“People running for student council, applications are due next Monday!” The morning announcer announced over the intercom. Yea! Another way for popular students to rule the school! I thought to myself as I pretended to read my completely uninteresting book. I was so sick of popular kids. They think that they are so cool. It sucks. They don’t even do anything good with their influence in the school. All they do is make fun of others, show up to school in their fancy sports cars and Gucci and Chanel bags and designer jackets. Who would want to vote for them?
Just then, my best friend, Chelsea, texted me. “Hey, Amber, you should TOTALLY run for student council!”
I replied, “We all know that I would not stand a chance against Cecilia and her posse.” Cecilia was the most popular girl in school, and boys drooled over her. Not that I cared about that.
Chelsea texted, “You never know. Like I always say ‘never let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game’.”
I rolled my eyes.
Chelsea texted, “You better not have just rolled your eyes!” She knows me too well!
I texted, “I didn’t!”
Chelsea wrote, “You did and you should turn in an application!”
I turned off my phone.
I hate to admit it, but, I dwelled on that thought for all of class. The idea consumed me. In my head, I argued both sides. I was surprised that I didn’t start screaming from all of the arguing that was going on inside of my brain.
When that class was finally let out, Chelsea, was at the door, waiting for me in record time. I wanted to bolt down the hallway, but, I didn’t. Chelsea led me across the hallway, to the activities office, where the applications were kept.
“Why are you here?” I asked Chelsea.
“Because I knew that you wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t make you.” Chelsea answered.
“You’re right.” I replied, grabbing an application.
Just then, the biggest jerk of them all, Cecilia breezed on by, followed by her groupies. Ugh. She stopped dead in front of me.
“Why are you even running? We all know that yours truly is going to win.” Cecilia told me. I flattened myself against the wall to get as far away from her as I possibly could.
“There is no harm in trying. I’ve got nothing to lose.” I told her, confidently.
“You’ll be humiliated in front of the entire school.” Cecilia sneered.
“Oh, well, at least, I can say that I tried. But, by the way, all that make-up that your wearing is so last season, I’d imagine that you of all people would know that. The only reason that I can think of, as to why you would be wearing all of that make-up, is for a new look or because you have red blotches all over your face and you’re trying to hide it. I’d go with the red blotches, because, the new ‘look’ is ugly and unoriginal; just like you.” I snapped. Cecilia gasped, and left stomping out, her posse following. I grinned widely.
“Oh my gosh…I don’t think that I’ve ever seen anybody be able to do that to her!” Chelsea exclaimed.
“That was nothing! Anybody could have done that.” I answered, brushing the whole situation off.
“Whatever. That was totally something.” Chelsea said as we walked out of the activities office and to our next class.
Chelsea and I took our seats that were right next to each other. I slumped in my seat and started to look over the application.
Where do you see yourself in ten years? Twenty years?
If you could change the world, what would you change?
What do you want to do when you’re older?
What do you want to study in college?
Where do you want to go to college?
Do you have a favorite quote?
If so, what is it? What do you like about it?
“Chelsea, I don’t know how to answer any of these!” I whispered to her.
“Here, I’ll take this and see if we can go to the library, and I’ll ask you these questions.” Chelsea said, grabbing the application.
No matter what the class was, Chelsea had a way of getting what she wanted. English was beyond easy for both Chelsea and I and the teacher knew it. There was no sense in forcing us to stay in a class in which we already knew everything and if we didn’t, it would only take us two seconds to learn it. Besides, our teacher was a sucker for student council type of things. She would say yes to the stupidest kid in the class for that reason, yet alone Chelsea and me. I began to pack up what I had already gotten out to be ready for class.
Chelsea smiled as she walked back to her seat, with all of our classwork and homework in hand. Looking at the papers, our teacher was going to be instructing grammar, something Chelsea and I understood but nobody else seemed to get. I was glad that we were leaving so that I wouldn’t have to sit through that lesson for the umpteenth time. Chelsea and I left the classroom.
We walked across the school to the library. We sat down at the nearest table. I put my backpack on the floor next to my chair. I sat back in my chair and relaxed. Chelsea hunched over the table, ready to write down whatever I told her.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Ready. Where do you see yourself in ten years?” Chelsea asked me.
