Mr. Buxton 7th Grade RLA

Ava did a great job of building a 'multiplicity of problems' for her character. Notice how she never mentioned the dead computer  but inferred it. This piece really did a solid job of building the conflict what lots of small problems. Notice also how the character ended 'in the light'

Leaving Everything Behind

“I hate myself. No, I’m not kidding. I hate myself, I really really do. Everything I do is wrong. Every word I speak is incorrect. Every step I take is false. Every breath I take is not deserved. I hate myself.” These thought bubble up in my mind as I open my hand me down laptop. I sigh as I see hundreds of rude emails among the one from Mr. W. It’s Tuesday evening. 6:32 to be exact. My weak body lays on top of my gray and purple duvet that is sloppily placed on the bed I have had since I was 8. I look up from my laptop. As I scan my room I see dirty clothes and old homework assignments that I never bothered to finish. I see a test the I completely failed last week. My grades are slowly dropping and I don’t want to spend my summer in Mr. W’s room so I am quickly trying to do his homework. I stare blankly at the email he sent to me.

It says “Dear Skylar, In order for your grades to drastically improve before the end of the year, you will have to complete this extra credit assignment to the best of your ability. Interview both of your parents about how they grew up. Then write a 500-word essay on how they have different lifestyles. Use what we have learned in class about different cultures in this essay. Best of luck. Sincerely, Mr. Wilkinson.”

Unfortunately, this particular extra credit assignment involves interviewing both of my parents and comparing their lifestyles growing up. “This isn’t going to be fun,” I thought to myself. I turn my head to peek out the cracked door. I can hear them arguing in hushed voices that are steadily rising. I hear my dad’s voice. Harsh and angry and loud. I can feel my body tensing up. Clenched fists, I dig my nails deep into my sweaty palms. I slowly slide my laptop off my lap and carefully step down from my bed as if I was trying to be quiet. Stepping over dirty clothes, I reach the edge of my room. With blank eyes, I stare out my door. I look the empty hall up and down, thinking of all my siblings in each of their rooms. I turn around from the door frame and walk back to my bed, and plop down and open my laptop back up.

“Great,” I whisper to myself. I get back up and grab my charger and shove it harshly into the wall. I now have to wait for my stupid computer to charge. I sigh. Finally, my computer comes back to life. I grab it and immediately sign in. I check my email and see nothing but rude cruel words. “The world would be a better place without you.” and “You should just stop trying to do anything” and “Go kys”. I grab my phone, whipping my face quickly every 2 seconds. I run into my small bathroom and reach for the medicine cabinet and yank it open. I turn the lights on but them immediately turn them back off. I grab bottle after bottle and line them up neatly on my sink counter. I quickly search for something, anything that can hold water. All that I can find is the old cup that holds my toothbrush and toothpaste. I grab it and pull the faucet to the side and the cool water quickly fills the cup to the brim. I dump something in my hand not knowing or caring what it is. I move my trembling hand up to my lips and hold it there. My body won’t let this happen. I put down the old cup and reached for my phone. All of the sudden it was like I didn’t have control over my body. I swiped past all of the relentless texts and without my knowing punched in a number and held it to my ear. Someone picks up on the other end.

“Hi, I’m Janie. Can I help you?” All of the sudden I remember when I was 9 years old. “Only 6 years ago,” I think. We had just moved into our old house on the other side of town. I was so excited to finally have a house with a pool. We got to our new house and got out of the car and ran to the door begging our parents to unlock it. We ran in and started playing tag because when the Mosholt’s find a large space, there is always some sort of game. I loved our new house. But unfortunately, 1-2 years after moving our parents started fighting. First, it just seemed like a normal everyday thing that parents go through. It started dragging out for like one year. It started to get worse and worse. I didn’t know why this was happening. It got to the point where I would be lying wrapped in a blanket crying myself to sleep because I was so scared about what was going to happen. I blamed myself. It was my fault. There was no particular reason why, but I always felt like it was my fault. No matter how many times I told myself it wasn’t. People said I became quieter. Keeping to myself just seemed smarter than talking about home. I spent most of my time reading about anything and everything. I put myself in other people’s worlds. Live their lives. And I loved it. At some point, people started whispering about me behind my back. Soon after that, it just came to make fun of Skylar. I hated it. And every single day since then, it has been getting worse and worse. I snapped back into reality and stared down to look at my wrists. I thought about if mom or dad ever saw these or if Anna, Coop, Seb, or Carson ever saw these. I shudder at the thought.

“Yeah,” I said after a minute, no longer caring to whip the tears from under my eyes. I let them simply stream down my ugly face. I managed to say between breaths.“I just want to give up. I can’t take any of the mean things people are saying to me anymore.”

“Don’t give up,” she said as if she really truly believe in me. “You can do this. You can get through this. We are in this together.” a small pause, “Don’t give up,” she whispered on the other end of the line.

“I won’t,” I whispered back. I caught myself by surprise. A complete stranger was telling me not to give up, and I just agreed that I wouldn’t. Wow. I turn the lights back on, and walk out of the bathroom. Leaving everything behind.