Dear Readers,
The following is what happened to me yesterday.
I was sitting in the cafeteria, quietly eating my lunch, a whole bunch of thoughts whirling around my head--cross-country, Mor, the dude in the trench coat..... really, list went on and on.
And then, all of a sudden, my worst fears were revealed.
Maya had that gleam on her face. That was the first immediate notion that this was not going to be good. Especially since she was gleaming right towards me. She stood up on the table, and her friends whipped out the hair dryer again.
"Everyone!" she yelled dramatically.
Everybody turned to look at Maya. Some of them had pure fear on their faces. I wondered what on earth was going to happen.
"Jessie," she started, "is a..."
I don't know how it happened. I don't even know how it got in there! But all of a sudden a bumblebee came into the cafeteria and landed right on Maya's nose. She hadn't even noticed. Just as she said "a", it got frightened, and......
"YEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" Maya's screams will forever echo in my memory. As a good memory? I'll never tell. I wasn't too eager to hear what she was going to say I was.
The second after the sting, Maya's nose grew huge and bright red. She looked like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. After somebody suggested THAT, the idea took right off!
"Jessie!!!!" she shrieked, as if it was all my fault.
She stumbled off the tabletop and over to where I was sitting. I wouldn't have expected her to be strong, but she gripped the front of my shirt in a grip of iron and wrenched me out of my seat. I was sure I was going to get punched when all of a sudden Maya was flying off me.
There was Noah and his football buddies, coming to my rescue. Oh, great. This was going to be Michael Hall's great new story. Stink.
"Thanks, guys," I grinned.
"You'll pay for this!" screamed Maya.
Should I be scared? Probably not. ;)
Love,
Jessie
Friday, August 24, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Bumblebee and Nose--got that?
I have a really good idea for the Jessie Bender story. If I totally forget it tomorrow, I'm counting on you guys! Just remember the words "bumblebee" and "nose", OK? Thanks!
~Storyteller
~Storyteller
The Crook or the Creeper?
Dear Readers,
I was going to go and write a huge article on Michael and the Gooseberry Warehouses, but Josh said I couldn't. I'm afraid that my mom agree. Urgh. It would've been great. I was going to go and name it, "The Crook or the Creeper?". Doesn't that sound like a good title? I thought so, too.
So Mom's convinced that she's going to get me to run cross country. So the other day she went and took me to a meet. She'd gone off to talk with everybody, so I was just standing there, bored out of my brains as I waited for the races to start.
Noah wasn't there, obviously; nobody I knew was there. Of course football (Noah's sport) and cross country happen at the same time. So of course I wouldn't have seen Noah there. I just wished he'd been there, because I was seriously bored out of my brains.
I couldn't help but notice this one kid with shorter sandy blonde hair and darting eyes standing by one of the tables. I frowned. What was he so nervous about? I'd studied enough people to know that he was nervous.
Then I noticed something. He was turned inward. He kept on glancing over his shoulder, as if he expected somebody was going to grab his shoulder any second. I looked behind him. In the near distance I saw a suspicious-looking man in a gray trench coat and fedora. Out of place? You've got to be joking. This guy looked like he thought he was Sherlock Holmes-modern.
I sighed. I didn't want to get mixed up in a mystery. But then again, I was dramatic, crazy Jessie. I might as well figure out what on earth was going on! Besides, I felt bad for the kid. I knew that from his uniform he had to be from one of the teams. His colors spoke of the Treyton Knights.
"Hey, my name's Jessie Bender." I held out my hand.
The boy looked at me in surprise. "Mor Banks."
"Mor?" I repeated.
"It's for Morris," he shrugged. "But I hate that name. So my friends call me Mor."
"Are you OK?" I whispered.
He gave me a look.
"You just seem nervous," I shrugged. "Do you need any help? My mom's here. I'm sure she could help you, if you needed anything."
"I'm fine." He looked over his shoulder again.
"Sure?" I asked.
He shrugged.
I sighed. "OK. But if you need help......" I trailed off as I walked away.
For the rest of the day, I watched the weird dude in the trench coat. He kept on sending glances over at Mor. Then it was time for Mor's race. I watched them set off. The man in the trench coat did, too. I didn't like that man. He flipped a cell phone out of his pocket and spoke just a few words.
I'd taught myself lipsinking. Horror built up in my heart as I read his lips.
There were only two. "Get him." And then he flipped the phone shut.
I tried to tell myself to relax. The kids were coming back, crossing the finishing line rapidly. And then, finally, everybody had gotten back. I'd made sure to count everybody. There was only one person missing.