“I’ll have finished college and started a career. I’ll maybe even have begun to start a family.” I answered. I hadn’t given much thought to my future, I planned on just letting it pan out by itself.
“Where do you see yourself in twenty years?” She asked me.
“I’ll be continuing my family and career. I’ll hopefully have my dream house in my dream neighborhood, all the while doing work to publicize world hunger and poverty. Plus, I’ll be doing some community service.” I answered. My dream house was huge with a pool, balcony, library, three-car garage, etc. My dream neighborhood was a nice-looking one, with nice, smart, hard-working neighbors; it didn’t matter where it was located.
“If you could change something about the world, what would you change?” She asked.
“Like I said, world hunger and poverty. People everywhere should be able to have food and drinking water. Those who have them tend to take it for granted. I hope to one day get the opportunity to go into a country where they don’t have those basic necessities and help them out. Maybe even sponsor a kid.” I answered. “I think that my brother tends to take food for granted; he eats like a pig, it’s disgusting.”
“What do you want to do when you’re older?” Chelsea asked.
“I want to work in the government. I don’t know where, but, I want to help as many people as humanly possible. I also want to start a charity for world hunger and poverty.” I answered, thinking about what else I might want to do in the future.
“What do you want to study in college?” Chelsea asked.
“I don’t know. Preferably something that could help me with my job and charity ideas.” I answered. I was thinking maybe business, but, I wasn’t sure enough to actually say.
“Where do you want to go to college?” She questioned me.
“I have no clue. I’ll have to put some more research into that. Somewhere that specializes in my major, when I figure that out.” I answered.
“Do you have a favorite quote?” Chelsea questioned me.
“Yes. ‘Never let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game’.” I answered. I know that it was related baseball and from a movie, but, it was still my favorite quote.
“Why so?” She asked.
“I believe that everyone should live by it. I try to. It’s what encouraged me to do this. It’s motivating.” I explained. We soon finished the application, Chelsea assisting me on the questions that I had difficulty answering.
I turned in the application after English.
That evening, Chelsea helped me make posters to hang up around school and buttons, stickers, and cards to pass out. We even came up with catchy slogans for my campaign, settling with “a vote for Amber, is a vote for change.”
The next day we handed out the buttons, stickers, cards and hung up posters.
When the time for elections came, I was feeling more than a little anxious. I wasn’t sure that I would win, but, Chelsea was.
“You’ve got this!” She whispered to me as we walked into fourth period, the period that Student Council officers would be announced.
With ten minutes left in the period, the intercom came on.
“Students, we have your Student Council members,” the announcer announced. I just tried to concerate on breathing in and out. The whole announcement was background noise, until I heard, “Amber Johnson”. I did it! I was elected to the Student Council!
The whole classroom erupted into cheers and congratulations.
I started to cry. I admit it. I guess that when they say ‘Never let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game,’ it is good advice. Plus, the best part was, Cecilia won’t be joining the Student Council due to a lack of votes. I guess that popular kids don’t rule everything, after all. Ha, in your face, Cecilia!
Category Archives: Writing
A story that I wrote in Creative Writing last year
Here’s a story that I wrote in Creative Writing, the year before the school cut it 😦 :
“Fruitilicious Fruits: all the fruit you can eat plus much more!” restaurant was having an extremely slow day when Lilly, a pregnant woman who was in her late twenties walked in.
She marched up to the counter, where, Scaredy Cat Mike was. They called him ‘Scaredy Cat’, because, he had a fear of, that’s right, pregnant women. The reason that he was afraid of pregnant women, was the very reason why Lilly, who is nine months along, walked in to the restaurant: for food and lots of it, RIGHT WAY!
Her belly stuck out like a child, putting a basketball under their shirt to make it look like that they were pregnant. Now, if Lilly wasn’t so hungry and not craving fruit, she would have laughed at Mike as she watched his eyes get big and pop out. Then, his face turned pink, then red, purple, then red, and finally pink again. Mike let out a blood-curdling shriek as he was preparing for the onslaught of food orders. But, right now, Lilly just saw Mike as an obstacle in her way to the unlimited amount of fruit she desired, the apple of her eye.
