If anything there is one thing and only one thing that is important to me. Markers! Back then, these were literally my babies. And there was one in specific that I liked, the orange marker. That puppy was mine I don't care if it was Christina's, the booger eater who sat across from me, marker. It was my marker. MINE! Anyways, I always loved drawing! In specific drawing butts! Yeah giggle all you want, but hey, at least I drew some butts, orange butts,heeheehee, unlike some inactive minded children who live in front of the TV instead of expressing themselves on a piece of paper, I guess a butt was how I expressed myself, but that's not the point. I really liked orange markers.
Orenge markers
Orange markers
Orange markers
I will repeatedly say this just to get it through your head.
What's my favorite color you'd say? Hmmm, well considering the fact that I have stated 'ORANGE MARKERS' three times might mean that ORANGE is my favorite color. But, if you think otherwise... You better be scared....
Oh just kidding! Now back on topic(now that I've stopped ranting about orange markers)
On a very exiting school day in the third grade, my teacher, Ms.Matlock, said today we were gonna do an art project. With those two precious words, art project, I knew I had it in the bag, since I was naturally born with an artistic touch. I had a smug look on my face as she past out papers. When suddenly she said.
"Oh, and remember we are not allowed to use markers, only crayons!"
Oh my bajesus, what am I gonna do?
I took rigidness and my eyes got all wide, no markers!
I raised my hand and waited until Ms.Matlock called on me, that's when I hollered loud and proud,
"I will not do this without markeeeers!"
After that all the kids in the room laughed at me and pointed at Estrella, the loser who thinks markers are cool.
What ticked me off even more was that my teacher, MY OWN TEACHER, chuckled a little to herself. With that I slowly shrank in my seat as my cheeks turned red. That's when my bubble formed, slowly making me shyer and shyer...not ever willing to let me express myself.
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That day I went home angry and sad. I didn't eat dinner, watch TV, read, or even draw. Instead I marched in my room with a small plastic bag and threw every single marker I could find.
My mother came from behind me and said,
"Estrella, this has nothing to do with school, right? Does it?"
I returned in a whispery voice,
"W w why did they laugh at me?"
That was the first night in a long time that I had slept very worried, embarrassed, and even a little ashamed.
I was usually really proud of myself. Why wasn't I at that moment?
YOU ARE READING
The Bubble #Wattys2015
HumorIn this novel told in a humorous way. Estrella is growing up in an area filled with questions and doubt. She has formed a bubble to protect her from anything that could hurt her. Sometimes she staying in the bubble and when she's pissed off it can b...