Mor.
Everybody waited uneasily. He didn't come back.
I sighed. Oh, bother!
And so I ran. Up the hill. And beyond. And I couldn't find him.
So after I'd told Mom and she told the sheriff who'd started a search for him, we set off home.
Was that guy in the trench coat a crook?
Or was Mor a creeper?
Love,
Jessie
I was going to go and write a huge article on Michael and the Gooseberry Warehouses, but Josh said I couldn't. I'm afraid that my mom agree. Urgh. It would've been great. I was going to go and name it, "The Crook or the Creeper?". Doesn't that sound like a good title? I thought so, too.
So Mom's convinced that she's going to get me to run cross country. So the other day she went and took me to a meet. She'd gone off to talk with everybody, so I was just standing there, bored out of my brains as I waited for the races to start.
Noah wasn't there, obviously; nobody I knew was there. Of course football (Noah's sport) and cross country happen at the same time. So of course I wouldn't have seen Noah there. I just wished he'd been there, because I was seriously bored out of my brains.
I couldn't help but notice this one kid with shorter sandy blonde hair and darting eyes standing by one of the tables. I frowned. What was he so nervous about? I'd studied enough people to know that he was nervous.
Then I noticed something. He was turned inward. He kept on glancing over his shoulder, as if he expected somebody was going to grab his shoulder any second. I looked behind him. In the near distance I saw a suspicious-looking man in a gray trench coat and fedora. Out of place? You've got to be joking. This guy looked like he thought he was Sherlock Holmes-modern.
I sighed. I didn't want to get mixed up in a mystery. But then again, I was dramatic, crazy Jessie. I might as well figure out what on earth was going on! Besides, I felt bad for the kid. I knew that from his uniform he had to be from one of the teams. His colors spoke of the Treyton Knights.
"Hey, my name's Jessie Bender." I held out my hand.
The boy looked at me in surprise. "Mor Banks."
"Mor?" I repeated.
"It's for Morris," he shrugged. "But I hate that name. So my friends call me Mor."
"Are you OK?" I whispered.
He gave me a look.
"You just seem nervous," I shrugged. "Do you need any help? My mom's here. I'm sure she could help you, if you needed anything."
"I'm fine." He looked over his shoulder again.
"Sure?" I asked.
He shrugged.
I sighed. "OK. But if you need help......" I trailed off as I walked away.
For the rest of the day, I watched the weird dude in the trench coat. He kept on sending glances over at Mor. Then it was time for Mor's race. I watched them set off. The man in the trench coat did, too. I didn't like that man. He flipped a cell phone out of his pocket and spoke just a few words.
I'd taught myself lipsinking. Horror built up in my heart as I read his lips.
There were only two. "Get him." And then he flipped the phone shut.
I tried to tell myself to relax. The kids were coming back, crossing the finishing line rapidly. And then, finally, everybody had gotten back. I'd made sure to count everybody. There was only one person missing.
Mor.
Everybody waited uneasily. He didn't come back.
I sighed. Oh, bother!
And so I ran. Up the hill. And beyond. And I couldn't find him.
So after I'd told Mom and she told the sheriff who'd started a search for him, we set off home.
Was that guy in the trench coat a crook?
Or was Mor a creeper?
Love,
Jessie
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Warehouse Mishap
Dear Readers,
OK, so I admit it--right now I'm writing this in my closet. Why? Simple. Listen to what just happened to me.
So I come to school and stop over by the newspaper. I was just finishing up my article--Bio-Chaotic Brawl!!--and was about to get off to class when I hear somebody walking up behind me. Using my peripherals, I saw that it was Josh. I wasn't sure what to make of his expression.
"I'm giving you a new partner in the newspaper," he announced.
I turned around and gave him my The Look. "Josh, I've never even had a partner in this newspaper. How can I have a new one?"
"That's not the point," he said. "I'm sorry." He paused, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to have to pair you with Michael."
Pause. Then, "WHAT?!"
"Look, Jessie, just listen to me!" Josh urged. "It's not my fault. He specifically asked for you over having to be paired with Maya."
"Maya's joined, too?!" Why was everything bad happening to me? And how come I wasn't being told of all the bad stuff?!
"Yes, I'm afraid so!" Josh snapped. He leaned forward, hissing, "And I'd suggest that you hurry up and compose yourself because here comes Mr. Hall himself at this very moment!" And with that Josh turned on his heel and headed for the door.
