The Bucket List by N. Y. (classic books for 11 year olds .txt) 📕

skin brush against me as I lay looking at the sun.

 

I had forgotten how much I missed this.

 

 

The birds chirping, the warm climate.

 

And the nature outside my house.

 

 

I was glad mom and dad chose to buy this house near the woods and hills when I was younger. So I can get a good taste of the wild side.

 

I always loved laying in the grass, just watching the clouds turn. And the sun would be my focal point.

 

 

I breathe in and out, as my fingers trace dirt in the grass.

 

I even missed how dry and dusty the dirt would get under my fingernails. Most people say it's gross.

 

But I think it's beautiful.

 

 

The flowers just below and above me shower in bright colors.

 

Of red and white and a little bit of yellow. Right in the middle of this hill.

 

This was the ultimate spot for anyone in this town to be.

 

 

It's quiet and calm up here, in the backyard of my house.

 

Nothing but the wind.

 

 

Hearing nosies come from inside thw house, and I furrow my eyebrows.

 

I was not expecting to hear anyone stop by.

 

 

Only Aunt Carol is the person who comes in un-announced.

 

But I hear different voices.

 

 

I get up from the ichy ground as I brush off the dirt. I heard the famaliar voices talk into the house. 

 

My eyes open wide.

 

 

They're home.

 

In the Heights

  

The month after Ashley confessed...

 

 

The halls roam with noises as I continued to stare down at my paper.

 

The bad pencil with no good quality scribbles the letters I put down.

 

 

It sharpened well, but bad use.

 

 

I wished I would have bought more pencils, this one sucks.

 

But that's not the other concern I had.

 

 

My hair got in the way most of the time when i'm looking down, but I didn't mind the big bird's nest my head created.

 

 

It was about time within the school year that I make the list I promised myself.

 

I'd probably write down, I need to cut my hair.

 

Better now than later.

 

 

It's only just september here in Lambert, Louisana. But the cold weather hasn't arrived yet.

 

 

The hot weather still blinds us as we come to school. Chilly in the morning, and warm in the afternoon.

 

I hated that about the weather, just how quick it changes overnight.

 

 

My thoughts brew into my fingers as I start to write down the list.

 

I'd had set some goals for myself back then, and I plan on doing it for my last year of middle school.

 

 

Middle School, the word that I dreaded the most.

 

Probably the worst 3 years of anyone's life, it's miserable yet strange.

 

 

#1. Detach yourself from people that only exist when they need something from you.

 

#2. To the people who call you friend, when they ask you for favors, then leave you afterwards. They don't need to show you their sympathy.

 

#3. Life will have less drama if you keep your circle small. You don't have to be friends with anyone.

 

 

Number 3 kind of hit me like a brick, i was kinda right about that.

 

I barely had anyone to talk to. And things were just fine on my own.

 

 

Finally, reaching my locker as i lean on it.

 

I blew the bubble gum I had chewed on the way here, it was already out of the sour strawberry flavor.

 

But I didn't mind.

 

 

I continued to write as the minutes begin to pass before 1st period.

 

#4. Pick the people who share the same interest and radiate the positivity that you have.

 

 

Now number 4, had some tricky things I hadn't written in a long time. I was seeing more of me from that point and day to day.

 

 

But there was probably no one else here that had the same interest as me.

 

Except for Ashley, but our friendship had been long gone since we started going to Bree Woods Middle School.

 

 

I know, and she knows we don't talk anymore. At least like we used to.

 

The 2 minute bell rings and i'm brought back from my thoughts.

 

 

I pace to my first period class.

 

I had a lot of fun in that class, even though there's tons of work and assignments.

 

But it's worth the experience.

 

 

The rush into the classroom as other students do the same nerve-wrecking routine. I slide into my seat just as he walks through the door.

 

The door slams shut and Mr. Elliot turns to us with a stern look.

 

 

''Good morning class.'' he says.

 

''Morning.'' says half of the class.

 

 

I'm one of the kids that were silent in response, the rest had enough energy to talk my ears off.

 

And while they were doing that, I was maintaining myself to a few of my rules.

 

 

I lay my head down as Mr. Elliot sets up his things.

 

My eyes wonder through my thin, thick glasses that shadowed clearly what he was doing.

 

 

''Alright class how was your weekend?'' he finally says.

 

''Good.'' says some students.

 

 

Other kids reply with a nod or just sighed in respond.

 

I however sat up at attention, no words from me as usual.

 

 

But I did have something to say.

 

Like how I was window shopping for a new hobby and I ran into someone who's recently in my interest.

 

 

I wanted to say my weekend was pretty much exciting, in front of the whole class.

 

 

But I was still the same old Alex, the bush haired girl that was kinda odd and unpretentious.

 

Most people didn't even bother to say anything about me, I was worthless.

 

 

But Mr. Elliot didn't think of me that way.

 

He says i'm smart and devoted, but I doubt it.

 

 

''So as we begin class-'' Mr. Elliot starts.

 

The door opens and he's silent, the rest of the students turn to the door.

 

 

Our heads turn left to see who's entering in late.

 

And there she was, just like always.

 

 

5 minutes late to class.

 

 

The same old routine she does.

