She storms out of the... open... door? That's weird. I always close my door at night. As I see something, a chill goes down my spine.
I left my sword in my closet. In a locked box. And Leaf didn't know the combination.
The sword is leaned against the open door, covered in a ghastly silvery blood.
"Yeah..." I say. She squeals happily.
"Yay!"
"...But no. I'm busy that time. See you never, I hope!" I walk off, pleased with myself.
(Yes, I notice the majority of the sentences begin with 'I'. Do I look like I care? Well, you can't see me... oh, you know what I mean!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"And you actually said that to her? Dude, you're KFC. She's the richest in the whole valley." Aqua stares at me. I don't really take in what she's saying. She looks way different than last year.
She dyed the back of her hair spring green with electric blue highlights, so her braid looks like the earth. The front of her hair is so black it's violet, and she has white eyes, snow-white skin, and she's a centimeter shorter than me. She's wearing a T-shirt that has a HUGE white-navy blue-dragon-thing. I transparent L descends over the dragon. Acid washed jeans, black hightops, white shirts with nothing on them. That's what she was like last year. Now she has dark black jeans that have a realistic serpent-thing pattern sown onto them. Blood-red sneakers with fat laces, and her dragon shirt. Aqua pulls back her desk chair and sits down.
"Rick, you honestly have to stop goofing off like this. It could get you in trouble one day."
'Yeah, you're right, I guess," I reach in my backpack for my wallet. ",But it's kind of a habit. Hey, I need to go get something to eat. Wanna tag along?" I ask.
She looks at her watch and thinks about it.
"Not today, m'dude. Tons of homework."
"Got it."
I leave her house and walk to Pip's Popular Pizza. It used to be just Pip's Pizza.
I sit at a one-person table and bring out my computer. I start typing up my homework until a waiter comes over.
"The usual, Ricky?" Sasha asks (Hey, I come here a LOT).
"Um, yeah. No pepper this time, though." I respond, still typing.
"OK, it'll be right out. Do you want your potato chips crispy or soft?"
"You know already," I say, snickering a little.
"Crispy it is, then. Oh, and the salty sauce just came out--"
"Nah."
"Then, you're food'll be here."
I keep typing.
Napoleon Bonaparte, French Dictator
Wait, was he a dictator? Eh, it'll only be a few points off if I'm wrong.
"Your food, Ricky."
"Thanks." I bite into the pizza and only ten minutes later I've finished. I polish off the chips and leave the money on the table. My homework is done, computer is turned off, tucked into my bag. So I grab my bag and go back home.
I look at the time. 6:10. By the time I get to the field, baseball practice'll be done. I call coach on my phone.
"Yeah, Rick?"
"Um, can't make it to ball today. Got kind of caught up in homework."
"S'fine. But tomorrow's the game, remember. Gotta make it then."
"Sure thing, ol' coach. Bye."
"Bye, Rick." I hang up. I zip open my bag and just as I'm putting in my phone, there's... a sword. A SWORD. It's dazzling.
The darkest black blade I had ever seen, no seration. It had a hard silver hilt, and it was studded with small, perfect emeralds. A huge emerald shaped like a dragon was centered on the hilt. It was amazing. Perfect weight, perfect fit. I loved it. I examined it until I got home.
~~~
That night, when I was in bed, I heard a voice. It was soft, yet vicious, and it spoke with extreme anger.
DISCARD ME. DESTROY ME. IN-CI-NER-ATE ME!
I got up and looked at the clock. Was it Leaf, my little sister, playing a trick on me?
I looked up. My door swung shut. I yelled, "LEEEAAAF! COME BACK HERE, LITTLE FREAK!"
A few minutes later, she was by my door, yawning and rubbing her tired-looking eyes.
"I'm going to INCINERATE you, all right! Don't do that again!"
"Do what?"
"You know what!," I scowled and screamed. "The 'Discard me, destroy me, incinerate me' thing! I'm not falling for your little trick!"
"IT'S FOUR IN THE MORNING! WHY WOULD I BE PLAYING A TRICK?!," She roared in her annoying 12-year-old voice. "YOU BEEPING SIXTEEN YEAR OLDS!" She storms out of the... open... door? That's weird. I always close my door at night. As I see something, a chill goes down my spine.
I left my sword in my closet. In a locked box. And Leaf didn't know the combination.
The sword is leaned against the open door, covered in a ghastly silvery blood.
No comments:
Post a Comment
The Art and Aspirations of a Commenter
I believe in the power of a free exchange of ideas. I also recognize that words or access to
some information can be of harm to others, intentionally or unintentionally. As a
commenter, I therefore aspire to participate responsibly in the great online conversation
by:
* treating all bloggers with respect.
* seeking first to understand what is being said.
* celebrating another's accomplishments.
* using school appropriate language.
* rephrasing ideas in the blog that made me think, made me feel, or helped me learn
to let the blogger know his/her voice has been heard.
* commenting specifically and positively, without criticism. If I disagree, I will
comment appropriately, politely stating my perspective.
* being mindful always that I may be a role model to my audience, especially if they
are younger than I.
* making no reference to, link to, and/or giving access to any information that may
be inappropriate for a school setting.
* asking at least one question in my comment with the hopes of continuing a
conversation and deepening thinking.
* using a triple check before submitting any comment: Would I be happy to have my
mother read this comment? My grandmother? My favorite teacher?