Remembering Sunday

Remembering Sunday

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Dec 30, 2012
I could hear the pitter-patter of my converse's sole's beating the cracked and wet cemented walkway. My breathing was quick and fast, my heart beating hard, and rough, as I strode in a long and quick pace. My backpack slapped my back, making me wince and groan in agony. I took a quick look behind my shoulder, I sighed in relief when I didn't see my crazy mother running behind me. I stopped in an alley and slid down the back of the wet brick building. The cold drops of rain pelted my face, dripping down my chin and onto my soaked clothes. I shivered before bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I rested my head on my knees and sobbed. I needed to get away. I couldn't take all of this pain. I needed...help...
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I sat in my first period english class, my teacher grading papers or whatever it is that teachers do when you walk in. Soon the first bell rung, and people filed in. The usual suspects, the nerds, the cool kids, the "we hate liz" kids, and so on and so forth. But Imagine my surprise when I see a kid with blonde straighted hair, and an under cut roll in. And I mean that literally, he rolled in, in a pair of healies. I couldn't take my eyes off this peculiar specicimine. A woman from the office handed my teacher a note, who then attended her attention to the odd looking boy standing behind her. "What's your name?" She smiled. "Jaimie." The boy smiled right back.

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