JANUARY 15, 2012

Did I ever describe my class’s cliques? I’ve looked through and apparently I didn’t. This is long overdue.

Girls

1. Gossip Lovers- gossipus loverie- Known as the “root of all gossip”. Love spreading rumors. Pretend to innocently ask you personal questions and then spread rumors about you. Most popular.

Likes: Gossiping, Being Mean, Rumors

Dislikes: Anybody who stands up to them, Anybody who’s different

2. Popular Clique- annoyingus populares- Known as tight-knit, exclusive group. Friendly to others, but still tight-knit.

Likes: Origami, Sports, Dancing, Anything Cool

Dislikes: Anything that’s uncool.

3. In-Betweeners- Betweenus-  Known for being not cool, but not uncool. Liked by most. Where I am.

Likes: Being Different, Sarcasm

Dislikes: Wannabes, People With Egos

Boys

1. Obnoxious and Popular- jerkus popularie- most boys. Known for being jerks.

Likes: Teasing Girls, Especially In-Betweeners, Hit Songs

Dislikes: N/A

2. In-Betweeners- betweenus- Boys who are okay.

Likes: Stupidity, Stupid Games

Dislikes: N/A

Dear reader,
Today i’m telling going to tell you a bit more about what’s happened to me. This time it’s bullying. Yeh.. Not a very nice subject. But that’s life. It’s full of not very nice things. And sometimes it’s to horrible to hear about. But I’m writing this to let other people who get bullied know that they’re not alone in the world. That there are people out there who are going through the same things.

I was bullied for one thing at first. My nose. I got it from my dad, and he has a bump at the bridge of his nose. So do I. And that’s how it started. A boy in some of my classes at school would make nasty comments. Lets call him ‘Mike’. Just because I don’t know anyone called Mike. Then it started to spread to other people. Soon, even my friends would say things. It was horrible. And just when I thought it had stopped, something happened. I was with some of my friends when one of them said that I sounded like Mr Bean when I have a cold. So ‘Mike’ and some other people started calling me Mr Bean. Then it was Pinochio. And this has been going on for almost 2 years. But it makes you a better person. It’s not about how many punches you can take. It’s about how may punches you can take and still be able to get back up.

Yours faithfully,

Caitlin xx

Right now I’m typing this up on my laptop that is nearly out of battery, so I have to make this quick. For Christmas I got a big tub of sweets, make-up, perfume, a keyring, a cool coat, a fashion desinging book, a book and more.

More tomorrow

I thought the most simplest thing today: cats sweat by there feet. I know, I know. Stupidest thought. But, Hey! Who knew? Cats sweat in their feet by the padded part. Cool, huh?! Bye Bye Journal!!

Sincerely, Pr3ttee

Morning. Dawn was just over the horizon. Pale streaks of light streaked across the dark blue sky and light, fluffy clouds shown a bright orange. I stretched and yawned. My day would begin as soon as the sun broke over the horizon.

I made my way out of bed and quickly dressed. As soon as I had finished brushing my teeth, I heard my mother calling me and my brother to the kitchen for breakfast. I made my way down the hall, past the living room and past the boy who claimed to be my brother (somehow I highly doubted it).

I entered the dining room and sat down. Almost immediately my mother set down a plate of pancakes in front of me. I reached for the syrup as my brother sat down at his place.

“Hey!” my brother yelled, his arm half extended to the empty space where the syrup used to be, “Give me that! You don’t even like syrup!”

I sighed. My brother could be really difficult sometimes. I tried to explain nicely, like the big sister that I was.

“I know that I don’t like syrup, but that’s the only thing I can put on my pancakes right now,” I explained as I poured the thick, sweet liquid over my breakfast. I tried to put as little as possible. Too much and I wouldn’t be able to finish my breakfast.

My brother’s dark hair, framing his face, gleamed in the light as he leaned across the table and grabbed the syrup from me.

“Hey!” I shouted.

He simply smiled. This totally made me snap! I grabbed the hot sauce bottle which was what was closest to me. I unscrewed the lid and aimed it at the boy.

“You had better not!” he yelled, his voice rising.

I aimed for his shirt. The red sauce splattered across the white fabric. Some slashed up onto his chin, dotting it with red specks.

My brother’s eyes looked like I had sprayed the hot sauce in them, instead of on his shirt. He ground his teeth and grabbed a fistful of pancake in his hand.

Plop! The pancake landed on my head. It stayed on top for a moment before sliding slowly down my hair and onto the floor.

I ran. Straight to the kitchen sink! Grabbing a glass I filled it to the brim with water. As it was filling, I imagined all the things I could do with it.

Pour it into his backpack, “spill” it onto his homework, have some water “accidentally” spill onto his bedspread. Oh the possibilities!

Or I could just drown him in it.

I turned from the sink and stomped to the table. As soon as I reached him, I poured all of the content onto his ugly, mean head!

The water spilled onto his hair and down his face. It streaked down his neck and into his shirt collar.

He yelled. The sound was so loud, that my mother came running. She was half way ready. Her shirt was on, but she was still in her sweatpants. The left side of her hair was combed and her right was all tangled and the comb was stuck in it.

“What on Earth is going on here?” she demanded, staring at the sight in front of her. My brother stood, soggy and dripping on the kitchen floor. His fist were clenched and he kept making little grrrt grrrt noises. Ok, I admit it was a pretty bad scene and it did look like I was the one to blame.

