<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479</id><updated>2011-07-07T19:17:55.654-07:00</updated><category term='Madison'/><category term='Jackie'/><title type='text'>Written By Rachel</title><subtitle type='html'>See the stories I've done in my life...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-8685559519678000646</id><published>2010-02-16T09:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:59:25.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WBR has a new look!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc66cc;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Hey All!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry if I haven't posted in a bit...but today, I got a little sick of the blog design, so I switched a few things around!! I might switch the story, "Dancing in the Rain" around, too. By that, I might have to change a few names, the plot of the book, add a few people, and all that, but the message is still the same. So, I'll get to writing that, and y'all enjoy yourselves, 'kay??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,&lt;br /&gt;Rach&lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-8685559519678000646?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/8685559519678000646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2010/02/wbr-has-new-look.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/8685559519678000646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/8685559519678000646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2010/02/wbr-has-new-look.html' title='WBR has a new look!!!'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-5927291510688082298</id><published>2009-12-17T15:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:37:12.021-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Madison'/><title type='text'>A random story....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Hi. I thought I might post this story, because it's a Christmas story. And it's a lesson about giving. I entered this story in a contest that my friend held...and I won. Some of the readers of "Sisters in the Savior" might know this story. I hope you like it anyway. It's short, but sweet. :)&lt;br /&gt;NOTE: I added a little thing that Anna had at the end of her post. :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;I could tell that Christmas spirit was all the buzz at my apartment; the Christmas tree covered with golden, hanging lights, the red and silver tinsel gleaming behind the lights, the ginger bread nativity scene that my little sister made this week at church, my dad roasting chestnuts and hot cocoa over the warm, cozy fire for my little brothers and sister, after a long day in snow-forts and throwing snowballs, the woman living in the apartment next to my family, Mrs. Lawry, blaring her Christmas music all the way up, and the my Maltese, Snowy, chasing around my little siblings as they danced to the music in Mrs. Lawry's apartment...and let's not forget the endless Christmas shopping that many people occupy their time with. Usually, I'd enjoy the holiday cheer and spirit; as a tradition, my grandparents would visit on Christmas day, and I especially loved their unique but enthusiastic gifts. But that was sadly delayed by my grandfather's passing two months ago because of Lung Cancer, and since then, that tragedy has left me in the dumps; I didn't find the fun in all of this Christmas spirit without my grandpa around. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Madison, dear!" My mom shouted from the living room. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Yes mother?" I asked."Would you do me a huge favor, and..." she started to whisper. "There's a plush monkey that your little sister wanted for Christmas. Would you mind buying it for me?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;I sighed and replied, "Sure. Whatever you'd like." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;She handed me about thirteen dollars, and I took it out of her hands, threw my Ugg boots on, buttoned up my red peacoat and stepped out my apartment door, into the elevator, and out onto the streets. I noticed the shimmer in the Christmas lights hung on the no-leaf trees and in the pure-as-white Christmas snow; I watched my step, as my Ugg boots are made for style, not safety, making sure I wouldn't slip on the black ice. I walked into the store and immediately spotted the stuffed monkey; I grabbed it of the shelf, rushed to the counter, and paid the cashier about twelve dollars and sixty-four cents, leaving me with thirty-six cents in change. As I walked out of the store, from the corner of my eye, I spotted a woman, in her forties, huddled up on a sidewalk vent, feeding some bread crumbs to some pigeons. I stared at the thirty-six cents in my hand, and turned my head toward the woman. My grandfather always told me to give to those who have less than what you have; so as the pigeons flew away, I shouted, "Hello! Ma'am?!" I ran to her and handed her my thirty-six cents. "I'm so sorry for breaking in that quickly," I implied.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"That's alright, dear." She said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"I just couldn't help but notice you here. Not to be rude, but how did you...become like this?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Well," she started. "I wasn't always here, trying to keep warm. I used to have a husband, a home...a very beautiful home, in fact, and I never had to worry about life."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"What happened?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Well, my husband passed away because of a Construction accident, and since then, I couldn't pay my bills. So, the Government foreclosed my house and I couldn't afford another one. So now, I'm here."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Oh..." I didn't know what to say at the moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"But that's alright," she implied. "whatever money I usually receive I either save, or buy some toys to donate to the children at the hospital.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;A confused look flashed over my face; I don't understand how a woman, especially a homeless one, could still be eligible to give what she has to some kids when it's HER that needs to receive things. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Why do you give when you're here and need things for yourself?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Oh, child," she laughed, putting her arm over my shoulder. "I remember as a child that God gave us Jesus Christ to save us from our sins. God gives us many things, even when we forget to give something to him. So if God gave to us, we should give to others. Am I correct?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"I...guess so."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;"Well, I better let you go now. Thank you and merry Christmas!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;As I walked away, my lips formed into a smile; I knew that grandpa would be proud of me after what I did. I gripped the stuffed monkey and ran home to my warm, cozy house&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" &gt;God gives us many things--more like everything. He even gave us His only Son--born in a manger lowly manger, then died on cross and rose from the dead. He gave us &lt;strong&gt;SALVATION&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Yeah, so...I hope you enjoyed that. And this isn't just for the holidays--it's for every day. God gave us salvation, so it's an important role ourselves to give to those who are in need, even if they don't deserve it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;God Bless, y'all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Your Sister In Christ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Rachel.T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;P.S: Jackie will come back soon. Promise :))&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-5927291510688082298?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/5927291510688082298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/12/brag-brag-brag-1-here-it-comes-again.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/5927291510688082298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/5927291510688082298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/12/brag-brag-brag-1-here-it-comes-again.html' title='A random story....'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-4336171562734422244</id><published>2009-12-05T09:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-05T09:18:38.518-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just some things you might need to know...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Hello world and all that's happening!