BINNNG! BINNNG! I roll over in bed to turn off my alarm clock. I yawn and rub my eyes. Another day full of nothing but the same old things that happen every day of my life.
My room is a lovely shade of baby blue, with light green carpet and a pink bed. Sure, my room is nice, but my parents are not. My parents decorated my room when I was eight years old, and they didn't even ask me what colors I wanted. Now I'm twelve and they treat me the same way. Oh well, I guess there's nothing I can do about that, I think.
I look over at my door and notice the wheelchair. "What the," I start to say. But then I remember the whole fiasco that happened at the nurse's office yesterday afternoon. Apparently I was having a bad dream during the day, but my eyes were open. Stupid teachers took me to the nurse's office as though I'd been knocked unconscious. Oh well, it's over now I guess.
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After a quick breakfast of overcooked oatmeal, I head off to the bus. Same old bus ride. The stubborn bus driver where whenever you ask him a question he almost panics and screams. So I just stay quite.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Just bring me to school! Twenty minutes. Twenty five minutes. I hop off the bus and walk brusquely into the brick school building. I immediately crash into Jenna Brownfield, my archenemy.
"OOF!" we say as we collide.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" Jenna screams.
"Oh, uh, sorry Jenna," I reply back shyly.
I continue walking, hoping to convince everybody that it didn't happen, even though it was in plain sight and everyone saw it. I am so clumsy, I think to myself.
My school is the most boring school ever. It's the place where I'm stuck every day. If my parents were nicer maybe they would move me to a private school without me having to get expelled. But that put a thought into my head. What if I tried to get expelled? But would that be worth it just to go to a private school? No, probably not.
Oh, right, getting off topic. Boring school. Okay, so my school is a long brick building with a few windows along the bottom. The inside of the school has plastic floors like the kinds you see in office buildings. The walls are brick just like the outside of the school, but instead they are covered in a bunch of posters about not bullying.
I personally think that the posters about bullying make people want to bully more. They want to disobey the teachers, so this is the perfect excuse. And sadly I am a subject to bullying.
"Hello Ashlyn," says a familiar voice.
"Good morning, Mr. Bell," I say politely.
"I hope you're ready for that test, Ashlyn."
"Uh, yeah, I think," I reply uncertainly, because, well, I'm not sure that I can not fail the test. I've failed every test in my life, soooo.
Mr. Bell leads me into his classroom, all set up for the test. Students are already set up at the desks. I'm the last one into the room, even though I'm not late at all. These guys were just early.
"Ashlyn's so lazy! Ashlyn's so lazy!" the class starts chanting.
"Uh, guys, I'm not late," I say defensively.
"I'm on time but you guys were early."
The class stays silent. Whatever, I think. The more silent the better.
I sit down at my desk and look at the many sheets of paper in front of me. I pick it up and count the pages. Let's see. One. Two. Three. For. Five. FIVE pages! FIVE! I can't even do one page let alone five!
"Is something wrong, Ashlyn?" Mr. Bell asks.
"No, I'm fine," I lie.
"Well, your time begins now," I hear Mr. Bell say, almost as though he doesn't want the students to know.
Okay, okay. What makes the sky blue? The first question. Something to do with the sun's rotation and Earth's atmosphere, I guess. Who was the first person up in space? Uh, uh, I don't know that one! I start to panic. But a voice in my head tells me not to panic just because I didn't know one question.
I keep filling out pages and pages of the stuff until I feel like I can do it no more. I can't take it.
"Mr. Bell, can I go to the bathroom?" I ask.
"Absolutely not," Mr. Bell says calmly.
Well there goes that plan, I think.
Just focus on doing your test, just focus on doing your test, I repeat silently to myself. I look over at the other students. Some have finished already but I'm only on page three. I start to panic again. Don't panic, don't panic, I say silently.
More questions. I answer about half of them. For myself that's great, but for someone else, not so great. My writing is so terribly small when I do tests. I don't know why that happens. It just does somehow. I sigh. Two more pages. Tick tock tick tock goes the clock. One more page.
"Well, everyone, you should have finished now, so I will take your tests over here, even if you have not finished," Mr. Bell says, directing the last part at me.
I sink back into my chair. Stupid teachers! I think.
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"So how was school, little, honey bunny?" my mom says in a fake sweet voice.
She can't fool me. I know her real sweet voice from her fake sweet voice. It's not every day that I can hear her real sweet voice, but I know what it sounds like.
"Terrible," I reply.
"I got a D on my science test," I say miserably.
"But, Ashlyn you can do better than that," my mom says, starting to turn red.
"But Mom, I can't!" I yell.
"Oh, I think you can," my mom says evilly.
"To your room for two days."
"WHAT?!" I say, utterly shocked.
Sure, my mom has sent me to my room before, but usually only for an hour or two. Not two DAYS. Two HOURS. Parents are getting crazier by the minute. Grumbling, I march off to my room.
I notice that the wheelchair is not behind my door anymore. My mom must have put it in the garage. I shut my door and put a chair behind it (our doors have no locks). Then I reach underneath my bed and pull out my iPad. I got my iPad as a present from my grandpa, but my mom didn't approve. She was going to take this thing to the dump, but she forgot, and I stole it and hid it under my bed.
I open my favorite app: Candy Crush. After a few minutes of playing that, I just sit down on my bed. I don't know what to do here in my room. Unlike many kids about my age, my room has no toys. All I have in my room is a desk, my iPad, and bed. Literally.
But soon I just start daydreaming again. I don't know what I'm daydreaming either. Just, I don't know, like, happy things.
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War of the Emberstar (Unfinished)
FantasyMy name is Ashlyn and I'm your average 12 year old girl. My life is pretty boring, honestly, and I can't even think about being a hero. But one day a mysterious man dressed in black rings my doorbell. But a great apocalypse is also brewing, and the...