Narrative Essay About A Beautiful Girl In High School

Have you ever wished that someone had given you a guide on how live the right way? Jamaica Kincaid does just that in her short story, Girl. The narrative is presented as a set of life instructions to a girl by her mother to live properly in Antigua in the 1980’s. While the setting of the story is not expressly stated by the author in the narrative, the reader is able to understand the culture for which Girl was written.

It was the year 2008, I had just graduated from St. Michael’s School located in Los Angeles, CA. This year was quite exhilarating for me also scary because I was going to attend an all-girls high school. Los Angeles was my birth place also a place where I called home. One day, I came home to hearing my parents talking about moving to Mississippi. I remained devastated, not only we were moving to the south, I’m moving away from childhood friends. I was worried I wouldn’t see them again and I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to make new friends in Mississippi.

Now it was time to say goodbye to the house, and move back to California where most of the family were at. When I moved to California I moved to Salinas at the time I was in 3rd grade at a school called Kamman. My favorite teacher was my 3rd grade teacher her name was Mrs. Vierra she was a nice lady. My least favorite teacher was Mrs. Cunov she got frustrated at us really easily, and picked her nose right in front of us it was gross. In 5th grade I had a teacher named Mr. Spencer he was my favorite male teacher because he was the man that taught the class to make paper airplanes. It was fun because it made class so much more interesting. In the beginning of the year I attended at Kamman then a few weeks later I moved to Monterey where I attended the rest of middle school at the Monterey Bay Charter

All types of horror films are designed to unfold our most horrible fears and insecurities that lie deep within. It successfully focuses on the bizarre and illicit side of life that frights us by playing around our nightmares, vulnerability, and fears of the indefinite. However, despite how chaotic and terrifying these films are, the horror-genre still attracts and repel us. We crave to see the numerous film villains overtake our nightmares and then be defeated by a particular “Final Girl” who normally places society back to its stagnant normality.

The girl was sweating hard, the others were too. They each felt as if they had run a marathon, they were out of breath and tired. The girl kept moving, twisting her leg into an unnatural position and reaching her arms farther than she thought possible, she twirled just as the woman had taught them, then she dropped to her knees and put her hands in a prayer position, using her toes she hopped back up and glided to the front of the stage where she knew she would be directly in the woman's line of sight. She waited for the queue and on the downbeat she bowed and then leaping into the air, she spinned a full three sixty and when she landed she put her face down and made sure her hands were back in the notorious prayer position. When she brought her head up and looked at the woman, the look she saw made her heart sink into her stomach, she knew what the woman was about say, but she prayed

“No, Gabriel, we have to get our bags packed, today's the day,” Said Josie. I sat up noticing the monumental amount of light that was pouring into my room through my window. A few minutes later, I decided that I was ready to get out of my bed. While I was getting up, I quickly realized that I wasn’t ready; I got up anyway. My bones were aching worse than a two day old flu shot, and my head spinning quicker than a hurricane. Once I was ready to go downstairs, I picked up a blanket lying on the floor, I then wrapped it around my half naked body, and I walked out of my bedroom and down the stairs I headed.

It has been a couple days since her close friend, Holly, disappeared from the streets. Stan, their pimp, also disappeared around the time that she went missing. The police don't care about prostitutes unless they want sex with them to 'release stress'. Selina grew tired of waiting for the police to do their job and put on her catsuit again. She just got word that one of Stan's prostitute was somewhere in Gotham and she didn't have a clue where she was. Selina got finished putting on the suit as he grabbed her mask and grinned as she begun to say, "It's time from me to get answers.". She put on the mask and opened the window as she exited out of it.

“Girl” written by Jamaica Kincaid is an unusual text that depicts a mоther’s list оf rules that her daughter must fоllоw in оrder tо be accepted in sоciety. after reading this narrative fоr the first time, I read it as a resistant, I had nо idea what culture, time periоd оr what the true meaning behind this list was. I did, hоwever, knоw that it had sоme link tо hоw a wоman has tо behave.

The night when Violet took me out for an adventure will be a night I can’t forget. I was 17 at the time. I had shaggy brown hair that curled at the end, with grey eyes that looked intimidating, often at times. The thing that bugged most adults was the fact that I chose to have my ears stretched, saying I’d regret it in the long run, me being me, I thought bullshit.

I met Anna when I met everyone else, second grade. She wasn’t as tough as she is now. She greeted me with a soft and sweet hello. I definitely was not used to have a girl as a friend. I was one of the people that I hate now. I didn’t think girls could play sports or like cars. If any of the guys catch someone saying something like that, we stop them, and then we explain girls can do anything she puts her mind to.

Everyday I swam laps around a pond and did anything I could to seem cool as long as I was in her view. Sheila Mant that is she is the most beautiful girl ever she is in a big family she is the middle daughter she is older than me. I am only fourteen and she is seventeen but I have had such a big crush on her for a long time. It was a great day and I was watching stalking shelia from the forest and she was playing baseball. I yelled something as I left the forest as i started towards her, I approached Sheila on a summer afternoon and asked her if she had a date to the dance. She said no so I asked if she wanted to go with me. She thought for a minute and said sure. I said I would pick her up later in canoe.

When I was around Katie, high school was a breeze, because I had all the friends I could ask for. Although, they were my friends for probably the same reason I was Katie’s friend; popularity. Our high school was huge, and filled with two stories of classrooms, halls, and lockers that held over 3,000 students among the four grades. I would easily get lost. Even though the school was big and full of kids, making friends was the hardest part ever. Katie and I would watch other kids who did not have friends and talk about them behind their backs, and sometimes even to their face.

Well I’m not really sure how to start something like this. I wish I could write something as simple as “I love playing my didgeridoo so much I just couldn’t imagine my life without it!” But my only talent here is faking who I was all throughout high school and my important life altering interest is girls. I could make this a cute story: Once upon a time, there was a little high school sophomore girl who pretended not to be gay and her whole life came crashing down all around her. However, this isn’t a cute story. You see, I had a bright future in front of me freshman year; I had amazing grades, I was popular, I even had a super cute boyfriend that everyone was so jealous of. The summer going into sophomore year, something didn’t feel right. I’m not sure how

My name is Sandy Collins, I’m your typical teenage girl. I like going out with my friends, having slumber parties, and going shopping. I moved from Texas to New York City a month and a half ago. The moment I stepped out of the car I instantly loved the change. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy living in Texas, but now living in New York felt like it made much more sense.

As I see her anxiously walk into the classroom, she goes directly into the back to sit down at one of the tables. Never seen before, she is quite intriguing with long dirty-blonde hair that swayed over her shoulders, hiding behind her glasses staring down at a piece of paper to avoid facing the stares that allure to her.