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I thought I might do this post 'cause there's a few things I wanted to sort out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*So, Jackie's next book, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Brag Brag Brag, &lt;/span&gt;will have it's first chapter up hopefully soon. I'm still writing like crazy for the first chapter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I will still write on this blog, but I thought I could use some "how-to's" on writing. Just so I can write more often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I got the first book (Dancing in the Rain) printed, but it needs editing like nuts. I decided not to use Blog2Print, because it wasn't exactly what I expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I'm hoping to give this log a make-over...period. Not just for Christmas, but just period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's all. God Bless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luv,&lt;br /&gt;Rachel.T &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-4336171562734422244?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/4336171562734422244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/12/just-some-things-you-might-need-to-know.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/4336171562734422244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/4336171562734422244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/12/just-some-things-you-might-need-to-know.html' title='Just some things you might need to know...'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-1352866402068235223</id><published>2009-11-25T09:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:39:21.299-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jackie'/><title type='text'>Book Cover!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408101924195486130" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right; width: 319px; height: 400px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQbsVggLeTM/Sw1wC_THSbI/AAAAAAAAAIs/bgH3UbzCiwM/s400/rain.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Hey All!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;This is Rachel, author of Dancing in the Rain. After&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;browsing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Photobucket a bit, I found the perfect cover! Hope you&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;like it and God Bless!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 51);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Luv,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Rach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-1352866402068235223?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/1352866402068235223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/11/book-cover.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/1352866402068235223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/1352866402068235223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/11/book-cover.html' title='Book Cover!!'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sQbsVggLeTM/Sw1wC_THSbI/AAAAAAAAAIs/bgH3UbzCiwM/s72-c/rain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-6626422231243312593</id><published>2009-10-23T13:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:39:50.399-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jackie'/><title type='text'>Dancing in the Rain: 7. A turn for the better...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I lie awake in my hospital bed, around about 2:35 in the morning, because I couldn't sleep. I thought about the horrible things I did, not just to myself, but to even my old friends. I broke Tim's arm, Lexie got a good beating in her foot, and I broke my femur. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Surprisingly&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt; didn't get hurt. But I knew it was my fault that I messed up. 'God, why couldn't you have warned me earlier?' I thought. 'I guess Maine wasn't worth its fifteen hours of driving.' I picked up the Taylor Swift, 'Fearless' CD that Drew gave me and my CD player with my pink &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ear buds&lt;/span&gt;. I decided to listen to the CD for a bit to help me fall asleep. The first four songs were interesting. But then, I stopped at 'White Horse' to listen to the lyrics. I thought the chorus related to me quite a bit:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;'I'm not a princess,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;this ain't a fairytale,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;lead her up the stairwell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I was a dreamer before you went,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;and let me down...' &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;As these words started to make a heart on my stain, I felt tears building up in my eyes. It was only true. I fell for a horrible lie, I went along with the populars, and I broke three bones. Nice one, Jackie. I repeated the song over and over until I finally wore out the batteries. I looked into my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;stepmom's&lt;/span&gt; purse that she left here, and found some AA batteries. I placed the in the battery pack in the CD player, and listened to song over and over...Again. All the sudden, I saw two women approaching my hospital room. I felt frightened a bit, but then, one of the women turned the lights on. It was Diane, my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt;, and someone else who looked spitefully familiar to me. "Hey, dear," Diane said. "How ya '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;doin&lt;/span&gt;?" "Fine, I guess," I replied, trying to hold more tears back. "This is someone I think you might know." I canvassed her for a while. Soon, the tears finally set free. "Mom?" I whispered. "Hello, Jacklyn." She implied. I hopped out of my bed and limped over to throw my arms around her. All this time, I thought God was trying to take something away from me. "I thought you died," I added. "That's what the doctor said." "Yes," she said. "But somehow, I survived overnight. I came here because mister grumpy was already married to Diane, so I took a flight here to live where you were born." "So why did the doctor say that you died?" "Well, I did for about an hour." "So...did you see heaven?" "Oh, yes, but sadly, it was replaced with a very painful recovery." "What was it like?" "I can't describe it in words, it's so beautiful." Then Diane added, "I thought you might want to see her because of what you've been through. And I thought I'd apologize. I'm sorry if I've been rough on the edges. I just didn't want you to go through my school year." "Wait till Whitney sees you!" I exclaimed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"How is Whitney doing these days?" Mom asked me. "Fine, just fine." I replied. "So, also, I heard you broke your femur." Mom added. "Yeah," I said. "...And T&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;im's&lt;/span&gt; arm, and Lexie's foot. It's my fault I'm here. I tried to save Lexie from falling twelve feet from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ground&lt;/span&gt;, but I ended up messing up everything. I know both of them are mad at me. They were before I broke their bones, just because I was so stubborn and I wanted to fit in. I will &lt;em&gt;never &lt;/em&gt;get them to forgive me." "I'm not so sure about that," Mom said. "I talked to Lexie, and she wanted me to tell you that she apologizes for being rude, and forgives you for messing things up. Tim is still a bit stubborn in his opinion..." "...But I roughed him up a bit!" Diane added. We all laughed. "Yeah, but now, everyone at school's gonna hate me." I implied. "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Y'know&lt;/span&gt;, my mom always had this saying: 'Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, but learning how to dance in the rain.'" Mom said. I gave her a confused look. She sighed. "As in, you should celebrate and praise God, even &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;when&lt;/span&gt; you're depressed. Have you prayed lately?" "No," I added. "It makes me uncomfortable when I do pray." "How about we pray, right now?" Diane replied. We all got in a circle, and one by one, we all prayed a different prayer. It made me cry to see how much Diane and my mom care about me. When Diane finally said 'Amen,' Mom advised, "Now wipe those tears out of your eyes and love life while you still have it." She kissed me on the forehead, and walked out of my hospital room with Diane. I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders, and went right back to sleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;```````````&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;After about a month and a week, the doctor let me out of the hospital without a cast. I felt a better spring in my step. Although once I got to school, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;everyone &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;made fun of me. Life went back to '&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;braniac&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;' and 'klutz' with me. I kinda wished I was back with the populars, but then I remembered how much they tricked me. I forgot to tell you, I dumped them after getting out of the hospital. All of the notes passed to me were threats and random mean words, and I wanted to run out of school, crying. Lunch wasn't any better. I sat down with a few girls, and they got up and walked away. I spotted Tim, Drew, and his crew coming my way, so I decided to slip under the table and eat there, like I used to. Tim never knew that I ate under his table. No one does, actually, but that changed. One of his friends, Hunter, hit his foot against my face. "You're foot's pretty firm Drew." He said. "That's not my foot." "Then who's foot is it?" Hunter asked. