Voices surround me in a wave of highschoolers scurrying to their sixth period class. Backpacks grazed my skin as I struggled to make my way through the crowd. I finally catch my breath. I start to lightly sweat until a gust of wind blows against my neck giving me the chills. I finally made it to my sixth period english class, the last class of the day.
“OMG JAC-”
“Ahhhh!” I screamed in terror. I turned around to see a tall broad shouldered boy with fluffy black hair and bushy eyebrows. “Oh my gosh Clayton you scared me” I laughed.
“Jackie there are fifteen days until Christmas!” Clayton yelled excitedly.
As we entered our english class, our teacher Mrs. Amos greeted us by the door. Mrs. Amos was a petite woman. She wore a light brown dress with beige birds all over it accompanied with a pair of what looked like Mary Jane inspired shoes but not exactly the same. I looked around the classroom to see tables were scattered and misaligned with one another, and the voices of rustled up freshmen filled the room. A soft ringing filled the halls and students rushed into their seats. We have been reading To Kill a Mockingbird in class for about a month and have been reviewing it. “Good afternoon class,’ Mrs. Amos greeted the class, ‘Over the past month we have been
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I slipped and hit my knee sending waves pain up my leg, but I continued up the stairs. I made it up to my room slamming the door behind me and pushing all the old homeworks papers scattered across my desk onto the floor. The room was a big cluttery mess with my bed unmade and trash spread across my bedroom floor, but I had not a care in the world except my narrative. I was never really clever with words but that day I ignored that and only thought of the true meaning behind my narrative. It is ok to accept that you are not such a great person you thought you were, but by realizing it and trying to fix it makes you grow closer to being a good