Non-classifiable
Silas' seven grandparents took him on outings over the July long weekend. Two took him camping. Two took him to the dog show. Two took him to the dinosaur museum. And one rode the roller coaster with him at the amusement park.
But sometimes Silas couldn't keep up with his seven grandparents.
"After all, I'm only one small boy," said Silas.
Silas' seven grandparents took him on outings over the July long weekend. Two took him camping. Two took him to the dog show. Two took him to the dinosaur museum. And one rode the roller coaster with him at the amusement park.
But sometimes Silas couldn't keep up with his seven grandparents.
"After all, I'm only one small boy," said Silas.
Skateboarding always made me feel in groove, totally chilled and high-wired at the same time. At the skate park, though, I felt none of that. I slapped my board down, kicked for speed and dropped into the middle of the bowl. Way too many people were zigzagging crazy patterns back and forth. It was madness.
I was getting some nasty looks. But I couldn't leave, even though that was what those ugly staring faces said without one word. It was clear I was not liked. Was it the way I looked? Was it my hair? Or was it just me?
It was Mike and me on the fast break, two-on-one against a skins' defenseman. I was closing in on the top of the key, with the defenseman stuck to me like glue, when I saw Mike. He was wide open at the bottom of the key and calling for the ball. One sharp pass to Mike and we'd clinch the win. But then I heard Coach Donovan's voice in my head: Whatcha got, kid? Whatcha got? And I thought: I'll show you what I've got.
"Hi, Laura! Hi, kids!" he says, overfriendly and not waiting for an answer. I don't even want to say his name. I hate him. I totally, absolutely, completely, really, truly hate him.