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Tim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; looked under the table. Here comes trouble. "You hit Jackie!" Tim exclaimed. All of them looked under the table. I tried to cower away, but Drew grabbed my sweater, dragged me out from under the table, and yanked me to a corner. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;What&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; on earth are you doing under our table!" He exclaimed. "Can't you just sit with Lexie and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, like usual?" "No," I replied. "After breaking Lexie's foot and being such a brat for the past month and a half probably means that they hate me now." Yeah. although mom said that she forgave me, Lexie tried to avoid me all day. Same with &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. "What would make you think-" Drew stopped for a moment. "So, does &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;anyone&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; know that you eat lunch under a boys' table?" "He asked me. "Well, it's too embarrassing to show my face in lunch," I answered,. "Because I've already been made fun of one too many times here. I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;hate &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Maine!" "You think I feel a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;ny&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; better!" Drew replied. "I think you should just apologize to Tim quick-" "Oh yeah, right after he calls me a selfish brat. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;That'll&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; make me feel happier!" I shouted. "Even &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;you &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;admitted that he's just plain rude!" I walked away, ready to cry, and I didn't want anything to do with apologizing to Tim. All the sudden, someone grabbed my arm. I tried to keep walking, but whoever got me had a tight grip. I kept yanking and yanking, but it wouldn't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;buge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. I turned around, and it was Tim. "You &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;really &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;thought that I would hate you for the rest of my life?" he said. "Ya think?" I replied. "If I remember well,you called me a selfish, conceited, self-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;centered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; brat, and said that I'm lucky that anyone came to the hospital to encourage me because of how annoying I am." "Uh...I get my anger from dad," he explained. "Like father, like son?" I raised an eyebrow. "Look, I can't leave you in your misery here, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;a'ight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;? So, forgive and forget?" Tim held out his hand to shake mine. "Sure," I responded, shaking his hand. "Forgive and forget. So, what about Lexie and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;?" "I already invited them over here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Lex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; can't wait to see you again." There was a moment of silence. "So how about that cheese and chicken &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;flatbread&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;sandwich&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, eh?" "Don't change the subject so quickly, Tim." "Right. So how about David &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Beckam&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;!" "Tim!" "I know, I know, I know." Hey, I don't really care. At least &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;every thing's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; back to normal." *&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Woo! Done already! The next book's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;comin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;' soon!! God bless!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;YSIC&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Rachel.T&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-6626422231243312593?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/6626422231243312593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/10/dancing-in-rain-7-turn-for-better.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/6626422231243312593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/6626422231243312593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/10/dancing-in-rain-7-turn-for-better.html' title='Dancing in the Rain: 7. A turn for the better...'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-7500165185712749452</id><published>2009-10-13T18:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:46:29.818-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jackie'/><title type='text'>Dancing in the Rain: 6. If I just didn't turn around...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Well, life in popularity is great. Kyla and Sierra respect me much more than Lexie or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt; &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; treated me&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; I like being noticed, since all of the populars call me "The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Braniac&lt;/span&gt;" which is nice to have a title. Although I don't talk to them much, because I'm often carrying books, I still like the fact that I'm respected, whether I'm from Pennsylvania or not. I like the fact that they don't bug me about Skylar, which is &lt;em&gt;awesome!! &lt;/em&gt;So, yeah. Life was going &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wonderfully&lt;/span&gt;. Until some things happened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;I&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; was leaning up against my locker, talking to Kyla about &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kota's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; ugly sweater. While talking, I didn't realize that she was behind my back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"Oh," I said as I turned around. "Hello, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt; Coyote." "Well, Hello Jackie the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Jackal&lt;/span&gt;." She replied. Surprisingly, she didn't look offended. "Are you here to tell me how horrible Skylar is?" "Actually, I'm here to prove it." She pointed to him, who was talking to the cheer captain, Sally. I stomped up to him and whispered in his ear, "Hello, Sky." "One second," he said. "What are yo doing here?" "Well, I thought you were hanging out with me." "Well, I &lt;em&gt;was,&lt;/em&gt; until you joined my sis' group. I guess I just had to move on in life." I gasped. "You are so...Rude!!" I exclaimed, stomping away. "Drama queen of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;meanbees&lt;/span&gt;." I heard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt; mumble. I pretended not to her her as I strutted away. But it kinda made me die on the inside a bit. Not because I just got insulted, but the fact that I got tricked by such a Rattlesnake with Blue eyes. Ouch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;`````````&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;After all that, I was playing Soccer with the girls at the park, and soon, I spotted Tim a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; Lexie, also playing soccer together. "Don't those two dorks make a great couple?" Sierra said&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"Oh yeah," I replied, trying not to pay attention to them. "I bet they're probably planning to go to the Fall Prom together." We all giggled, but I felt as if some little kid was tugging on my heart. I tried to ignore the feeling, but it couldn't go away. Soon, Sierra's mom brought lunch for us--Subway. Not fancy, but better that potato salad &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;sandwiches&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Ick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. It felt like for some reason, Tim and Lexie were like, following me around, because I saw 'em at Subway, too. "I'll be right back, girls," I snickered, walking up them. "Shouldn't you two losers be like...Carrying on, or something lik&lt;/span&gt;e &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;that?" "Jackie, this isn't you, and all four of us know it!" Lexie blurted. "Four?" I queried. I bumped into someone behind me, and it was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. "Hey there." She said. "You should just leave me alone. I'm perfectly fine where I am&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; And they're much more polite then all &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;three &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;of you combined. Plus, they said that I'll be oh-so popular in no time."