As the bell jingled on the newspaper's door, I quickly hid behind my laptop's screen. Maybe we could convince him that somebody else had the name Jessie Bender. Yeah, that'd be a good idea. Great idea, in fact.
"Hey, Jessie." I heard the thump of a laptop being placed on the table. The kid obviously had a lot of money, because otherwise he wouldn't have been plunking the ultra-awesome laptop so carelessly on the table. Seriously, rich kids don't know what they have.
"Hey," I muttered.
Anyway, I won't record all of the small talk that Michael managed to force out of me (that was "managed"). Finally, he took in a deep breath and said, "Jessie, I have something that I need some help with."
"What?" I queried suspiciously.
"I think that there could be a big story--a REALLY big story--that's just waiting to be uncovered," Michael admitted. "Over by the warehouses. I've been staking out there on my own, and things aren't as they should be."
"You've been TRESPASSING!?" I burst. Seriously, I couldn't help it. "That's like...like...like trespassing!!!"
"Yeah, well...." he shrugged it off. "Anyway, we've seriously got to find it out!"
"It's school," I pointed out. "Let's just go to our classes."
All through school, though, he kept on sending me looks. We were in the middle of English class when the kid that I sat next to, a kid named Toby Ryan, tried to shove a note underneath my arm. I simply took it from him and handed it to the next kid--a girl by the name of Matilda Swanson who's been in love with Michael ever since like forever.
The look on her face alerted the teacher who promptly came up to her desk and snatched the note.
"And what's this?" she asked accusingly, glaring at Matilda. Our teacher strode to the front of the room and then opened the note, reading the following, "'We need to meet tonight. It could be our only chance.'" Her eyebrow lifted in horror, and then she looked towards Michael. "It's says it's signed by you, Michael. Please tell me I'm wrong."
She wasn't. And so he had to stay late after school.
My house is just on the outskirts of Dayton, a pretty place with a rundown old barn that I suppose used to have horses with a field fenced in by wooden fencing. The field is of all tall, green grass. It's my favorite place in the world, especially with all of the trees bordering the fence. Sometimes I wonder what's in that forest.
Anyway, so I was in that field, doing some homework--it's one of my favorite spots--when all of a sudden I feel myself getting hit in the forehead by an acorn. (I found the acorn in my lap, which was why I knew what I'd been hit by). I glanced around suspiciously, and then saw a telltale bike parked by the road.
There was no mistaking it. It was Michael Hall's.
"Michael, you'd better leave!" I yelled.
No answer. Then.....
"We have to check out the warehouse."
"NO!" I answered firmly.
"Fine!" he yelled back from the trees. "Then I'll do it on my own." I watched him run out of the forest, grab his bike, and go pedaling off down the road.
So, what did I do? Well, I think it's rather obvious. I went back to the house and told my mom. She quickly phoned Michael's parents, who agreed that we'd all meet each other at the warehouse to pick up and, if necessary, look for him.
"That kid's trouble," Mom muttered to herself as we buckled up our seatbelts and revved off down the road.
We arrived at the warehouses--Gooseberry Warehouses--that bordered the Dayton River. Really, when I think of rivers, I think of something pretty. Dayton river is so full of pollution that parents are horrified to catch their kids swimming in it.
We met up with Michael's parents--the dad looking like a football player the mom being able to convince people she was a super model--and we both came up with the same conclusion--he was no where in sight.
"We'd better go and talk to the manager," sighed Mrs. Hall.
"But that's the point!" pointed out Mr. Hall. "This place is closed. It's been closed for over forty years. There isn't a manager."
This wasn't going well.
"Come on," I urged. "Let's just call the police, get a search warrant, and go and look for Michael."
"But isn't it public property?" wondered Mom. "Can't we just go in? Do we really have to involve the police? I think we have enough people here already."
"I'll check into it," suggested Mr. Hall.
He was only his cell phone for about a half an hour and then he turned to us. "Anybody's allowed on the property. It's just locked so that there won't be any vandalism."
"So if we can find a way in, then we're all right?" I questioned in surprise.
Mr. Hall shrugged. "I guess so."
That would be easy.
A few minutes later, I'd found the way that Michael had found in. There was a broken part in the wall that was covered by bushes. But if you pushed the bushes back, the opening was quite obvious. Mom, the Halls, and I all crouched on our knees and went through.
"We should split up," suggested Mr. Hall. "Myself and Marie could take this way, and you two can go that way." He pointed opposite ways.
"OK," Mom consented.
