Written

Dear Journal

Dear Journal,

My name’s Maya Monroe. I have been given this journal to be written in over the summer because I flunked English, and I don’t want to take summer school. It wasn’t my fault I failed! Sometimes I just didn’t know where my assignments went, and if I lose this journal, I’m toast. Will Mrs. Hunter read my journal out load to my entire 8th grade class next year? Will all of my private secrets be presented to all of my friends? There’s so much to worry about all because of a stupid letter. Couldn’t “F” stand for Fabulous instead of Fail? If that was true, I would have F’s in every subject, because I’m all that. Okay, Mrs. Hunter is kind of staring at me. And now she’s coming over to my desk, probably looking to see if I wrote anything, and soon she’s going to realize I’ve only gone on a mega rant about school! ------

Today is the last day of school, and so much happened. The school day started out pretty normal, the usual blast of flaming hot sun and no clouds in the sky at all. The only thing I could see when I looked up, was a stretch of blue nothingness. A group of people were gathered around in a huge circle, probably signing yearbooks, so I walk over to the group of people, being the outgoing person I am, and ask them all to sign my yearbook. The crowd opens like the Red Sea, and a ray of golden light literally shines down on Austin Christensen, this popular guy who everybody likes. He’s not my type though. His hair is golden brown, and his eyes are the color of green peacock feathers. Just because he’s not my type, doesn’t mean I don’t like him, too. Maybe I do like him. A little... SO he’s all like, “Hey, Mia, right?” and I shook my head because you know, my name’s Maya. “It’s Maya. Do you want to sign my yearbook?” I asked like a dork, and he probably sensed my inner cringe, and he took my yearbook and started to write in it with his Austin Christensen pen. I’m not kidding; he has his own line of office supplies. Why? You may ask. I guess his dad owns a supply company or something. I don’t know. Then he tapes a pink Austin pen into the pocket to store photos and stuff on my yearbook. “Have a peachy day!” he laughed. I almost died. Seriously, so guy pushed me right when I was leaving, and of course, just my luck to be right by open lockers, and closed lockers for that matter. I guess I was knocked out and lost some blood because I woke up in the nurse’s office two hours later. With head bandages on my head, covering my skull. Austin was just sitting there. Crying. When he found out I was awake, he ran over and started crying by me telling me, “It was all my fault,” and, “I could have stopped it,” and probably an “I’m sorry” and stuff. Everything was so confusing though, because the nurse told me I had a slight concussion and I would be confused for another hour or two. But know I’m back here, in Mrs. Hunter’s 7th grade English class, which is the class I will be taking next year, just the 8th grade version. Yay me.

-Maya