&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"How's that working out for ya?" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;interrupted&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. I just strutted off.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;````````````&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;(This is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Kota's&lt;/span&gt; Point of View, or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;POV&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Man, Jack's been stuck up lately. I don't get that girl sometimes. I decided to look at Sky's site to see what&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;bad things he's said about me this time. Strangely, it wasn't on me. It was on Jackie. I read this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;THIS WEEK'S WORD: JACKLYN THOMPSON.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Man, her life stinks! Her own parents could just put her up to a foster home, her stepbrothers are both mute and the other can't shut up! She's also quite the klutz. And she's got a big head, so she'll let you cheat off her tests. She'll fall for &lt;em&gt;anything, &lt;/em&gt;so manipulating her won't be as hard as usual.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;CHANCES 4 U 2 B HER FRIEND: 11 outta 10!! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;HAHA&lt;/span&gt;!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Oh. I think I lost my eyesight. This is the worst post ever!! Why? Well, not to be rude, but it's kinda true. She is a klutz and doesn't know any better here. I thought before telling her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;She won't listen, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;She'll be better off to learn. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Lexie finally arrived at our house. She more likely played with Tim, so I just stayed in my room, typing a post on my computer. About ten minutes in, I hear, "Help me!!" I ran downstairs and outside, realizing that Lexie was hanging on for her life on a tree or she'd take a 15-foot drop. I saw Jackie about three seconds. "What's wrong?" She asked me. I pointed to Lexie, who was in a panic attack. Jack immediately ran up to the tree and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;climbed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; right to the branch she was on. Of course, then something bad happened. The branch snapped and Tim, Lexie, and Jackie landed right on top of me. Strangely, I felt fine, but I knew the others weren't. "Mom" I shrieked at the top of my lungs--Twice. She ran outside, asking, "What's wrong, Dakota?" I pointed to the huge pile of three people. She gasped. "I'll call 911," She replied. "In the meantime, get them inside! Now!" Getting Tim inside wasn't hard. It was Jackie and Lexie that was hard. Lexie's foot hurt, and Jackie was knocked out! It didn't take too long to get the ambulance truck here and the three in the ambulance. I was worried-almost sick watching them in their beds as we arrived at the hospital. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Oi &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Vei&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. The results are no good. Tim's arm is broken, Lexie's foot is smashed, but Jack's was the worst--her femur snapped. Ouch. "She'll be out for a while," the doctor told us. "So we'll keep an eye on her." Right at that&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;moment, she woke up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;(Alright,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;back to Jackie)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"Huh,? Where am I? and what happened?" I asked blatantly. "Well, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;uhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;," &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; started. "Your femur kinda...snapped in half while trying to save Lexie." I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;thumped&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; her head on the wall behind me. "Well, you should be angry," Tim added. "I mean, what can &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;you &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;expect from a selfish, conceited, self-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;centered&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;-" "-Shut up!" she interrupted as my eyes turned red. "I think for the past month, she's had enough to go through. Oh, and your family and some other &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;random&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; people are here." I saw my brother, Drew, peeking through the window, along with Josh, Zeke, Hunter, Gary, Lucas, and Sierra. "They can come in, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;y'know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;." I told the doctor. He let everyone in, and they all went in single-file line. "Diane wanted me to give this to you," He said. "We heard about the new just a bit ago. And Diane &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; going to give you this for your birthday, but she though now &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; a better time." He handed three &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;CDs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, all of them Taylor Swift, and and a CD player with pink &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;earbuds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. His eyes started to look bloodshot as he walked away. Next up was Josh. Oh boy. But when he said, "hi," his eyes looked a bit past bloodshot. "I have that American Girl doll that I stole in the third grade." After that, he ran so I wouldn't see him cry. I held the doll in my hand thinking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, Man, I &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;must&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; have messed up&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. After that was Sierra. "Why isn't Kyla or Skylar here?" I asked. She started, "Well, Kyla said she didn't want to waist her time with such a loser like you." I wanted her to stop right there. But she kept going. "What?" I exclaimed. "Yeah," She said. "She, like, wanted to make a total loser out of&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;you, but I didn't like the idea. Oh, and Skylar bashed you on his bog. He said that you were easy to control and stuff like that." My tears just started flooding my face. "Are you alright?" She asked. "Just go!" I exclaimed. "But-" "-Just go!!" She backed away slowly. I heard Tim mumble, "Drama Queen," and I tried to ignore it, but it just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;tugged&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; at me. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;Y'know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, it's surprising that anyone would come to see you," he said out loud as Drew walked up to him. " I thought that since you've been such a brat for the whole September that no one would come because&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;of your annoying attitude. Your stuck up, annoying-" "-Stop that!" Drew shouted. "For your &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;information&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, jerk, she is by far the best sister any thirteen-year-old could have!" I could see him struggle to speak because of tears. "She just wants to fit in! And if you don't believe that--then you're heartless! You hear me?! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Heartless&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;!" My jaw dropped in disbelief.I never heard, actually, anyone say that about me. Especially since Drew is really close to Tim. Drew was so dramatic, one of the doctors had to take him out of the room. I felt &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;horrible. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;really messed up this time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Guess this means I can't do anything right&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. I thought. My world felt like it was falling apart, right in front of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-7500165185712749452?