The Halls took off and Mom and I started towards a door in the side of one of the warehouses. The faded words announcing the name of the warehouses stood on the side. I guessed this must've been one of the main warehouses.
"Just in case something happens," started Mom, "here's your dad's phone. I snatched it just before we left." She entrusted the sleek device to the mercy of my pockets.
We found that the door was open and went inside. The room was far from empty, as I'd supposed it would be. Inside were thousands of crates. Just looking at it I felt lost.
"And, no, we're not going to separate," Mom snorted, as if reading my scared thoughts. "We're going to stay together. This isn't some kind of weird mystery novel. This is real life and we're going to be smart." Her eyes surveyed the jungle of crates. "Let's try this way, first."
All of a sudden we heard voices. Both of us froze, and Mom beckoned silently for me to come behind a pile of crates. I followed her lead, wondering why were hiding. I guess she knew better, though. And my first instinct was to hide.
The murmuring became louder and then suddenly they were voices, speaking, and I could hear footsteps as the people came closer.
"The shipment should arrive tonight," one of them said. "Remember, nobody's to know about it."
"Right," nodded the other.
There were only two, I could see that now.
They continued to go about this weird shipment. And then walked off. Mom sent me a look, and then she just stood up. It was the most stupid thing I would've ever thought to do.
"Sirs!" she called after them.
They turned suddenly. I was sure that they'd have machine guns in their hands that they'd shoot her down. Thankfully, I didn't hear anything like that.
"Ma'am, what are you doing here?" one of them asked.
"We're looking for a missing child," she admitted. "Have you seen him? He's about five feet seven inches, dark blonde hair, pretty short, I guess, with darker eyes, pretty good looking, I'd say. Anyway, he's thirteen. Have you seen him?"
"No," they admitted.
"Excuse me," Mom continued. "What is this shipment that you're talking about?"
Oh dear, Mom. I hope you know what you're doing!
As it turns out--and we did check this out--one of the men was the son of the original owner of the warehouses. He was going to take possession of the property again and make it into a public rollerblade rink. How bizarre is that?
The men even wanted us to check them out just to make sure. James Gooseberry and his friend Terrance Mornly walked us back to the front, where the Halls were waiting, having already found Michael.
Still, the idea chills me. What if they hadn't been bad? That's why I'm in my closet. The idea that the guys could've been terrorists or something...... I shiver to think of it!!
Bye!!!! Maybe I won't have such a crazy story next time. ;) Tell me what you guys think!!
Love,
Jessie
OK, so I admit it--right now I'm writing this in my closet. Why? Simple. Listen to what just happened to me.
So I come to school and stop over by the newspaper. I was just finishing up my article--Bio-Chaotic Brawl!!--and was about to get off to class when I hear somebody walking up behind me. Using my peripherals, I saw that it was Josh. I wasn't sure what to make of his expression.
"I'm giving you a new partner in the newspaper," he announced.
I turned around and gave him my The Look. "Josh, I've never even had a partner in this newspaper. How can I have a new one?"
"That's not the point," he said. "I'm sorry." He paused, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to have to pair you with Michael."
Pause. Then, "WHAT?!"
"Look, Jessie, just listen to me!" Josh urged. "It's not my fault. He specifically asked for you over having to be paired with Maya."
"Maya's joined, too?!" Why was everything bad happening to me? And how come I wasn't being told of all the bad stuff?!
"Yes, I'm afraid so!" Josh snapped. He leaned forward, hissing, "And I'd suggest that you hurry up and compose yourself because here comes Mr. Hall himself at this very moment!" And with that Josh turned on his heel and headed for the door.
As the bell jingled on the newspaper's door, I quickly hid behind my laptop's screen. Maybe we could convince him that somebody else had the name Jessie Bender. Yeah, that'd be a good idea. Great idea, in fact.
"Hey, Jessie." I heard the thump of a laptop being placed on the table. The kid obviously had a lot of money, because otherwise he wouldn't have been plunking the ultra-awesome laptop so carelessly on the table. Seriously, rich kids don't know what they have.
"Hey," I muttered.
Anyway, I won't record all of the small talk that Michael managed to force out of me (that was "managed"). Finally, he took in a deep breath and said, "Jessie, I have something that I need some help with."
"What?" I queried suspiciously.
"I think that there could be a big story--a REALLY big story--that's just waiting to be uncovered," Michael admitted. "Over by the warehouses. I've been staking out there on my own, and things aren't as they should be."
