I enter my classroom, and sit down at my usual seat. Taking off my backpack, I begin to wonder about what today's rumor will be. Being in a small school, the students always need something to keep their minds busy. One kid will make something up, another will repeat it, someone will overhear, and before you know it- you have a rumor!
Last week, Mason Brown told his friend Kevin about a sasquatch sighting at one of my friend's houses. It was lunch time, and we, as always, ate in our classroom. The school was raising money to build a cafeteria, but still hadn't reached the goal.
"Then the beast turned on the house, ran at it with long, wild strides, and, as I heard, it ate her cat! Didn't it, Susan?" he looked expectantly at her, as did everyone else in the classroom. I looked at her, surprised. Of course I didn't believe it, but why would he ask her if he knew she'd just say no?
Susan looked at me for a moment, and then turned back to Mason. "Yes, it did." she sighed, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. "I didn't have enough time to save her, and... I feel so bad."
The kids began chattering nervously, and saying things such as, 'So there's a bigfoot on the loose?' and, 'I can't believe it!' and even, 'Maybe we can form a group and hunt it down!' I turned to Susan, confused. "Why did you say that?" I whispered to her. She had shrugged, and said in a hushed, mysterious voice, "How do you know that it didn't?" I raised an eyebrow, and she finally laughed, and said, "Alright, alright. I didn't happen. But, if we pretend that it did, It'll give the boys something to talk about so they'll leave the rest of us alone!"
Now, sitting at my desk, I reach into my desk for my journal. I write in it before class starts each day, and give a prediction for how I think it will turn out. Each day I give the first adjective that comes to my mind, and then, at the end of the day, I write the adjective that really described what happened. It may sound silly, but it gives me something to look forward to: Seeing how close I get to the correct word!
The write the date, and then the first adjective that I think of.
May 13th, 2016
Mysterious
This is when my teacher, Ms. Jennings, enters the classroom. Most of the students have arrived, including Susan. She's talking to her twin brother, Charley. I close my notebook, and sit back in my seat. Ms. Jennings is young and pretty, with short blonde hair and green eyes. Susan looks a lot like her, but she has long black hair instead.
"Good morning, class. How was everyone's weekend?" Ms. Jennings said, sitting down at her desk and setting her bag upon it.
As always, everyone says, "Good." Altogether we all sound rather dull, probably because it's a Monday. On Fridays, though, we all sound rather please with ourselves for living a whole new week in school. I don't think school is bad at all, except for pop quizzes. Those are never fun if I forget to study, but most of the time I do- and then it isn't bad at all.
I am one of the smartest, most cheerful and curious children in Ms. Jenning's eight grade class, and I do believe that she has a soft spot for me. I'm not a 'teacher's pet' as some people say, but I think that she at least appreciates my hard work and effort.
"Today, we're going to start out by reading your reports. Who would like to go first!" Many moans come from the back of the room, and I assume that some(if not most) of the kids have forgotten that our reports are due today.
Though I, of course, am prepared. My hand shoots straight up into the air, and Ms. Jennings says in her sweet, kind voice, "Claire! Come one up and read your report, dear." I take my report out of my blue folder (blue is my favorite color, and I keep everything that's important in it) and walk to the front of the classroom. I have overcome any stage fright I have ever had, and I now enjoy standing in the spotlight. "As you all know," I begin, looking over the crowd of students. Many kids are taking out papers, either to take notes to use in the future, or to write their reports. Of this I'm not sure, but I continue. "My foster father is a scientist. He studies biology, and so, in honor of him, I have decided to write about biology."
YOU ARE READING
The Lighthouse Keeper
Romance"Well, why DO you want me here?" He sits back in his seat, and takes a breath as if trying to figure out how to tell me something. He finally says, "I'm lonely here in the lighthouse. And even though there's and unlock button, it only lets others in...
