Sandpaper. I had always thought sandpaper was obnoxious. It took forever. Created heat that burned the hands. Was uncomfortable and not worth the trouble. But when I got home after Chanel’s that day, I found sandpaper and carefully sanded down my staff. I made it smooth, slick and perfect. When I was done, it was… Continue reading By the Crack of Thunder
Tag: Glare
Home
Aimes was reading. Her piece was about heartbreak and pain. It was about loss, and the way a girl could be thrown away and forgotten. Aimes was probably my best friend. We had been friends since the first day of seventh grade, when she came to the bus after school, shell-shocked and dazed. We had… Continue reading Home
Unbridled
“Fuck the intercom,” Brett read. He had needed something to read at Group. This was what he had come up with. “Fuck the fucking intercom.” It used to interrupt us with announcements all the time in the middle of a reading. “Fuck the fucking, fucking intercom.” Mrs. Bronte erupted. “This is not appropriate for this… Continue reading Unbridled
Glare
There were two groups. Mine and Glare’s. He drew people to him and held them. I know he talked about me a lot. He spoke on my faults and railed about what a horror I was. But always there was a respect between us. Glare was perfect. A sinister side of my coin. He was… Continue reading Glare
Nemesis
We left Writers Club that first day and piled in with Harvard. Careful took the front seat. She was Harvard’s, and we all knew her a queen. The rest of us, Walleye, Chanel, Glare, and I, scrunched into the back seat. First, food—Harvard was buying—then Wal-Mart. This was back when the store had a soul,… Continue reading Nemesis
Writers Club
“Is she going to be there?” I asked Chanel as I walked through the halls. She looked up at me and smiled. “She will be. Jammy will be there. They will all be there, even the ones that haven’t met you before. Writers Club will be a full house.” She hugged me and walked away.… Continue reading Writers Club