 

First she'd talk up a storm with her so called friends, then take a drink from the water fountain. 

 

Then she'd lastly come across a teacher that tells her to hurry to class.

 

 

And then she's here, in Mr. Elliot's Social Studies 1st period.

 

 

She walks into the room as if her statement was made. She had been late to this class for about,...I don't even know anymore.

 

I just know she's always late to most of her classes, especially this one.

 

 

I don't know why, or if she's taking up the bad girl root. But she made an entrance every time she stepped foot in this class.

 

One hell of an entrance I might say.

 

 

''You're late Bass.'' Mr. Elliot says flat out.

 

''As always.'' Ashley says passing by him.

 

 

I watch as her figure passes the row of students and she makes her way to the aisle of seats next to mine.

 

Her hot pink jacket glows in front of us as she continues unbothered.

 

 

She was kinda like, fashionable, not many words came out of her mouth.

 

But her style, response and attitude says it all.

 

 

I just kept wondering if I could get inside her head and figure out what she is.

 

Or who she is right now.

 

 

Ashley had been doing this for so long, I had almost forgotten who she is sometimes.

 

But at least I recognized something about Ashley no one else knew, she always changed her looks.

 

And this past week, she dyed her hair again.

 

 

This time she was blonde, a bright bland of the whitest blonde you can think of.

 

But mostly it consisted of some darker gold colors to maintain the rich split ends that mixed in.

 

 

Her eyes shift to take a quick glance at me.

 

I was happy to see I had grabbed her attention.

 

 

I always tried to get her to look at me in this class, and even now this moment is special.

 

 

Usually she'd pass and get to her desk just 2 seats behind, in the row to the right of me.

 

No sign of response, or any type of communication.

 

As always.

 

 

But then over time since school started again in August, just about 2 months back, I realized she's noticing me.

 

 

I was relieved with joy to see we we're finally having a connection again.

 

And slowly class after class. We'd develop a new way to notice each other.

 

 

First, it was Ashley calling out my last name, Carter, then she'd get closer to me without noticing.

 

And so far now, we're making small eye contact.

 

 

But we haven't spoken yet, that's the part that upsets me.

 

I just wished she would have told me what happened when we stopped talking.

 

 

What had I done to upset her, or what she did to end the good friendship we had. But mom said through an email that I need to be patient, and she'll come back to me.

 

 

And that's when I thought up of another rule for me.

 

11 rules to be exact. And I had 4 down now.

 

 

I slowly take out the notebook I had written in this morning.

 

The front cover consisted of stickers and colors of black and white. I liked it that way.

 

 

I flip to the previous page I was on. As I lean my head down behind a classmate in front of me.

 

Mr. Elliot begins to teach class as I write down my idea.

 

 

#5. Never trust telling your stories to anyone. Never.

 

 

It seemed like a pretty good rule to follow, and most people in this school aren't trustworthy.

 

I've heard toxic stories about friendships and relationships in this school.

 

 

Which sums up to why nobody trusts, anybody in this school.

 

Even me.

 

 

''Carter are you writing something down?!'' Mr. Elliot says.

 

 

I look up a little surprised at how long i've spaced out. My head leans up to see everyone quiet and staring at me.

 

 

My eyes shift back to Mr. Elliot who's looking in my direction, everyone's still silent.

 

''We are listening to this story, you are not to be writing.'' he says directly at me.

 

 

I hesitate to speak but my mouth goes dry. I slowly set my pencil down and look away.

 

''Put the notebook away, we're reading.'' he says softly to me.

 

 

I begin to hide myself from the embarassment as I close my notebook and slide it into my backpack beside me.

 

''Right on Mr. Elliot.'' says one boy.

 

 

I'm in utter shock as I try to maintain my stance, I didn't need anyone else to drag me down.

 

And I was an easy target, I get embarassed.

 

 

 

It's like following the rules and then turns out you did it wrong. Mainly because you didn't listen.

 

And La La Land is the official vacation you stop at for a bit, before your temporary hell is brought back.

 

 

And in this case, our temporary hell is school and my life.

 

''Pipe down West.'' Mr. Elliot yells to the boy who spoke.

 

 

He slumps in his chair at the slight embarassment of his last name being called out.

 

Now we're even.

 

 

''Now can you all please pay attention.'' he says to the class.

 

''Yes.'' says everyone.

 

 

Ashley's one of the last people to say it as I hear her voice disappear into the quiet air. 

 

I notice for a second before I listen to Mr. Elliot again.

 

 

He continues on and on about the 1900's and plenty of movies made back then. 

 

It was kind of boring, but fascinating.

 

--

 

The bell rings and everyone gets up from their seats, i'm one of the last kids.

 

The seats the school provided weren't all that great.

 

 

It's hard and cold, and nothing but pencil marks with writings on it.

 

Definitely passed down by other middle schoolers.

 

 

I ease up from my seat and grab my backpack. And just as my hand begins to leave the table, I felt something stick on it.

 

 

I removed myself from the seat quickly and look down to my left hand.

 

 

There was an old piece of bubble gum stuck onto my hand.

 

And of course it had to be pink.

 

 

Then it made me think of the bubble gum wall. Somewhere, I can't remember.

 

I overheard