Ms. Buzileni 8th Grade
I watch as the teacher walks from one end of the classroom to another.
We accidentally look at each other and she then calls on me.
“Elizabeth” she says with an evil face.
I act like I didn’t hear, hoping she corrects herself
by saying my name the right way.
“Elizabeth” she says again.
I answer embarrassed.
I then sit down and watch as the rain pours on the window.
When my little brother says my name it is like a breeze, it is soft but you can also feel it a little rough. I see my brother who barely knows how to count to 3 with a LOT of energy and love for his family as he says my name in a good but not decent way. As he says my name, he says it like a bee suddenly stung him in the first 2/3 of a lip, but manages to say it in a soft tone with a little bit of a fever on his throat.
I hear coming from the other room.
Startled, I freeze up like a statue
then quickly sprint over faster than a cheetah.
I turn the corner to see a crying little brother injured and worried.
I hug him, figure out his situation.
Then we go on our way
getting some delicious food
to celebrate another day.