~Selena Cullen~
New member
Ok, I just posted thtis story on another site, and someone said "You write like an immature, childish, fool. You have terrible spelling, grammar, etc. Mmk. Byee" That's exactly what they said. And it hurt me really bad. Now, I am only 13 years old, and yes their are going to be grammar and spelling mistakes, it is a rough draft! But, please, I want to know if this person was just being rude, or if I actually am a bad writer (which I believe there is no such thing as a bad writer). So, please tell me what you think. Thanks.
So here I am with my mother, waiting in the too small lobby to fit all the students and adults that are here to pick up their school schedules for the upcoming year. Slowly, student by student we filed into the gymnasium where the scheules were distributed. Through the double doors we went, most of the students grouchy because it's noon right now...and still the summer. Most of us were used to sleeping in until at least noon. Finally, we were in the much larger gym compared to the lobby and were directed to the rows of newish gray bleachers that they had pulled out from the wall. I imagine the janitor was unhappy with the small chore, as he is of all chores, if I remeber correctly from my previous year. Mr. White, the grumpy, mean, old, and immensely overweight janitor who would yell, glare, and maybe even give you a hard nudge...or soft push....if you dare get in his way.
My mother, with her hair extra frizzy hair because of the humidity, and I sat in the second row. I searched for any of my friends, nervous alone, until my eyes found Mandy. Mandy Norman. One of my best friends in the until world...or in the entire seventh grade. She was sitting in the front row with her mom. Identical to one another. The same straight as a pin blonde hair, the same blue-gray eyes that were absentmindedly looking around, the same long, lean, skinny bodies, the same veiny yet beautiful pale skin. I almost sprung out of my seat and ran over with a squeal to greet her. We had seen much of each other over the summer, what with being on the same volleyball and softball teams. But those seasons have been over for a while. So, it was nice to see her for a change.
"So...how's your summer been...other than the tortuous sports you had to play with me." I said jokingly with a genuine smile.
She didn't look so happy to respond. "Other than getting up at...like...eleven today...okay I guess." Mandy said with a yawn..
I called my mom over with a wave, telling her to come join us. Silently, she grabbed her old-I-have-had-this-for-ages purse and hopped over and around people over to us.
The squeak of the microphone quieted the crowd. The principal gave a few light taps in the mike and cleared his throat.
"Ok, I think we are ready to begin the process of getting schedules to all the students," M r. Logan said in his raspy voice, full of faux authority. See, Mr. Logan was the principal...technically. But the real authority figure was Mr. Parley, the Vice Principal. He was the one who would call the absolute, outright, toughest kids in the entire school to the office with them smiling, and let them leave crying like a little baby. It was actually quite a funny sight.
"Can we have last names beginning with A-F come get there schedules at the first desk?" Mr. Logan said in a somewhat shaky voice, trying to act like who had everything under control.
He found out he was wrong when about a fourth of the students darted out of the air in perfect unison and rushed over, crowding the desk. Some of them were so eager as to nearly knock him out of their way.
So here I am with my mother, waiting in the too small lobby to fit all the students and adults that are here to pick up their school schedules for the upcoming year. Slowly, student by student we filed into the gymnasium where the scheules were distributed. Through the double doors we went, most of the students grouchy because it's noon right now...and still the summer. Most of us were used to sleeping in until at least noon. Finally, we were in the much larger gym compared to the lobby and were directed to the rows of newish gray bleachers that they had pulled out from the wall. I imagine the janitor was unhappy with the small chore, as he is of all chores, if I remeber correctly from my previous year. Mr. White, the grumpy, mean, old, and immensely overweight janitor who would yell, glare, and maybe even give you a hard nudge...or soft push....if you dare get in his way.
My mother, with her hair extra frizzy hair because of the humidity, and I sat in the second row. I searched for any of my friends, nervous alone, until my eyes found Mandy. Mandy Norman. One of my best friends in the until world...or in the entire seventh grade. She was sitting in the front row with her mom. Identical to one another. The same straight as a pin blonde hair, the same blue-gray eyes that were absentmindedly looking around, the same long, lean, skinny bodies, the same veiny yet beautiful pale skin. I almost sprung out of my seat and ran over with a squeal to greet her. We had seen much of each other over the summer, what with being on the same volleyball and softball teams. But those seasons have been over for a while. So, it was nice to see her for a change.
"So...how's your summer been...other than the tortuous sports you had to play with me." I said jokingly with a genuine smile.
She didn't look so happy to respond. "Other than getting up at...like...eleven today...okay I guess." Mandy said with a yawn..
I called my mom over with a wave, telling her to come join us. Silently, she grabbed her old-I-have-had-this-for-ages purse and hopped over and around people over to us.
The squeak of the microphone quieted the crowd. The principal gave a few light taps in the mike and cleared his throat.
"Ok, I think we are ready to begin the process of getting schedules to all the students," M r. Logan said in his raspy voice, full of faux authority. See, Mr. Logan was the principal...technically. But the real authority figure was Mr. Parley, the Vice Principal. He was the one who would call the absolute, outright, toughest kids in the entire school to the office with them smiling, and let them leave crying like a little baby. It was actually quite a funny sight.
"Can we have last names beginning with A-F come get there schedules at the first desk?" Mr. Logan said in a somewhat shaky voice, trying to act like who had everything under control.
He found out he was wrong when about a fourth of the students darted out of the air in perfect unison and rushed over, crowding the desk. Some of them were so eager as to nearly knock him out of their way.