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/7500165185712749452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/10/dancing-in-rain-5-if-i-just-didnt-turn.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/7500165185712749452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/7500165185712749452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/10/dancing-in-rain-5-if-i-just-didnt-turn.html' title='Dancing in the Rain: 6. If I just didn&apos;t turn around...'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-8224313674532732544</id><published>2009-10-06T14:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:49:50.348-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jackie'/><title type='text'>Dancing in the Rain: 5. Goodbye, Lexie, hello popularity!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;It's been a good four school days since school started, and so far, I still have Kota and Lexie as friends, and I still have a crush on Skylar. I dunno, he's cute! Anyway, yesterday, he wrote the address to his blog on the back of my hand, so I decided to check it out on Saturday night after finishing my homework. Of course, I'd bring the PC upstairs so I wouldn't hear another, "Jackie's got a boyfriend-" from Josh's routine. I typed in the address, and got this really professionally-designed blog with a header that wrote, "Simply Skylar--Who says there's no freedom in speech in America?" I thought the subtitle was weird, but just decided to read the first post. It read:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"UPDATE!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Live chat with blogkeeper Skylar at 5:30 PM. See ya there!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Simply,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Skylar."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Ooh, it's 5:28, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;But it'll be worth the wait. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I scrolled down to find the chat box, and it was a sidebar feature. Looked cool, too. All the sudden, I saw a message pop up:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Sky:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; Yoohoo. Anyone here?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I typed in my name and replied:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I'm here. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sky: &lt;/span&gt;oh great. Nice to see you here Jackie...Or should I say, Jacklyn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, and giggled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;yeah. im lucky to be here without josh's "Jackie's got a boyfriend" routine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sky&lt;/span&gt;: Josh? /:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;My little stepbro. he's REALLY annoying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sky: &lt;/span&gt;Whew! im relieved! So, you like it here so far?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;I dunno how 2 say this...ur blog is SICKKK!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sky: &lt;/span&gt;thx...I guess. /:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;All the sudden, someone else joined the conversation:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;helo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sky: &lt;/span&gt;wat r u doin here, tim????? I thought I blocked U!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;I never said I was signed in. And this is a PUBLIC blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sky: &lt;/span&gt;darn. &gt;(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;Uhh...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;ur on, Jack??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;yesss...and dont call me jack!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;get offa here!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;WAT???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;just go to [link] and i'll explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I decided to take his advice and go to Tim's blog. It wasn't as nice as Skylar's, but it was exceptional.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;okaaaay...wat now??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;oh good, you're here. wat were you doin on his blog??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;he invited me and I said yes. simple as that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;Do you even KNOW wat he's done to the world???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;no...I just moved here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;K...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;why does everyone hate Skylar???? &gt;(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;cuz hes a TRAITOR!! u see me? A TRAITORRRRR!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;no he isnt! hes the nicest person ive met since i moved here. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;thats what YOU think!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;shut it Tim!! like ur any bettr!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;hayyyy! I resent that!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;the feelings mutual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;There was a long pause before the next message came up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Can U just listen?? once he betrays you--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;betrays?? hed NEVER do that!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;JUST LISTEN!!!!!!! at some point, hes goin to betray you in an unpredictable way. then if u still hate him, he'll bash u on his blog!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;WAT???!!! he would NEVER do that! R U al OUT OF UR MINDS!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;UGH!! im sick and tired of talking to someone who wont listen!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;then get off and never see me AGAIN!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;fine!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Jackie: &lt;/span&gt;fine!!!!!!! &gt;( &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;urgh&lt;/span&gt;, i HATE &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;UUUUUUUUUU&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tim: &lt;/span&gt;the feelings mutual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I slammed the computer shut and jumped on my bed. I buried my face in my pillow as I started to cry. Whitney interrupted me and said. "Hey Jackie, where's the computer? I need to do my--What's wrong, Jackie?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"And for some reason, everyone hates him," I explained, trying to clear up my voice. "But he's the nicest kid in the world." "I guess it's your choice to like him or not," Whitney replied. "But be careful. Your friends might be right. Just...Do what God wants." She got up from my bed, took the computer and left the bedroom. I stuffed my face in my pillow and cried again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Listen to GOD???&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; I thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;But I can't hear Him!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;It was awkward sitting next to Tim on the bus, because I agreed on his blog never to see his face again. At lunch, I sat alone because &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; and Lexie were so mad that I wouldn't listen to them. I just sat under the table and tried my hardest not to cry. As I walked to the bathroom to cry some more, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; stopped me and pointed at me. "Did you just come out of-" "Long story," I said. "Can't talk." I ran to the bathroom as fast as I could, and locked myself in a bathroom stall to cry. All the sudden, I heard two girls walking up to my stall. "Hello?" A &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;girly&lt;/span&gt; voice&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; said. "Anyone in here?" "I'll get out." I whimpered. I opened the stall to show them the train wreck I was. One of the girls grabbed my hand. It was the girl next to my locker. "Are you alright?" she asked me. "No," I replied.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"Everyone hates me because I like this boy, Skylar. And now, I have no friends." "Well, I'm his sister," She added. "And I&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;know &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;that he'd never be such a jerk." "Really?" I asked. "Yeah," She said. "Your friends are just being dumb, like the rest of this school is. How about you join me and my friends in the popular club?" "Th-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;-the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;popular &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;club?" I said. "The name's Kyla," she implied. "And my friend here is Sierra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;." "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Hi." Sierra said. "So, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;whaddya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; say?" Kyla said. "I'll do it!"I replied, shaking her hand.