**Ok, ok, I know this is really really short. I wrote it and was trying
over and over to think of something to continue, but nothing fit, so I just
ended it here. Don't worry, the next part will be really REALLY
long.....hee hee....... sorry if you don't want to wait....... **
Gwen had the try-outs for Hamlet today after school, so I went out front to wait for my dad alone. I was there for fifteen minutes before my dad called me on my cell phone and told me he couldn't pick me up ("Just made the most gratifying discovery, Jessi!"); I didn't mind. I was still hyped up on the adrenaline from my encounter, I needed to walk some off. As I walked along the street toward my house, I thought of what I had done. Something inside of me had woken up, something buried deeper than I could guess. But it was still there. I felt like a whole new person. I was so wrapped up in my exhilaration, I almost didn't notice the deja vu feeling come over me again. I slowed my pace a bit, staring at the ground as I walked. I had the feeling of someone shoving me to the ground, taking my backpack, and running. I felt the fear, the small scrape on my elbow from the fall. Moved by instinct, I whipped around to face a man standing within two inches of me, taken aback by my sudden movement. His surprise dissipated quickly, though, and I stepped backwards in horror as he advanced on me.
"All I want's the bag, kid," he growled. I shook my head, my mouth open in terror. I followed the second instinct I had that day; I turned on my heels and ran. I looked behind me. That was a mistake. The mugger obviously didn't expect me to run, but he caught himself and leaped at me. He hit my legs and I fell on the sidewalk. I scrambled up and face the man, legs spread in a crouching manner. He made a grab for me, and I kicked at him. He snatched his arm back and looked at it in astonishment, then with his face contorted in pain. I stared at his arm. It was bent at an odd angle. I came to my senses, shook my head, and ran as hard as I could. I looked back and saw the man leaning against the wall, slowly getting smaller. I turned the corner onto what I vaguely recognized as my street and stopped running. I stood with my eyes wide open, my cheeks flushed with the exercise. At that moment, I realized with a shock what I had just done. First, the image of the man's arm came into my head. Then, the sensation of wind in my hair, my legs working as fast as they could. I had been running. And I wasn't gasping for air, no asthma. I wasn't even out of breath. I felt like bouncing off the walls. I stretched my legs, attracting strange looks from passer-by, but I didn't care. The muscles in my legs felt wonderful. There was a burning feeling, but it wasn't bad. I remembered feeling this way, a long time ago. I walked home with a huge grin on my face.
I absentmindedly did homework until five o'clock, when my mom got home. She looked troubled; I was sure it was the story she was working on. She is a very compassionate person, and tends to get caught up emotionally in certain articles. I asked her what was wrong. She looked at me strangely, as though seeing me as a different person. I remembered my new and improved stomach and biceps, and overall appearance, and blushed slightly.
"Nothing, dear," she replied distantly, though I knew there was. I also knew it was big, and that it had to do with me. It was sort of like what happened at lunch, though not exactly. It was as though someone had told me, but at the time I hadn't been listening and now I couldn't remember. I sat there for a few moments, desperately digging through my mind, trying to find the remains of a memory that wasn't there.
"Jessi, has your father called since you got home?" asked my mom suddenly. I jumped, still deep in thought. I shook my head to clear it.
"No, but he called me at school and said he wouldn't be able to pick me up," I said, clearing the table of my school things. "Something about a 'gratifying discovery.'"
She had been rummaging through the cupboards for inspiration on what to make for dinner, but at this she jumped, and stared at me. "Oh, no," she whispered, putting her hand to her mouth.
"Mom?" I said cautiously, coming up behind her. "What is it? What's the matter?" She moved away from me and started to put her jacket on.
"Nothing dear," she replied. She was looking anywhere except at me. "I'll be back it a minute, I'm going to the store. Start making Sloppy Joes, would you? The mix is in there somewhere, and there's meat in the fridge." And she was out the door.
I stood there for a few minutes before getting the ingredients out. This wasn't just some little thing. My mother was afraid of me.
Gwen had the try-outs for Hamlet today after school, so I went out front to wait for my dad alone. I was there for fifteen minutes before my dad called me on my cell phone and told me he couldn't pick me up ("Just made the most gratifying discovery, Jessi!"); I didn't mind. I was still hyped up on the adrenaline from my encounter, I needed to walk some off. As I walked along the street toward my house, I thought of what I had done. Something inside of me had woken up, something buried deeper than I could guess. But it was still there. I felt like a whole new person. I was so wrapped up in my exhilaration, I almost didn't notice the deja vu feeling come over me again. I slowed my pace a bit, staring at the ground as I walked. I had the feeling of someone shoving me to the ground, taking my backpack, and running. I felt the fear, the small scrape on my elbow from the fall. Moved by instinct, I whipped around to face a man standing within two inches of me, taken aback by my sudden movement. His surprise dissipated quickly, though, and I stepped backwards in horror as he advanced on me.
"All I want's the bag, kid," he growled. I shook my head, my mouth open in terror. I followed the second instinct I had that day; I turned on my heels and ran. I looked behind me. That was a mistake. The mugger obviously didn't expect me to run, but he caught himself and leaped at me. He hit my legs and I fell on the sidewalk. I scrambled up and face the man, legs spread in a crouching manner. He made a grab for me, and I kicked at him. He snatched his arm back and looked at it in astonishment, then with his face contorted in pain. I stared at his arm. It was bent at an odd angle. I came to my senses, shook my head, and ran as hard as I could. I looked back and saw the man leaning against the wall, slowly getting smaller. I turned the corner onto what I vaguely recognized as my street and stopped running. I stood with my eyes wide open, my cheeks flushed with the exercise. At that moment, I realized with a shock what I had just done. First, the image of the man's arm came into my head. Then, the sensation of wind in my hair, my legs working as fast as they could. I had been running. And I wasn't gasping for air, no asthma. I wasn't even out of breath. I felt like bouncing off the walls. I stretched my legs, attracting strange looks from passer-by, but I didn't care. The muscles in my legs felt wonderful. There was a burning feeling, but it wasn't bad. I remembered feeling this way, a long time ago. I walked home with a huge grin on my face.
I absentmindedly did homework until five o'clock, when my mom got home. She looked troubled; I was sure it was the story she was working on. She is a very compassionate person, and tends to get caught up emotionally in certain articles. I asked her what was wrong. She looked at me strangely, as though seeing me as a different person. I remembered my new and improved stomach and biceps, and overall appearance, and blushed slightly.
"Nothing, dear," she replied distantly, though I knew there was. I also knew it was big, and that it had to do with me. It was sort of like what happened at lunch, though not exactly. It was as though someone had told me, but at the time I hadn't been listening and now I couldn't remember. I sat there for a few moments, desperately digging through my mind, trying to find the remains of a memory that wasn't there.
"Jessi, has your father called since you got home?" asked my mom suddenly. I jumped, still deep in thought. I shook my head to clear it.
"No, but he called me at school and said he wouldn't be able to pick me up," I said, clearing the table of my school things. "Something about a 'gratifying discovery.'"
She had been rummaging through the cupboards for inspiration on what to make for dinner, but at this she jumped, and stared at me. "Oh, no," she whispered, putting her hand to her mouth.
"Mom?" I said cautiously, coming up behind her. "What is it? What's the matter?" She moved away from me and started to put her jacket on.
"Nothing dear," she replied. She was looking anywhere except at me. "I'll be back it a minute, I'm going to the store. Start making Sloppy Joes, would you? The mix is in there somewhere, and there's meat in the fridge." And she was out the door.
I stood there for a few minutes before getting the ingredients out. This wasn't just some little thing. My mother was afraid of me.