"You've been TRESPASSING!?" I burst. Seriously, I couldn't help it. "That's like...like...like trespassing!!!"
"Yeah, well...." he shrugged it off. "Anyway, we've seriously got to find it out!"
"It's school," I pointed out. "Let's just go to our classes."
All through school, though, he kept on sending me looks. We were in the middle of English class when the kid that I sat next to, a kid named Toby Ryan, tried to shove a note underneath my arm. I simply took it from him and handed it to the next kid--a girl by the name of Matilda Swanson who's been in love with Michael ever since like forever.
The look on her face alerted the teacher who promptly came up to her desk and snatched the note.
"And what's this?" she asked accusingly, glaring at Matilda. Our teacher strode to the front of the room and then opened the note, reading the following, "'We need to meet tonight. It could be our only chance.'" Her eyebrow lifted in horror, and then she looked towards Michael. "It's says it's signed by you, Michael. Please tell me I'm wrong."
She wasn't. And so he had to stay late after school.
My house is just on the outskirts of Dayton, a pretty place with a rundown old barn that I suppose used to have horses with a field fenced in by wooden fencing. The field is of all tall, green grass. It's my favorite place in the world, especially with all of the trees bordering the fence. Sometimes I wonder what's in that forest.
Anyway, so I was in that field, doing some homework--it's one of my favorite spots--when all of a sudden I feel myself getting hit in the forehead by an acorn. (I found the acorn in my lap, which was why I knew what I'd been hit by). I glanced around suspiciously, and then saw a telltale bike parked by the road.
There was no mistaking it. It was Michael Hall's.
"Michael, you'd better leave!" I yelled.
No answer. Then.....
"We have to check out the warehouse."
"NO!" I answered firmly.
"Fine!" he yelled back from the trees. "Then I'll do it on my own." I watched him run out of the forest, grab his bike, and go pedaling off down the road.
So, what did I do? Well, I think it's rather obvious. I went back to the house and told my mom. She quickly phoned Michael's parents, who agreed that we'd all meet each other at the warehouse to pick up and, if necessary, look for him.
"That kid's trouble," Mom muttered to herself as we buckled up our seatbelts and revved off down the road.
We arrived at the warehouses--Gooseberry Warehouses--that bordered the Dayton River. Really, when I think of rivers, I think of something pretty. Dayton river is so full of pollution that parents are horrified to catch their kids swimming in it.
We met up with Michael's parents--the dad looking like a football player the mom being able to convince people she was a super model--and we both came up with the same conclusion--he was no where in sight.
"We'd better go and talk to the manager," sighed Mrs. Hall.
"But that's the point!" pointed out Mr. Hall. "This place is closed. It's been closed for over forty years. There isn't a manager."
This wasn't going well.
"Come on," I urged. "Let's just call the police, get a search warrant, and go and look for Michael."
"But isn't it public property?" wondered Mom. "Can't we just go in? Do we really have to involve the police? I think we have enough people here already."
"I'll check into it," suggested Mr. Hall.
He was only his cell phone for about a half an hour and then he turned to us. "Anybody's allowed on the property. It's just locked so that there won't be any vandalism."
"So if we can find a way in, then we're all right?" I questioned in surprise.
Mr. Hall shrugged. "I guess so."
That would be easy.
A few minutes later, I'd found the way that Michael had found in. There was a broken part in the wall that was covered by bushes. But if you pushed the bushes back, the opening was quite obvious. Mom, the Halls, and I all crouched on our knees and went through.
"We should split up," suggested Mr. Hall. "Myself and Marie could take this way, and you two can go that way." He pointed opposite ways.
"OK," Mom consented.
The Halls took off and Mom and I started towards a door in the side of one of the warehouses. The faded words announcing the name of the warehouses stood on the side. I guessed this must've been one of the main warehouses.
"Just in case something happens," started Mom, "here's your dad's phone. I snatched it just before we left." She entrusted the sleek device to the mercy of my pockets.
We found that the door was open and went inside. The room was far from empty, as I'd supposed it would be. Inside were thousands of crates. Just looking at it I felt lost.
"And, no, we're not going to separate," Mom snorted, as if reading my scared thoughts. "We're going to stay together. This isn't some kind of weird mystery novel. This is real life and we're going to be smart." Her eyes surveyed the jungle of crates. "Let's try this way, first."
All of a sudden we heard voices. Both of us froze, and Mom beckoned silently for me to come behind a pile of crates. I followed her lead, wondering why were hiding. I guess she knew better, though. And my first instinct was to hide.