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Next chapter won't be long!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Luv,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Rach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-8224313674532732544?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/8224313674532732544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/10/dancing-in-rain-5-goodbye-lexie-hello.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/8224313674532732544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/8224313674532732544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/10/dancing-in-rain-5-goodbye-lexie-hello.html' title='Dancing in the Rain: 5. Goodbye, Lexie, hello popularity!'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-358231109148222028</id><published>2009-09-26T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:51:09.437-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jackie'/><title type='text'>Dancing in the Rain: 4. Girl meets skateboard....And traitor.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;After getting out of school, I took a deep breath of the crisp Autumn air. That school is extremely stuffy, and I can barely breathe in there! Walking out onto the sidewalk, I tripped and fell--luckily into grass. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Who tripped me? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. Turns out, no one tripped me. Right behind me was a skateboard, dyed in blue, black and white. It looked like a board that someone from New York City would use. I picked up the skateboard, and on it, there were graffiti letters that were hard to understand. But soon, I figured out what it was. It said this, "Liv 4 Life." I placed the skateboard on the ground and looked around. It didn't seem like anyone wanted it, so I rode it on the way home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I looked up at my house. I knew that if I walked in, I would have to stay with Diane for two hours. I didn't wanna do that! I think she hates me! Instead, I hopped on my skateboard and rode to somewhere else. Problem was, I didn't know where I was going. All the sudden, some girl with reddish-brunette hair and hazel eyes ran up to me. "You didn't happen to see my skateboard, did you?" She asked me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Whoops, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Well, I'm in huge trouble. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I jumped off the skateboard and picked it up to show her. "Oh." She said, grinning. "Is there anything wrong?" I asked. "Nah," She replied. "I was just wondering where it was, 'cause I was gonna give it away to whoever was lucky to find it." "Why?" I questioned. "It gives me bad memories of dance competition," She said. "And keeping horrid memories in my closet is a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;big &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;no-no for me." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Too bad I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;have to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;live&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; with my bad memory. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. "So, where is the library around here?" I asked. "Oh, really, all you have to do is take a right up here and go straight," she implied. "Then go straight." "Thanks," I said. "So, who are you?" "The name's Dakota," She said. "Call me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. I'm the Rebel around at middle school. And you?" "Well...I'm Jacklyn," I replied. "Call me Jackie. I'm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;-the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;uhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;...New girl in middle school." "So, Kyla must pick on you." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; added. "Who?" I asked. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Y'know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;? The brat who lives next-door to your locker who thinks she's all that?" She mentioned. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;How'd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; you know?" I quizzed. "My best friend, Lexie used to be locker-mates with her," She said with a shudder. "Not the prettiest thing ever." I didn't even realize it, but while talking, we were walking to the library. It looked old and almost abandoned. "Well, don't worry about the scenery from here," &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; advised. "The library is actually quite a cozy place. Well, see &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ya'll&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;tomorrow!" "Bye." I implied. Walking in, the place looked very...Uh...homely. It wasn't the prettiest library ever, but it was quite comfy. As I searched the shelves, I found a book on the American Girl section, about the 1970's character, Julie. My dad bought the doll for me for Christmas, and it's sitting on my little rocking chair in my room. I sat down to read it, and someone else sat down across from me. I was swinging my feet, and so was the other person. Soon, we were playing footsie under the table. I took a peek over my book, and the person was a&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;boy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;! And a really cute one, too! He had a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;mophead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;blonde&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; and brown hair, and the bluest blue eyes I've &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;seen! I could feel my face turning red, so I hid back behind my book, mostly because he was about to take a peek, too. "Hey." He said with a wink of his ocean-blue eye. My hands felt so weak, that I almost dropped my book. "H-h...Hi." I replied in a dorky, I-really-extremely-like-you voice. I could almost hear "You Belong with Me" by Taylor Swift playing in my head. My face, I could feel, was probably beet red, but at the time, I didn't care. "You come around often?" He asked me. I could rarely speak without sounding like a geek. "N-n-no, b-but I-I'm...Thinking about it!" I stuttered. "Great. Hey, did you get my invite to see ya at three?" He added. "I think so...but I was a bit&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;uhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;...unsure." I implied. "I got a note like that years ago, and a bunch of populars poured water on me." "I can see that." He mumbled. I asked him what he said, and he replied, "Nothing." All the sudden, this random girl just sat next to me. She blurted "Oh hi, Skylar and...What's your name?" "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Uhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;...Jackie." I replied, shaking her hand. "I'm Lexie, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Massabesic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; Middle school student," She announced as she flung my arm up and down. "And...I see you're already making friends. But &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;y'know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, the library's gonna close soon, so-" "Actually, this place is open for another two hours." The librarian interrupted. Her face turned quite red. "Yeah, but the library's a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;boring &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;place to be. Am I right, people?" "Get outta here, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Lex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;." Skylar added. "Yeah, just leave." I mimicked. Randomly, she grabbed my arm and and tried to run out of the library. "Wait!" I bellowed. "I need to check this book out first." "Fine!" She responded. "But be quick!" So I walked up to the librarian's desk to check out my Julie book plus a few others. As she checked them out, I walked up to Skylar and said. "I'm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;so &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;sorry about that. I don't even know that girl. But I gotta go. Kay?" "Oh, I don't mind," he implied. "Every person has to eventually leave to go to another wonder of this world." I blushed and giggled, all at once (Which by the way, is actually very hard to do.) I grabbed my books and said, "See ya!" With a joyful chime. I walked out with Lexie, and I asked her where we're going. "To...The skate park! You're gonna &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;love &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;it down there!" As she walked and I skated, I had that feeling of anger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;inside of me. Probably because she interrupted me from a great moment. Once we got there, the only people there were a few middle-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;school kids&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. Good for me. I picked up my skateboard and walked to the half-pipe. Lexie came with me. She took a skateboard out of a rental shack nearby, and rode down the half-pipe. "Why did you want me away from the library?" I asked her. "What?" She replied. "I said-" I was about to blow up, but she answered with, "The kid you were talking to is a jerk." "No he isn't," I said. "He is actually quite the gentleman. