S
Skye
Guest
PLLLLLEEEAAASSSEE!!!!!!!!!? This is a character sketch. Our teacher wants us to show, not tell. Do you get a sense of the person's charcter through this incident?
She’s a young girl. Her life has barely started, yet she has seen more than the highest ranked police officer.
I saw her for the first time while I was stuck in traffic, waiting for the light to turn green. It was a lazy Sunday late afternoon, and I just wanted to get home.
She came out from behind the nearby car wash station, holding a grimy bucket filled with soapy water and a squeegee.
I looked at her and scoffed. A typical street kid. Her dirty jeans had many holes, her boots were scuffed and ripped, and her shirt was unraveling at the cuffs. A stained scarf was draped over her neck and a small, worn tote bag was slung over her shoulder. Through the curtain of lank hair that covered her pale, grimy face, I could make out two shiny eyes. Then I noticed she was heading towards me.
She peered out at me imploringly, then, wordlessly, she started to wash my windshield. Her colourless lips were cracked and tight, her face in shadows and her body tense. There were circular burn marks on her wrists and narrow cuts leading up her arms towards her shoulders.
Raising my eyebrows, I looked away. See, I knew about these squeegee kids. They’re just a bunch of spineless, brainless rats, seen every day in this slummy part of town. I wouldn’t even be here in this place if it hadn’t been for that lousy budget meeting. But anyways, these kids—if you don’t pay them what they want, they might break something on your car, like windshield wipers or the side view mirrors.
The yellow light came on just as she finished. Then, she came over to my window. Her eyes peered out at me through the shadows on her face. I opened the window a crack and gingerly dropped a loonie into her outstretched palm. That’s what the squeegee kids usually take; do it confidently and they’ll scamper away quickly.
So when I turned away and she was still standing there, I faltered a bit. She was still holding out her hand. Her jaw was set and her eyes locked mine in a fiery, demanding glare.
I understood her message perfectly. It radiated out from every pore in her body—she wanted more. She wanted two dollars. Two dollars for some squeegee kid? Never. I turned to her and shouted at her to go away.
The light turned green. She was still standing there, her eyes staring deep into mine. She stared at me, and I stared back in a mixture of broken superiority and horror. The cars around us honked and angry shouts sounded out.
She wasn’t moving. Her face was defiant.
As if in a trance, I was compelled to do something I would never had done. I gave her another loonie and she went away.
I didn’t know what to do other than drive away.
She’s a young girl. Her life has barely started, yet she has seen more than the highest ranked police officer.
I saw her for the first time while I was stuck in traffic, waiting for the light to turn green. It was a lazy Sunday late afternoon, and I just wanted to get home.
She came out from behind the nearby car wash station, holding a grimy bucket filled with soapy water and a squeegee.
I looked at her and scoffed. A typical street kid. Her dirty jeans had many holes, her boots were scuffed and ripped, and her shirt was unraveling at the cuffs. A stained scarf was draped over her neck and a small, worn tote bag was slung over her shoulder. Through the curtain of lank hair that covered her pale, grimy face, I could make out two shiny eyes. Then I noticed she was heading towards me.
She peered out at me imploringly, then, wordlessly, she started to wash my windshield. Her colourless lips were cracked and tight, her face in shadows and her body tense. There were circular burn marks on her wrists and narrow cuts leading up her arms towards her shoulders.
Raising my eyebrows, I looked away. See, I knew about these squeegee kids. They’re just a bunch of spineless, brainless rats, seen every day in this slummy part of town. I wouldn’t even be here in this place if it hadn’t been for that lousy budget meeting. But anyways, these kids—if you don’t pay them what they want, they might break something on your car, like windshield wipers or the side view mirrors.
The yellow light came on just as she finished. Then, she came over to my window. Her eyes peered out at me through the shadows on her face. I opened the window a crack and gingerly dropped a loonie into her outstretched palm. That’s what the squeegee kids usually take; do it confidently and they’ll scamper away quickly.
So when I turned away and she was still standing there, I faltered a bit. She was still holding out her hand. Her jaw was set and her eyes locked mine in a fiery, demanding glare.
I understood her message perfectly. It radiated out from every pore in her body—she wanted more. She wanted two dollars. Two dollars for some squeegee kid? Never. I turned to her and shouted at her to go away.
The light turned green. She was still standing there, her eyes staring deep into mine. She stared at me, and I stared back in a mixture of broken superiority and horror. The cars around us honked and angry shouts sounded out.
She wasn’t moving. Her face was defiant.
As if in a trance, I was compelled to do something I would never had done. I gave her another loonie and she went away.
I didn’t know what to do other than drive away.
and Yes! I do get a sense of this person's character