The murmuring became louder and then suddenly they were voices, speaking, and I could hear footsteps as the people came closer.
"The shipment should arrive tonight," one of them said. "Remember, nobody's to know about it."
"Right," nodded the other.
There were only two, I could see that now.
They continued to go about this weird shipment. And then walked off. Mom sent me a look, and then she just stood up. It was the most stupid thing I would've ever thought to do.
"Sirs!" she called after them.
They turned suddenly. I was sure that they'd have machine guns in their hands that they'd shoot her down. Thankfully, I didn't hear anything like that.
"Ma'am, what are you doing here?" one of them asked.
"We're looking for a missing child," she admitted. "Have you seen him? He's about five feet seven inches, dark blonde hair, pretty short, I guess, with darker eyes, pretty good looking, I'd say. Anyway, he's thirteen. Have you seen him?"
"No," they admitted.
"Excuse me," Mom continued. "What is this shipment that you're talking about?"
Oh dear, Mom. I hope you know what you're doing!
As it turns out--and we did check this out--one of the men was the son of the original owner of the warehouses. He was going to take possession of the property again and make it into a public rollerblade rink. How bizarre is that?
The men even wanted us to check them out just to make sure. James Gooseberry and his friend Terrance Mornly walked us back to the front, where the Halls were waiting, having already found Michael.
Still, the idea chills me. What if they hadn't been bad? That's why I'm in my closet. The idea that the guys could've been terrorists or something...... I shiver to think of it!!
Bye!!!! Maybe I won't have such a crazy story next time. ;) Tell me what you guys think!!
Love,
Jessie
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Bio-Chaotic Brawl!!
Dear Readers,
Yes. It is I. Jessie Bender. I'm back!! I hope you guys aren't like "oh, man, her again??". =D I've decided to share a newspaper article of mine that I wrote for our school newspaper. Of course there'll be more, but this is how I've decided to start my letter. :)
Bio-Chaotic Brawl!
There has always been a sense of humanity and personal space between the children of Dayton Middle School. But this week that has crashed down to the ground with a violent spaghetti fight in the cafeteria, which was quickly taken care of our by our esteemed principal, Mr. Watson. What will happen next? Are we even safe in the hallways of our own beloved school? Will Dayton ever be the same?
So, what do you guys think? I thought it was pretty good. The leader of our newspaper, an eighth grader named Josh, thought it was pretty much hilarious (I'm not sure why. It's a very serious subject).
That's when Josh revealed a very disturbing thing.
Michael Hall, the most popular kid in the seventh grade, is joining the newspaper. Problem? I say yes! He's a jerk! OK, OK--I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called him a jerk. But, really.... What am I going to do?
Bye!!
Love,
Jessie
P.S. Do you guys have any suggestions about what I should do with Michael joining the newspaper?
Yes. It is I. Jessie Bender. I'm back!! I hope you guys aren't like "oh, man, her again??". =D I've decided to share a newspaper article of mine that I wrote for our school newspaper. Of course there'll be more, but this is how I've decided to start my letter. :)
Bio-Chaotic Brawl!
There has always been a sense of humanity and personal space between the children of Dayton Middle School. But this week that has crashed down to the ground with a violent spaghetti fight in the cafeteria, which was quickly taken care of our by our esteemed principal, Mr. Watson. What will happen next? Are we even safe in the hallways of our own beloved school? Will Dayton ever be the same?
So, what do you guys think? I thought it was pretty good. The leader of our newspaper, an eighth grader named Josh, thought it was pretty much hilarious (I'm not sure why. It's a very serious subject).
That's when Josh revealed a very disturbing thing.
Michael Hall, the most popular kid in the seventh grade, is joining the newspaper. Problem? I say yes! He's a jerk! OK, OK--I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called him a jerk. But, really.... What am I going to do?
Bye!!
Love,
Jessie
P.S. Do you guys have any suggestions about what I should do with Michael joining the newspaper?
Charming, Friendly, Funny, and Spunky
Note: if you get one of the following awards, drag only YOUR award off.
Note: You will only have one award to award other people by.
Note: only award one person, and award the person who you thinks fits most with the description.
Note: you do not have to answer the questions if you feel they are going into your privacy zone and you don't want to reveal that thing about yourself.
Yes. I have, yet again, created more blog awards!! But what is different about these awards? I shall award four people--four people only--and they shall each get a different, all-their-own award. And what are these awards, their rules, and their meanings? Look below!
Note: You will only have one award to award other people by.