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;And&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; the most &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;mannerly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; person I've met since moving here." "Well, that explains a lot," Someone out of nowhere rebuked. I canvassed around, and it was Dakota. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Whatcha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; '&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;talkin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; 'bout?" "Skylar the traitor." Lexie said. "You mean the Rattlesnake with blue eyes? Oh, I hate him!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;exclaimed. "Well, she just moved here, so we should give her a break." Lexie advised&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Well excuse ME! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. This&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; is what I meant when I said he's the most &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;mannerly&lt;/span&gt; person I've met! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"What's so bad about him?" I blurted. Both of them immediately turned their heads to me. "You should explain it," Lexie whispered to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. "You do it better than me." "Well, it's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;uhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;...how can I put this...a bit...awkward to explain..." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; said quietly. "Just get to the point already !" I exclaimed. Then &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; started, "Well, ever since Skylar and his sister moved here, which I think was the first grade, they've been total jerks to every person in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Waterboro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; Elementary and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Massabesic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;!" "But he's not a jerk to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;." I interrupted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; sighed. "Just listen, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;kay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;?" She scolded. "Anyway, that exactly the point. What he does is...well, every girl falls for him, and then he breaks her heart. Because the girl was so tricked, it's a nine out of ten chance that she'll tell that traitor most of her &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;uhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;...personal information. Then, if she hates him, he'll bash her on his blog, Simply Skylar." "Why is it awkward to talk about?" I asked. "Well.." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;Kota&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; started as Lexie practically wilted like a flower. "Lexie was the first to fall for him. After she hated him, he posted about...well, how her family's so poor." "Yeah right!" I said, picking up my skateboard. "Anyway, my dad's probably waiting for me at home. Peace out." Walking away, Lexie whispered, "Well, looks like it's another unlucky victim is walking away. Little does that poor thing know 'bout her future." But I just kept on walking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-358231109148222028?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/358231109148222028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/09/dancing-in-rain-4-girl-meets.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/358231109148222028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/358231109148222028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/09/dancing-in-rain-4-girl-meets.html' title='Dancing in the Rain: 4. Girl meets skateboard....And traitor.'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-1802688909414702842</id><published>2009-09-13T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:51:30.456-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jackie'/><title type='text'>Dancing in the Rain: 3. "Under the Table...Literally."</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I wasn't ready to wake up. Really. I woke up at 6:30, and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;could've&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; gone another hour or two. But Josh's Country radio alarm was blared to its highest point, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; (I think I'll just call her Diane for now on) and dad were fighting, Drew was well...Drew, and Leah was exercising in the middle of the room with Group 1 Crew playing, so going to sleep would be a one out of a million chance. I just jumped out of bed, threw my clothes on, tied my hair in a ponytail, and ran downstairs to do the rest. As I was eating breakfast, Drew walked in and sat down with only a water. "What's up with the light breakfast?" I asked him. "I get a nervous stomach like a newborn cries," He answered. "Therefore, when I get a nervous stomach, I know it's not from my food." Sadly, just sadly, Josh heard us talking. "Wimp!" He shouted. I waved my fist at him, but Drew replied, "Don't worry, sis. I'm used to it." I put my fist down and walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth, do my Clean and Clear...Yeah, all that. After that, I grabbed the lunch I made last night from the fridge and sat outside, waiting for the bus. I didn't say goodbye to dad, because he left for work, and Diane...Well, that's a bit of a no-brainier. I waited about thirty minutes before the bus stopped in my driveway. I grabbed my backpack and dashed to the bus, right before Drew did. I was stopped by the bus driver. "Your seat is the second row, right seat." He said, pointing to the seats. He wrote it on a slip of paper and handed it to me, but I could memorize it easily. I'll think of Peter Pan. (Get it? Second star to the Right? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;HAHA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;!! Oh. That was bad.) I sat down to the seat closest to the window and threw the hood to my black jacket on. I didn't want the whoever was going to sit next to me to see my face. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;That'd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; be really embarrassing. After fifteen minutes, the bus stopped to pick a few other kids. After I heard, "Your seat is second row, right seat" To another lid, then my stomach &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; started to ache. As the kid sat down, my hands started to uncontrollably twitch. "Hey," A friendly voice whispered. "You alright?" I looked up, and I gazed at a boy with brown eyes like Hershey kisses in the light, and his "mop head" hair reminded me of the vanilla frosting on my cupcakes that I had on my tenth birthday. "I'm fine," I replied, as I could feel my face turning red. "Just...Nervous." "Yeah," He said. "So am I. By the way the name's Timothy. Call me Tim." He held out his hand to shake mine. "My name's Jacklyn," I said, holding out my hand. "Call me Jackie." As we shook hands, my face grew hotter and redder by the second. "You look a bit &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;uhh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;...Red." Tim said. "Do you have like, a fever or...what?" "No," I replied. "It's still nervousness." "Right," He inferred. "I'm guessing you moved here a bit ago?" "Actually, I did." I foretold. After about ten minutes, the bus finally arrived at the school. My stomach calmed down, but I was still nervous. Walking in, I made sure no one was staring at me, so I threw my hood back on. After some random adult showed me to my locker, I packed everything I had in my backpack to my locker. All the sudden, a girl, a bit taller than me, with Asian skin, short black hair and brown eyes, walked up the locker next to me. "Hi," I said, trying to be the friendliest I could. "I'm Jackie. Are you new here?" "No," She remarked. "I'm the team captain of the swim team. And I don't know what a petty seventh-grader like you would be doing here. So move, you're blocking my locker." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Just what I didn't want, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. I stacked my books in my locker, and moved to my first class, which was Science. I was ready to about fall asleep. "Good morning, class." the teacher said. "My name is Miss Mandela, and I will be your science teacher for the rest of the year." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Figures. