"You see us as you want to see us—in the simplest terms‚ in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain...and an athlete...and a basket case...a princess...and a criminal. Does that answer your question?” Claire Standish is believed to be the princess of the “club”. But who is the real Claire? Claire is the real princess because of her appearance‚ her actions‚ her life‚ and her future. Claire presents herself exactly how she is stereotyped to be‚ a princess
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Kaytlin Edwards Melted Knee Everything appeared to melt from the heat of the sweltering sun. I had fallen twice that day and every time I tried to get back up it was like a cloud of darkness was in my head and covering my eyes. Dribbling a ball up and down a court in 100 degree weather can cause a little bit of dizziness. Except the third time I fell‚ my head did not experience the darkness; my whole body did. It was as though someone let a cage of butterflies out in my stomach‚ but not the kind
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I crouch alongside the Pennsylvania State House silently. I peek out from the edge towards the front door. Two guards stand on each side engaging in small talk. With a groan‚ I slump back against the building. How am I supposed to get in? I lean my head against the wall and look up toward the sky. The window directly above me suddenly opens and I freeze in fear. “Why are you opening that window? It’s out in the back hall!” “Well‚ I thought we could leave the door open and have a nice breeze flow
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It was a typical spring day; flowers stand tall‚ soaking in the sun’s warm rays as they swing in the gentle yet crisp breeze. A song composed of chirping birds slightly overpower the sound of traffic as it is still early in the morning. Macy Jones awoke after a well rested night. Her facial expressions indicate happiness however‚ a way of reality hit‚ quickly transforming the slight smile into a deep frown. Macy Jones is not pretty‚ nor does she feel loved. She often wished her dull brown hair be
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The Cattle Barn It’s a small lot on our farm‚ with white and red tin siding that many people overlook. It’s right next to the voluminous silver towers of our mill. It’s a place where many lessons are learned and see many “joys and discomforts” of agricultural life all throughout the year. Starting in the middle of December all the way to the beginning of July is where I get to watch my project grow and develop. As soon as the herd sees me stumbling down the hill‚ they race to the gate and acknowledge
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Something any soccer player wants most than anything in the world‚ a President’s Cup championship. Practice is the reason for these types of tournaments. All the practice and extra work I put in payed off. I put in so much hard word and dedication‚ you wouldn’t believe. We had to do a lot of conditioning and drills to get to this point. My team and I worked ourselves to the point of breakage. We worked all summer for this moment. We played against higher level teams to make us better‚ and that was
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Silver Bracelet It was selfish‚ I knew in that moment that it was selfish. My sister‚ Bridgette‚ was only six years old‚ and I took advantage of being only a year older than her. She was oblivious to what I was doing in that moment. We were at the arcade in the middle of July in Stone Harbor‚ NJ. We decided that after we were done playing all the games‚ that we would combine our tickets and split it. After about an hour‚ we came together to add up our tickets. To my surprise‚ she had won more tickets
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His ruthless heart on the ruby-splattered blade of its guiltless bearer‚ he dropped like a stone to the bloodstained turf‚ letting a cry of anguish blend in with the rapidly retreating footsteps of his cowering soldiers. He knew he would survive‚ but they didn’t‚ and at that moment in time them not knowing was what really mattered. He stared through his supposedly closed eyelids at his killer. A girl‚ this time‚ with blonde‚ wavy hip-length hair and startling cyan eyes. That was what got him that
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Carina Wallace English 111 Ms. Simmerman Jan. 22‚ 2015 My Second Home I wake up to the sound of laughter downstairs‚ and the smell of fresh hot biscuits in the oven. I sit up drowsily in bed; the sun is shining through the window‚ making little patterns of light on my sheets. I rise‚ feeling the coolness of the wood floor against my feet as they touch the ground. I walk to the closet and grab my faded old jeans; I slip them on‚ buttoning the snap in one fluid movement. I pull open the top drawer
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Annie Normile 11/22/14 College Writing I Professor Liddle Exploring Authentic Experiences The ground beneath the stiff leaves is frozen. The cold‚ brisk air invades my lungs‚ I exhale‚ my breath visible. I step over fallen branches and get tugged on by thorny vines. The untrailed path I forge to the top of this mountain is steep and difficult‚ but worth the work to be a new explorer on the fresh‚ dewridden ground of this lonely mountain on this brisk morning
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