One life-changing event that has impacted my life was the decision to join my high school lacrosse team going into my freshman year. I didn't know too many people going into my first year of high school besides my close childhood friends. I had been playing soccer for most of my life and had been attending the high school soccer camp to prepare for tryouts. My friend called me a week before school started and asked me if I wanted to join him in at one of his practices. That call changed my life forever.
Jett is seven years old and he lives with his mom and brother in Baker Street. His parents have just divorced three days ago and his father moved to New York, America. He has never talked about it anyone. In fact, he doesn’t like talk anymore. Jett prefers to draw pictures than talk with others. He loves getting lost in his wonderful and colorful world of drawing.
I could feel my legs shaking and my mind racing as my mother parks the car. I open the car door and run over to my mother in search of security. We are walking towards a building, which I have never seen. My right hand squeezes my mothers as my left hand squeezes my brand new shiny black tap shoes. We walk into this strange building; the walls are painted neon pink with little pink cubbies surrounding the room. There are about ten girls my age all dressed in pink tutus and pink leotards. I am wearing a black leotard with no sparkly pink tutu. My mom tells me that she will pick me up in an hour and to have fun. This was not a familiar environment to me, I grew up watching my older sister on the basketball court while my dad was on the bench coaching the girls and yelling on the top of his lungs. Basketball was a family tradition and I chose to go a different route. This building was soft, girly, quiet, and almost relaxing, something I was not used to.
As I walked along the sidewalk, I noticed the cracks in the pavement which spoke of tales known to only hard labor workers. It was then when I realized my life as a teenage adolescent boy was about to change. The cold breeze echoed sounds of silence, which sent shivers down my spine once it touched my skin. The midnight sky was full of stars as though drops of rain on a window pane, captivating and clear. Not like the ones on the reservation, but the view was adequately similar because on the reservation there are no lights and tall building blocking the view. The smell of fresh trees masked the grotesque smell of carbon dioxide polluting the air, but hey we need some type of means of transportation. Suddenly I was swimming in a sea of silence.
I walked to the attendance desk of the video game tournament and told a young, tired blonde woman my name and competitive alias. She smiled. "You're good to go," she said as she gave me a colored bracelet.
Cruising down pinecone road at approximately 65 miles per hour, I couldn’t have been more anxious. I was dressed in a navy blue polo, visor and khakis, and was chewing my fingernails nervously in the June heat as my destination approached far too quickly. Suddenly, my mom and I were pulled over by a Sartell police car into a parking lot one minute before I was supposed to be clocked in for my first day of work at the first job of my life. I hopped out of the car and ran into the back door to be greeted by a smirking blonde working in the kitchen with, “I can smell new girl.” My dreaded first day of work had begun.
Detective Hunter Sloane, the top recruit of his graduating class and the first promoted to detective, thanks to his hound dog instincts, and relentless determination, had a new case. It took eight years, but he’d earned boasting rights and the respect of his peers and yet he remained humble. Though to be fair, his comrades did it for him. “With no cold cases to speak of, he’s simply the best at what he does,” someone said.
My sister, mother and I were in L.A for the week on vacation. It was pretty fun with trips to the beach, SpacEx tours, great mountain views from my uncle and aunt’s house, and watching the filming of a children’s TV show (so many cute doggies)! The thing that highlights the end of the trip in quite a bad way, is our unsuccessful attempts at departure.
Heart racing, palms sweating, head pounding, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. All the while I’m thinking to myself 4 more years just 4 more. It was around the end of the summer break August the 7th to be exact. My eyes were filled with determination as I sat alone side a bunch more like me (eager to be noticed hormonal filled teens). Our bodies filled with such anticipation, that of which we are blind to the knowing of what is to become of us throughout our time in this hellhole we call high school. As like many other freshman girls of my generation, education was the last thing on my mind. The bell rang at the struck of 7:00 am. The whole time I was just pasting down the hall thinking to myself ‘don’t touch me! ’yawl to loud
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