“Hmm.” My mother looked at us. Then she shook her head and dished out the punishments: one week grounding for him (because she knew he had done something) and two week grounding for me (because I poured water on his head and ruined the only white shirt he hadn’t ruined himself). Totally unfair!  

The show went by too fast. At the end, the whole grade gave the actors a standing ovation.  At 10:30, we boarded the bus again and got cookies and water. We returned to the school at 11:30, where our parents picked us up.

Did I like seeing a Broadway show? NO! I loved it!  Would I do it again? Definitely

The End…..

That’s right, you’re upstate, aren’t you? I’m glad I figured that out.

But if you’re there, you can’t be here. Will you ever be back? Will you be gone forever?

No, you’ll be back. I’m sure of it. You said you would be, wouldn’t you?

But you also said my dad was going to China. He’s not. You lied. So how can I be sure you’ll be back?

You’ve got stuff here, of course. You wouldn’t leave clothing and your fife here if you weren’t coming back, would you? I call you crazy, but you’re not THAT crazy. Yes, you’re coming back.

Come back soon! I think you’ve got something extra in your suitcase.

My heart. ._. I miss you, Matthew. Come back soon.

Hey, maybe I’ll write a song, or a poem! Free verse. I’ve a song in my heart and head, and I can’t really think of a tune.

No, I can’t write. My fingers itch to hit the play button. I can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound stupid.

Maybe I’ll write later.

Since school ends in about two weeks for me, (June 23, to be exact), I’ve got summer on my mind.  The most exciting thing I’m doing this summer is flying to California at the beginning of July. It will be the first time I’ll be on the plane. (Kind of sad, since I’m eleven already.) I’ll also be going to Cape Cod, Massachusetts. Has anybody ever been there? I was there last summer and that place is made of awesome. I never had any candy there, except for a small piece of fudge last summer, which is a shame since Cape Cod is literally loaded with candy and ice cream stores. I heard the taffy in Cape Cod is pretty good, but I didn’t have any last year and for sure I’m not having any this year, since I got braces last November. (Darn braces! Braces are such a pain in the neck. Or shall I say pain in the mouth? *smirk*) Besides traveling, I’ll also be doing the usual summer things, such as going to the beach and the pool and complaining about the heat. I’ll also have the oppurtunity to eat lots of ice cream since a new ice cream place just opened across the street from my house.

I’ve also got lots of books to read. I’ll read a lot of my comic books.  I’m also starting to read the Harry Potter books to find out what all the hubbub is about. I also want to finish A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket. I’m on book six and there are thirteen books. I’m also trying to read classics. I’m really focused on reading The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain.

Signing Off,

Bella

P.S: Comment on what your summer plans are

This is not a fluffy story, such as those so-called “guilty pleasure stories”.  Nor is it a fiction story.  This is a story about a girl.  And that girl is me and I have a gift.

I first realized my gift (and hunger) when I was in kindergarten.  According to my mother and my memory, I was like a sponge, soaking up knowledge. But the type of knowledge I liked to be taught the most was things involving language, such as phonics.  One of my favorite activities was something we did in class called “journal”.  Every week, they would give us a sheet of paper with a topic such as  “The Big Blizzard” and there would be a few lines where we could write. We would have to write a sentence about what we did, how we feel, or describing that topic. Then, we would draw a picture under our sentence. But, unlike most girls in my class, I didn’t like the drawing part better than the writing part. If they didn’t give us only a few lines, I probably could have wrote a good paragraph on a topic. Then came first grade. In first grade, we started writing compositions of two to three sentences. Yet,
I would write five or six sentences.  One time, I wrote three or four pages on one Curious George book!  From first grade and up until now, fifth grade, I always loved writing. I had the gift of being a good writer.  I also had, well have a hunger.  I’m ever reading, thinking, and writing.  Thanks for listening.

-Bella

I know this sounds pretty lame, but I’m acually looking forward to school this year. One reason is that my best friend, Madison Long was away at camp or whatever ALL summer. And whatmore, my parents were at eachother’s throats. Meaning: they fought at least every milisecond. Anyway, all I can think about, as my mom drives us to school is how I want to have million classes with Madison this year.

“Okay, have a great, Cara!” my mom calls from the open window of the car.

“Sure, Mom,” I waved and was about to walk away when my little sister Laurie yelled from the back seat,” Bye, Cara! Bye,bye!” My little sister is going to second grade and she can’t seem to want to stop ahouting.

I waved and walked across the paved drop off , to the school entrence. i looked for Madison at the water fountain where we’d agreed to meet today. (We planned that Last Year!) Madison wasn’t there.

She probaby forgot, I thought. I walked down the hallway to my hystory teacher Mr. Saltwheather’s room. I walked in and saw Madison already there! I decided that she had forgotten about the meeting fountain. After all, she hadn’t seen me for at least 2 months. I made my way to the seat next to her, but it was already accupied. Bridget Hauna Lought was sitting in the seat that Madison would normaly have saved for me.

She probably got there before Madison. Poor Madison, she might have tried. But, the two of them are chatting and laughing like Bridget had been Madison’s best friend instead of me.

“Um..hi,” I waved at Madison.

Madison didn’t seem to hear me. She continued to talk and giggle with Bridget. I frowned and sat down in a seat as the bell rang.

To be Continued….