I Am I 'm About My Life

“ I was going to ask you to the dance, if you didn’t get enough courage to ask me!” she said with a smirk.

“Wow, she's talkative, you got a good one this time, cuz.” His voice was grinding on me and all I wanted to do was smack him.

So basically this is supposed to be about my life, which it will be but it consists only of my friends, ringette, and school. So you could say that it isn’t a life you’d want but it’s what I have. On May 8th 2001, I was born in Airdrie, super special right? Yeah must be if people in my family foget it every year, at least it’s only my aunt. At about 4 years old I started to skate and play ringette. Obviously I go to school too and this year I’m starting grade nine. This is my autobiography, I guess.

When I rang the doorbell at 8:45 AM, Julie Faulk came down the stairs and opened the door, letting me know that we were the earliest in the office. The steep, carpeted stairs lead me up into Bitch’s lending library

All I had on my mind was that my little brother was falsely accused of vandalism. When I woke up and went to school the following morning, I immediately got called to the office. There I found Branden, Bryson, and Jack. They are football players that cause a lot of trouble . As soon as I walked in, Jack said; “Jake did it and you know it.” Me, knowing this wasn’t true, raised my voice and replied, “You’re a liar and don’t be accusing my brother of something you didn’t know he did! You and your friends probably did it!” At that point, the principal and resource officer pulled the three boys into the office. Soon after, another officer walked in the door. “Emiley, come with me please.” he said. Once we walked into his office, he had the tapes pulled up from that Friday night. “Which one is Jake?” he asked. I replied, “Jake isn’t in it.” While watching the tapes, I saw a blonde haired girl, she reminded me of Anna. I asked the officer, “Who’s that girl?” and he replied “I can’t tell you, is there any reason your brother might’ve done this? Vandalism may be an act of revenge, a way of expressing a political opinion, or a means of intimidation.” At this point, I was so annoyed I got up and walked out. As I left, I walked past the football players as they snickered and laughed. While I was walking back to class, my phone vibrated. My mom texted me saying, Your dad and I are on our way to

“I just want to get the hell out of here,” I replied with an enormous amount of

She smiled. “The book you brought me helped me realize who I am, and how much I hate Nova,” she said, angrily. Ash started laughing. “What? I thought Nova was your enemy too,” she said, confused.

My knees shivered as I walked up the huge steps onto the bus. Millions of things were running through my mind; I was nervous. There was a loud chatter throughout the bus, but it wasn’t normal chatter. Everyone was on a light edge as we were all more than aware about what we were about to face. The bus pulled up into a familiar area. Elsternwick was busy and the sun was bright. I personally am always in Elsternwick and I never knew the museum was

I signed back to her with playful motions, “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Could you yell a little louder?”

The tall, slender woman prowled in the dark, suburbs of New York city. Her curiosity filled amber eyes glistened through the black night. You could hear the soft scratching sounds of her long, feline nails scraping along the tall brick wall. The pads of her heels patter against the pavement, deep, dark, and almost inaudible. She slinks through the small crack of the broken fence to enter in the secret meeting lair.

Amile smirked, “So it’s we now?” I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Nancy Drew, I’d love to have lunch with you.” I felt the blood rush to my face and had to turn

I had no idea what I had gotten myself into when I signed that dotted line. I stared out of the bus’s window, stomach in knots afraid she would catch me looking. I decided to put my head back down into my green laundry bag and take a nap. “Maybe it would be as bad as I think it will be,” I said to myself trying to calm my nerves. I was wrong.

«l was thinking about the day you called to tell me you had it,“ Seen an ad for a property on Michigan Ave." He mentioned sitting baq and meeting her eyes. "You were so thrill because the property was facing one of the busiest streets in Chicago, The Magnificent Mile. It Would bring in customers from all walks of life. I came by the same day to check it out with you, and then we stopped by the leasing office to Sign the lease.” He remembered all the details of the day, her excitement still so clear in his mind. She had found the place where

I was really enjoying planning my trip back to the Motherland. In fact, that enjoyment grew exponentially once you expressed your desire to join. Then when you moved past the “I’m just tagging along” phase and contributed ideas I likely would not have even stumbled upon, I was ecstatic that this journey would be a reflection of both of us. As excited as I am to return to Russia, truly my favorite part of the past several weeks has been getting to know you better and growing closer.

We sat on a cheap wooden bench in the security room in the back of Lord and Taylor, our bags lay on their sides, the contents spilled across the concrete floor. Little white tags hung from the fabric, a few seams were noticeably ripped along the side ribbing of the clothing. Computer screens encompassed the room, the surveillance footage rotated intermittently from Camera 1 to Camera 2 to Dressing Room Camera. The man’s voice was barely audible through the wall behind me, as he called my parents and the authorities. He came back into the room with the woman who had grabbed my arm as I exited the department store, announcing that the price for all of the products I had stolen totaled to approximately $1,300 – though he hadn’t calculated in the damages of the torn clothing where the security buttons were ripped out. My best friend, better known as my fellow thief, called her mom to retrieve us. I used the thick silence of that car ride to prepare something mitigating to say to my mother. When I delicately, respectfully, quietly entered the foyer, my mom sat waiting, drilling me with questions. As I entered the foyer, my mom, who had been undoubtedly stewing in her own thoughts as she awaited my arrival, drilled me with questions. Why would you do this? Because it’s fun. Who made you do this? As if I can’t make my own decisions and fuck up my life on my own. How long has this been going on? I told her once before but in reality it had been going on for a while. WHY? Why not?