Note: only award one person, and award the person who you thinks fits most with the description.
Note: you do not have to answer the questions if you feel they are going into your privacy zone and you don't want to reveal that thing about yourself.
Yes. I have, yet again, created more blog awards!! But what is different about these awards? I shall award four people--four people only--and they shall each get a different, all-their-own award. And what are these awards, their rules, and their meanings? Look below!
Charming.
The Charming Person is a person whose charm is evident in everywhere they go—in
their blog posts, their replies, and their comments. They are always gracious
and thinking of others.
Charming person rules:
1. Thank the person who gave you the award and leave a link to all of their blogs.
2. What about yourself do you think is charming?
3. What is your favorite thing about the person who gave you the award?
4. Nominate 1 person for this award. No tag backs. I.E=one person gives this to, say, somebody named Sally. Sally cannot retag the person, but the person who Sally gives the award to and reaward the person who gave it to Sally.
5. Make up five questions for your people to answer.
M y questions:
1) What is your favorite activity?
2) What do you think of when you think of yourself?
3) What is your favorite season?
4) How old do you think I am?
5) In what kind of a house do you think I live?
Friendly.
The Friendly Person is always out there, have a general feeling of happiness
about them wherever they add things in. They like to make sure that everybody
they follow gets to have comments from them, and tries to include everyone.
Friendly person rules:
1. Thank the person who gave you the award and leave a link to all of their blogs.
2. What do you think is friendly about yourself?
3. What do you think of the person who gave you this award?
4. Nominate 1 person. Charming tag-back rule applys.
5. Make up five questions for the next person to answer.
My questions:
1) Where is your favorite place?
2) What is your favorite food?
3) What is your favorite thing to do on blogger?
4) Why did you get a blog?
5) What do you think I look like? (hair, eyes, etc.)
Funny.
The Funny Person is always making witty comments and saying things that make
others laugh. They are there to make sure that everybody else is having a good
time in general.
Funny person rules:
1. Thank the person who gave you the award and leave links to all of their blogs.
2. What about yourself do you think is funny?
3. What do you think of the person who gave you this award?
4. Nominate 1 person. Rules apply.
5. Make up five questions for the next person to answer.
My questions:
1) What is your favorite flower?
2) What is your favorite breakfast item?
3) What is/was your favorite subject in school?
4) What is/was your favorite age?
5) If you could go back in time, what time period would you go back to?
Spunky.
The Spunky Person is always out there, going out into new, unknown blogs, and
leaving comments wherever they go. They are bold and courageous and love
meeting new people.
Spunky person rules:
1. Thank the person who gave you the award and leave links to all of their blogs.
2. What about yourself do you think is spunky?
3. What do you think of the person who gave you this award?
4. Nominate 1 person. Retag rules apply. (as this continues on, just copy and paste the rules from the Charming Person)
5. Make up five questions for the next person to answer.
My questions:
1) If you could have a super-hero ability, what would it be?
2) If you could go into a magical world, what world would you go into?
3) If you could do something great or live normally, what would you choose?
4) What is your favorite personality type?
5) If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
And now the question comes down to this--who are you?? OK, here are who I award for this award............
Charming--Piano Bookworm
Friendly--Jess
Funny--Madeline May
Spunky--Otter Days
If you do not display your award on your blog after the next two days, your award will be given to someone else. :(
Bye!!
~Storyteller
Monday, August 20, 2012
Spaghetti Fight!
Dear Readers,
Hello! It's Jessie again. Yes, the crazy girl who's already sent you a letter. =D Here are some very important things that I forgot to tell you about myself last time I wrote a letter--they're so important that I feel stupid not remember them!
So here they are: I'm a Christian through and through (I know, right?! How could I forget that?!?!). I'm known almost everywhere as "dramatic, crazy Jessie". It's a fun nickname!! I try to live up to it, lol. =D
OK, so I just had to tell you about this, because it was pretty much hilarious.
So yesterday in school, there was this new girl named Lulu Harper (being crazy also means that you walk up to everybody new and make sure you get their names, ages, and grades). The cafeteria was full as we all crowded around to get lunch which--to my excitement!!--was spaghetti.
"I love this stuff!" I announced to Noah as I watched the cook lady shovel it onto my plate. I frowned. "Could you put a little more on?"
"Jessie," he laughed, "you're crazy."
I grinned. "I'm dramatic, crazy Jessie. Remember?"
He only rolled his eyes. Of course. He hates spaghetti.
