Forever Strong: Stories of Friednship, Love, and Change

Forever Strong: Stories of Friendship Love and Change

BAILEY

You know that feeling when everyone in the room is waiting for the same thing to happen, and you can practically taste the tension in the air? Like, the moment right before the stores open up on Black Friday, and everyone is outside eye-balling one another, as if every person within their field of vision is a threat? That's what the minute before the bells ring in Lincoln Academy signaling the dismissal of the 500 students and faculty feels like. Everyone's eyes, including the teacher's, are glued to the clock ticking agonizingly slow with every passing second. I'm no exception to this phenomenon. My entire body can sense the release awaiting in the next few seconds. It feels like it will combust at any moment unless the clock hurries. Ten seconds. The rush of adrenaline fills my veins, ready to be released. In three, two, one.

At the sound of the bell, the class dismissed as if the building was on fire. Everyone darted out of the room in a split second. I, on the other hand, decided to linger around the room for a second longer. It's crazy to think that in another year I won't be here. The moments I've shared with some of my friends in this room are going to be the meories I'll carry with me for my entire life. Everything abuot this classroom is so familiar. The way the seats are arranged. The way the light flows in from the windows lining the wall. It will be difficult saying good-bye to my friends, but I push the though out of my mind more and more every day.

It's hard to believe that all of the time, and the memories we shared are going to end in a year. Taking a glance out of the window, I remember the time we first met. Right under the big oak tree, on the first day I transferred schools. Since then the five of us have been inseparable.

"Miss Binsley? Why are you not with the rest of your classmates?'

"Oh, Mr. Bradford I was just reminiscing in the past I guess. There's a lot of memories in this room," I reply to my most adored English teacher.

"Ah, I see."

His kind d eyes always have put me at ease. He has been like a father to me from day one.

"Miss Binsley, you do want to apply to the journalism curriculum for next year, right?"

Looking back at him I'm taken aback by his question. Ever since the first day, I have dreamed of being accepted into the rigorous curriculum.

"Of course, why? Is there a problem?"

"No. No problem. I simply wanted to give you a heads up, and forewarn you about the amount of work it requires."

"Oh, yes sir. I have heard it is a lot of work and effort. I am also more than prepared to put in all of the time I have to succeed."

Again, he smiles a fatherly smile, "That's the spirit of a journalist I saw from the start, Miss Binsley. Which is why I have chosen you as Senior Editor for the Lincoln Journal next year."

My eyes light up as if there has been a fire set in my head as I say, "Mr. Bradford, thank you so much."

"No need for a thank you young lady, you've worked extremely hard to be the best, and I felt you are the obvious choice. Also, there is a catch."

"Which is?"

"Over summer break, I need three stories for the first edition. One must be personal, another about world events, and another about the school's history. All of the stories must be 3 pages long at minimum. I also need you to recruit more journalist and editors and so on. Is it clear?"

"Yes, sir. It seems simple enough."

"Good. I shall see you again a week before school begins to review your work. Have a nice break, Miss Binsley."