She massaged her stomach as she walked up to the counter. Immediately she began ordering a variety of menu items. Mike tried his very best to keep up with Lilly, but, man , was it hard! She was placing her order at fifty miles per hour; words flying out of her mouth like a sports car speeding down a deserted back country road.
Lilly was so overcome by her pregnant cravings, that she didn’t consider all that food that she just ordered was over two hundred dollars! She shrieked in horror! She cursed! She threw her hands up! She grabbed Mike by his shirt and yelled at him! Poor Mike! I believe that his fear of pregnant women had just gotten that much worse. Most people would believe that Lilly had gone mad, but no, she passed mad long ago! I believe, that she had just gone insane! There was no stopping her now!
As soon as the restaurant’s owner saw what was going on, which was right about now, the owner came running to his helpless employee’s aid. The owner pried Lilly’s fingers loose from Mike’s shirt. Mike ran off the back room, where it was “Employees Only” and where he was safe and hidden from pregnant customers.
Since there were no other customers in the restaurant, the owner walked around the counter to Lilly to talk to her. He tried explaining to her over and over again that no, she couldn’t have everything that she ordered , if she couldn’t pay for it; his voice growing more and more desperate with every explanation . He told her things like ‘if you had everything you ordered; then there would be none left for all of the rest of my customers.’ She didn’t care. Or that ‘if you had all of the fruit, there would be none left everybody else in the world.’ She wasn’t listening. He said that ‘if you had everything you ordered for, without paying for it, my restaurant would go bankrupt and nobody would ever be able to possibly enjoy “Fruitilicious Fruits: all the fruit you can eat plus much more!”’ She still wasn’t listening. He told her that ‘it would make everyone sad if they couldn’t enjoy “Fruitilicious Fruits: all the fruit you can eat plus much more!” just because a pregnant woman refused to give up what she couldn’t pay for.’ Lilly, in return, slapped him across the face!
Just as Lilly slapped the owner across the face, in walked a twenty-something year old stranger with a designer leather jacket & jeans, dark designer sunglasses, a salon haircut, and Italian leather shoes. He sauntered up to Lilly and the owner, who was now cradling his face. He hadn’t expected Lilly’s slap or the force behind it, but, he should have known, it wasn’t his first time being slapped by a girl or even a pregnant woman.
The twenty-something man demanded to know what was going on. The owner explained everything to the guy. The man, in return, pulled out a stack of money, exactly totaling up the cost of Lilly’s food and paid for it. The owner sent his workers straight to work to prepare her food.
In record time, her food was ready. Lilly, the clearly wealthy twenty-something good Samaritan guy, and the owner, whose face now just had a gigantic red mark the size of Lilly’s palm on it, sat down and talked while Lilly enjoyed her food.
Within an hour, the three had become fast friends. The owner even promised to make Lilly food for her, when he wasn’t working. Even Mike had ventured out of his hiding spot and came realize the pregnant women were actually decent human beings when they were fed.
Beware: fake celebrity writers invading the writing world!
books; they should be written by those who dream to get published
I like reading books, besides just writing. One thing that makes me upset, when is when celebrities say that they wrote a biography, but, actually had a ghostwriter do the work for them, the celebrity doing the bare minium. I get that this is a money thing, and celebrities=$. If the celebrity had actually wrote the book, then maybe I would read it, but, if they didn’t, I wouldn’t and I don’t see why anybody else would. It’s not the same. I’m fustrated that these publishers would actually want to publish these, because, whatever happened to talent that came in the form of writing and only doing what you were talented in? I get how celebrities want to get the truth out there, dismassing rumors about them. Why can’t they just do a tell-all interview instead?
When I grow up, I want to become an author. This will make my chances a lot slimmer of actually making my dream come true. These celebrities, their dreams weren’t to publish books, they were to do whatever they have famous for doing. But, because, they are how they are, they get their book published in front of others, who like me, have a dream of becoming a writer. Why can’t they leave the writing world alone and go back to Hollywood? Why can’t they leave the writing world be, and to others who do their own work and dream of getting published? Are they that selfish? I like some of these celebrities, but, I, unfortunately, have to say ‘yes’.
