Once, in a small city that some people would classify as a “hick town” a baby was born. Her name was Sophie Lily Blackburn. She didn’t cry but puckered her little face and squeezed her eyes shut.
Nine minutes later another baby came screaming into the world. “Twins?!” the mother screamed. “Nobody said I’d have twins!”
This loud, screaming, smiley baby would be known as Nicole Charlotte Blackburn.
This is her story.
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I spent a lot of my childhood in timeout. Like, way more than I’d like to admit. Whenever I look at the old scrapbooks that my mom made (she actually wrote the captions, not even typed) there are probably a dozen pictures of me sitting on a small brightly colored chair with my nose in the corner.
I was a trouble-maker, in short. I was usually climbing everything in sight or whacking the crud out of my sister. I’m also told I developed a soda addiction at a young age. I might have been a trouble-maker but I didn’t cause any of my mother’s gray hairs. Believe it or not I could still be pleasant. I like to tell people that I was the happy twin. In all the 0-3 year old pictures Sophie is frowning, crying, or just blank-faced and I am smiling. I guess Sophie was more pictures shy.
The years went by. Kindergarten came and went; nothing fantastic there. When first grade rolled I discovered that I was a first class teacher’s pet and tattle tale. I was a total kiss up. I could be seen going up to my teacher going, “Do you need any help?”
Kids hated me. Well, OK, some liked me but I was sure to have at least one enemy in every grade. Teachers loved me though. Let’s just say, I was not in the position to learn any lessons.
The next grades were the same. I had friends, sure, but I was still quite annoying.
Then came sixth grade. A new school was built near my house. It was close enough to walk. Gone were the days of riding the bus. Half of me was sad another half was relieved. I spent the beginning of my long days of walking to and from school in a nostalgic stupor, then it faded.
Seventh grade was fantastic. I had been ready to ditch elementary school; the specialties, having one teacher, pencil boxes, recess, all the stuff that I had come to love and hate. Middle school was both terrifying and awesome. I grew to hate some teachers, like others. I got mostly good grades, made some friends. Surprisingly I made no enemies. I had learned it was better to be the in between gray peacemaker than choose sides.
But seventh grade isn't what I want to talk about. I want to talk about where I am now... eighth grade. That is where my story truly begins; where I am now. And I hope you, dear reader, will enjoy the ride.
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Authors Note:
Hey Readers!
While I was writing this chapter I figured out I really don't care to relive my childhood and I don't remember enough and it would be plain weird to have a chapter like this:
"Goo goo ga ga." I say, jabbing my mom's face.
"Aren't you just the cutests thing that ever roamed the planet!" My mom replied gently prying my hand off her face.
I figured I was doing you a favor by not writing that and instead writing a beginning with a strange style.
Also this story is quite closely based off my life but it also has a smattering of fictional elements. So for those of you who know me on a personal basis (sadly Prince William is not included in that category) will probably be able to find yourself--under a different name of course--a character in my little story. Enjoy! Be sure to vote and comment. :D
Sincerely,
browneyedgirl18