Anyways, so Noah and I had just sat down when all of a sudden, the most popular, snobby girl in the entire school, a girl by the name of Maya Henderson, stood up on one of the tables, blonde hair billowing dramatically (I mean, seriously--the blow dryer handled by her best friend Savannah was a little over-the-top).
"Lulu Harper is....." she paused dramatically. "A FREAK!"
Everybody laughed their heads off. She continued. It was so mean that I've decided not to record it in this letter to you guys.
Lulu, I could tell, was furious. Since school had started a few days back, she'd already made a few friends--mostly Maya's most hated enemies, Sara, Josephine, and Addy. They were all whispering to each other, their brows in frown lines. Finally, Lulu stood up on the table, a big glop of spaghetti in her hands. Sara, Josephine, and Addy flanked her.
"Spaghetti fightttttttttt!" Lulu yelled, throwing it smack-dab into Maya's face.
So that's how the biggest fight of Dayton Middle School started. Thankfully, I had my newspaper camera there, and I was getting some great pics when all of a sudden a felt myself getting whapped right in the stomach. I nearly dropped the camera but managed to maintain hold. I turned, glaring, and saw that it was Noah.
"That's it!" I declared.
I entrusted my trusty camera to some girls hiding underneath the tables, rolled up my sleeves, grabbed a big glop of spaghetti and sent it flying right towards Noah's face. You would've thought I'd played baseball or softball or something, because it hit him dead-on. I was going to send another down his shirt when I saw him coming for me.
I shrieked, grabbed my camera, and high-tailed out of there. Not to soon, either. Right after that Principal Watson had everybody else still in there with spaghetti all over themselves (except for the crying girls) clean up the whole place.
So, yeah, that was my day. ;)
Bye!!
Love,
Jessie
Hello! It's Jessie again. Yes, the crazy girl who's already sent you a letter. =D Here are some very important things that I forgot to tell you about myself last time I wrote a letter--they're so important that I feel stupid not remember them!
So here they are: I'm a Christian through and through (I know, right?! How could I forget that?!?!). I'm known almost everywhere as "dramatic, crazy Jessie". It's a fun nickname!! I try to live up to it, lol. =D
OK, so I just had to tell you about this, because it was pretty much hilarious.
So yesterday in school, there was this new girl named Lulu Harper (being crazy also means that you walk up to everybody new and make sure you get their names, ages, and grades). The cafeteria was full as we all crowded around to get lunch which--to my excitement!!--was spaghetti.
"I love this stuff!" I announced to Noah as I watched the cook lady shovel it onto my plate. I frowned. "Could you put a little more on?"
"Jessie," he laughed, "you're crazy."
I grinned. "I'm dramatic, crazy Jessie. Remember?"
He only rolled his eyes. Of course. He hates spaghetti.
Anyways, so Noah and I had just sat down when all of a sudden, the most popular, snobby girl in the entire school, a girl by the name of Maya Henderson, stood up on one of the tables, blonde hair billowing dramatically (I mean, seriously--the blow dryer handled by her best friend Savannah was a little over-the-top).
"Lulu Harper is....." she paused dramatically. "A FREAK!"
Everybody laughed their heads off. She continued. It was so mean that I've decided not to record it in this letter to you guys.
Lulu, I could tell, was furious. Since school had started a few days back, she'd already made a few friends--mostly Maya's most hated enemies, Sara, Josephine, and Addy. They were all whispering to each other, their brows in frown lines. Finally, Lulu stood up on the table, a big glop of spaghetti in her hands. Sara, Josephine, and Addy flanked her.
"Spaghetti fightttttttttt!" Lulu yelled, throwing it smack-dab into Maya's face.
So that's how the biggest fight of Dayton Middle School started. Thankfully, I had my newspaper camera there, and I was getting some great pics when all of a sudden a felt myself getting whapped right in the stomach. I nearly dropped the camera but managed to maintain hold. I turned, glaring, and saw that it was Noah.
"That's it!" I declared.
I entrusted my trusty camera to some girls hiding underneath the tables, rolled up my sleeves, grabbed a big glop of spaghetti and sent it flying right towards Noah's face. You would've thought I'd played baseball or softball or something, because it hit him dead-on. I was going to send another down his shirt when I saw him coming for me.
I shrieked, grabbed my camera, and high-tailed out of there. Not to soon, either. Right after that Principal Watson had everybody else still in there with spaghetti all over themselves (except for the crying girls) clean up the whole place.
So, yeah, that was my day. ;)
Bye!!
Love,
Jessie
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