You may think that I’m against all celebrities publishing books, even if they actually wrote the book and had a dream of getting published. I’m not. I’m also not against Bethany Hamilton, who didn’t write her book, but, she told her story to one of her pastors, who did write, and he wrote down everything she told him.
What is a world without paper, letters, books, newspapers that are offline?
In a world that has become so technologically advanced, it’s easy to think of/imagine a world where writing with a writing utensil and paper will be scarce or unknown completely. This thought saddens me. Don’t get me wrong, I love being online and most of the technological advances, that we’re making , but, please don’t touch ink and paper. They’re fine just they way that they are, thank you.
One instance of ink and paper disappearing is, the newspaper. This is mainly the reason that I am writing this. I love reading the newspaper. Now, consider me old-fashioned,but, I love waking up, getting my breakfast, and while my breakfast is in the microwave, I enjoy going out and retrieving the newspaper from its box by the road, and reading it while eating breakfast. Also, the journalist in me, is always very ecstatic and feels very accomplished, when she sees her name in print and is able to hold her article up without having to go online, print out the article, and I’m not even sure that will mean as much to me. Plus, you wouldn’t be able to hold up everyone (who also helped with the newspaper)’s efforts. I don’t know about you, but, I don’t like to think about newspapers moving to be entirely online. People should take the time to stop and read the morning paper, in my opinion.
Another thing that I don’t like is that word documents are becoming more and more available. I would guess that more and more writers are not writing out their thoughts, feelings, stories, on paper, but just skipping to typing them up on the computer. I like to write my stories on the computer, don’t get me wrong, but, that’s after I have already written them out on paper; it forces me to edit them. For example, I wrote this blog down on a piece of paper before transferring it to here, partly because this idea struck me at 7 a.m. (thanks, God!) But, I love it, (not waking up at 7, though) I love hearing the sound of a pencil on paper, it is music to my ears! Especially when technology seems to be conquering this sacred writing world!
Furthermore, books are disappearing faster than ever before, and e-books are pouring in. I love to read books, maybe because I am a writer, I don’t know. There is something sentimental about opening a book, holding it in your hands, turning the pages. I love that feeling. Now, speaking from a writer/journalist’s perspective, as you now know, I am overjoyed to hold what I’ve written. As for now, I have not published a book, but, I aspire to, one day. When I do, I long to be able to hold that book in my hands, to hug it, maybe even to kiss it,
knowing I spent many long hours laboring away on it, and now to be able to hold it, to touch it, to put my arms around it. To be able to say ‘I did this’ or ‘I helped make this happen’. I fear that one day, and if it does happen, that my book will be downloaded onto kindles, ipads, etc. Not being directly held or having its pages turned.
Lastly, I am self-diagnosed Facebook addict. But, in this era of e-mail, texting and Facebook, nothing can take away the excitement of opening a handwritten letter. I know, it’s not the most fastest way of communicating, but, I still love it. Sure, if you have something urgent, e-mail, texting, and Facebook is much faster, but, if you just want to keep in touch with someone, letter writing is perfect! Again, maybe old-fashioned of me, but, when I go off to college (maybe before then too) I plan to be writing letters to people, only if I have their mailing address, though! (so, if if you want me to write you (and I won’t be offended if you don’t) feel free ti send me your mailing address.) Technology can make letter writing less common, but, it definitely won’t keep me from writing letters!
It trouble me to know that in less than a hundred years, newspapers, and books will be completely moved onto the internet and that the writers of those will not be able to enjoy the simplest pleasures that I do while writing. It also saddens me that before we know it, paper will cease to exist anymore, and letter writing will be gone along with it. Mostly due to the fact, that most people (or highly important people) are tree-huggers, and want us to stop wasting paper. Anyhow, so, please, go pick up a newspaper, or a book; enjoy it, cherish it, because, it won’t be around forever. Maybe even subscribe to a publication or go to a library or a bookstore, maybe even sit down an write! Do something! Do anything! But, please, don’t give into what the world is trying to force on us. This is a fight, and paper is losing and it needs your help.
zanyteenager 