Chiara Maddison-Personal Narrative

Chiara Maddison One day in late August, I was playing softball with my family. It was starting to get dark when I heard a voice from behind me. “If you’re playing second base, you should move closer,.” he said. I turned to see that it was the 14 year-old boy who was at the cottage nest to ours who had been watching me all summer. When I turned to face it seemed like he was staring.

“I’m playing outfield. I don’t like the responsibility of having a base,” I explained.

He said that he understood, but I could tell that he didn’t. All summer he had been diving and swimming laps to get my attention. I had hoped that he would eventually realize that I wasn’t interested, but he didn’t

“There’s a band in Dixford tomorrow night at nine. Want to go?” he asked.
I realized that there was no way of getting out of this, so I agreed to avoid hurting his feelings. It was around eight when he came to pick me up, but I had noticed that he had been paddling around for a while. When I stepped out, I began to regret agreeing to the canoe. I told him that we could take my dad’s car, but he insisted that it was better to go by canoe.I hesitantly sat down in the front of the canoe. As he pushed the canoe away from the shore, I noticed an extra paddle, but e didn’t say anything, so I just left it alone. I then took my shoes off and put my feet over the side. After a few minutes I asked him what kind of band it was.

“It’s sort of like folk music. You’ll like it.” he said.

Soon, I heard a splashing sound coming from the