Making the Team
It was a full out war between two sides. One side attacking and the other defending. As Bob went up to fight a grenade was thrown at him. He tried to hit it away but he missed. The guy behind Bob threw the grenade back to the guy who threw it. It happened again for a second time. Bob tried to hit it away one last time but he still missed.
“Strike three! Your out!” Bob heard someone yell
If this keeps happening I’ll never make the all-star team. So far this season I have gone 0-10. That isn’t good and it’s half way through the season. He knew that he would never make the team. No madder what he would never make the team. Bob knew he shouldn’t give up that easily. In order to get better he needed to practice. But
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The bus reached his stop after what felt like an interminable bus ride
“It's about time!” Bob said to himself, as he sighed in relief standing up.
He rushed off the bus and ran home as if he was being chased. He had made it, he was finally home.
“How was school?” His mother asked, watching him dropping everything on the floor.
“Good, can’t talk now.” Bob said, as he picked up everything he dropped on the floor.
“Do you have any homework?”His mom asked sitting behind the laptop.
“No.”
“Did you check?”As she looked over at him.
“No.”
“I’m going to see if you have any.”
“You do that .”
He grabbed his glove and a baseball and ran outside. Bob was going so fast that he almost ran into the door.
“Oh yah, I forgot that there is something that opens called a door.” Bob mumbled feeling stupid.
Bob then opened the door and walked through. Once he got outside he started to pelt the tall, wide wall with the baseball he had grabbed. Right after he started throwing the ball against the wall, his mother came outside.
“It's a good thing that I checked if you had any homework.” Bob's mother said.
“Why is that?” Bob asked.
“Because you do have homework.” Bob’s mother replied. “ Get inside and finish your homework.”
“Fine.” Bob said.
Bob knew that there would be something that would hinder his practice. Bob followed his mother to the computer.
“I thought you said you had no homework?” His
To build a fire was about a man looking for a new life willing to risk it all to find one and that's
About an hour and a half passed when he saw that he was heading toward a familiar supply store. It was the first sign that he was getting closer to his uncle’s houes. He quickened his step and finally was about 5 yards away when he heard an angry shout come from the closed front door of the store.
“Oh. That’s kind of what I did. I stole stuff.” It was getting dark by the second because Bob could see out the window.
All of a sudden, there was a noise coming from another locker. This time, the boy heard it behind him. The b oy turned around and saw nothing except a blank, meaningless wall that is facing him.
"Enough about work you two!" his mother snapped. "Let's talk about something more befitting on Max's day off."
Taking a chance he opens the door, peaking out to plan the quickest route to the door. There’s no one about, meaning his mother had hopefully fled the scene. Quickly he does the same, slipping through the small gap he’s created and rushing across the small flat towards the door, opening it and closing it quietly behind him.
“Anything that can help us find out who did this.” I said, examining the crime scene. I walked towards what used to be the glass case that held the crown, but was now a useless, shattered cube.
Ding Dong. Billy’s mother went to go check who was at the door. It was Bob.
“Oh right!” Ivan looked up, ignoring Gilbert and Roderich’s fighting. “Feliks gave me some of your things back today.” He grabbed the bag, searching through it.
He opened the door and no one was there. He was scared to ask but he thought it was the ghost of Lenore. So, he asked if it was her. Then a sound came back and said
This time the store owner had called the police. Roxy had shoplifted from his establishment before but I had always been able to fix it; most times by paying double the price. Peering through the faceted glass of my front door, I could see Mr. Pachenko pacing the brick-edged sidewalk, his face pale with anger. With his blood pressure, the bright red spots on his cheeks would be with him for the rest of the night.
“How was work?” Mom asks casually. Dad does not answer. I notice he didn’t walk into the kitchen like he normally does.
“ We were all arrogant and wrong about you. I’m sorry I ever judged you and I hope we can be friends one day,” said Alissa, the girl who tripped me.
In a moment he was out of the door and they were after him. Too amazed and frightened to speak,
Bill kept kicking and screaming in hope that someone would find him.All of a sudden, the door creaked