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. I just sat still in my seat, but soon, somebody passed me a note. It read this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Dear Jacklyn,&lt;br /&gt;Meet me in the Library, 3:00. Don't be late!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Signed,&lt;br /&gt;Good luck figuring that out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I ain't gonna fall for that!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; I thought. I received letters like these in the fifth grade, and they ended up to be a bunch of self-centered Goddess Girls that poured water on me. It hurts, trust me. "So, although, it is true that God made the Earth," Miss Mandela implied. "But every day was almost like one thousand years. That is why recycling and saving water is important to this Earth." I raised my hand. "Yes, Jacklyn?" She fumed. "Well, that's not really true." I commented. "And, how so?" She asked me. "Well, plants are supposed to survive by spreading pollen from one of its kind to another, and they can't do that without animals." I concurred "Go on." "So, since animals weren't made before plants, there's absolutely no &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;way &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;there'd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; be flowers and trees today. Every day was exactly twenty-four hours." "Let me check," Miss Mandela affirmed. She picked up a huge book and flipped through the pages one by one. Meanwhile, I heard kids giggling an "Hi," d jeering under their breath. Miss Mandela looked up to me and replied, "I am very sorry, class. Jacklyn was right. For this she will receive an automatic A+. Congratulations, dear." The room was immediately silent. One kid, I think it was Tim, started clapping, and the another kid, and another kid, and soon enough, the whole class was in applause. Well, I guess &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;was my fifteen seconds of fame. "Now, shall we go on?" Miss Mandela interrupted. Through the rest of the day, I understood anything and everything clearly. Until lunch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I looked around for a good table to sit at lunch, but nothing was available. Then I found a table with five girls wearing really eye-catching clothes and perfect hair without a strand out of place. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Just be yourself, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;It isn't &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;hard, is it? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I sat down, and the girls stopped talking. "Hi," I informed, trying to be the most polite person I could be. "I'm Jackie." One of the girls rolled her eyes and grunted. All of them say up and moved to another table OF WHICH I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT. Then I felt a lump in my throat. I took a peek into my lunch bag, and there was a can of grapes, a ham-tomato-and cheese sandwich, a thermos bottle with a strawberry-banana smoothie in it, an apple, some crackers, and two M&amp;amp;M cookies. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;This took me all day to prepare, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought, as a tear rolled down my left cheek. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;and yet now, I can't enjoy it with anyone. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Then I spotted six boys, too distracted to see where they were going, walking up to my table. I slid myself under the table so I wouldn't have to waste my time finding another table. I also noticed that Drew was in the group, and I didn't want to ruin this for him, since he's been struggling all his life to find a friend or two. Once they sat down, I was as still as a doll, carefully sipping my smoothie silently. "Dude, I've heard that this place didn't even &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;have &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;a cafeteria!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;That's because it wasn't built yet, retard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. "I have to admit, this place is pretty tricked out compared to Frisbee. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Sounds like something &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;would say. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought, taking a quiet bite out of my grape. I noticed that Tim, my bus partner was the leader of the group. I looked around (By the way, not too much of a wonderful view from under a table.) And gazed at a girl, the one next to my locker, at a table with a bunch of other girls with jackets the colors of green and white, which, as I thought obvious, were the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;jockettes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. It looked fun to be in that group. I did like the idea of sports. And what the heck, I'm new here, and I need to get a hobby around here. That might just help me break out and be a star...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-1802688909414702842?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/1802688909414702842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/09/dancing-in-rain-3-under-tableliterally.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/1802688909414702842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/1802688909414702842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/09/dancing-in-rain-3-under-tableliterally.html' title='Dancing in the Rain: 3. &quot;Under the Table...Literally.&quot;'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-3129208216472108676</id><published>2009-08-03T12:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:54:07.534-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jackie'/><title type='text'>Dancing in the Rain: 2. "Out on the open Road!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;A loud blast of my favorite song, "Live Free" by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Lecrae&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, shot through my ears. "She's up, mom!" Whitney exclaimed. I realized that Whitney had put a pair of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;earbuds&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; in my ears, turned on the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;iPod&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; touch, and blasted it all the way. "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, what was &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;that &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;for?" I shouted. "You fell asleep in the van," Mom...Excuse me, my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;said. "We were afraid you were dead. Now get some breakfast, sweetie." I sighed and grabbed a granola bar out of my carry-on. I was about to get a glass of water, but there was a glass, water and ice, untouched, on the table. I sat down, and as I was unwrapping my granola bar, Drew set his Trix cereal down next to me. The both of us ate our breakfast in an awkward silence. "So, how's life with m-m-mom?" He said. I knew he was trying to break the ice. And I also noticed that it was hard for him to call our&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, "Mom." I slid a bit closer to him. "Why ask?" I said quietly. "You &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;know &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;that I don't like her." "How come?" He asked. I leaned in and whispered, "Would you want your mom reading your diary and looking over your shoulder when you're on the computer &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;EVERY DAY?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;" I slid back into my seat and finished my granola bar. I threw my granola bar wrapper in the trash, and changed into a t-shirt with all of my friends names on it, and a pair of destroyed jeans with paint splattered on them. When I walked out of the bathroom, there was a you're-not-really-wearing-that look on my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;stepmom's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;face. I rolled my eyes and sat myself on the couch,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;arms crossed&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; "Honey, take those clothes off," My &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;lectured. "You look like you just built our house." I kept myself silent. If I responded to her, she'd kill me. I picked&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;up my diary and a pencil and wrote:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Dear Diary,&lt;br /&gt;It's been only an hour on the road, and I already hate it. My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt; hates my outfit, and it's so boring out here! And I think the dude next to us is going faster than we are! I just &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;hate &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;it out here. Dad isn't on the bus. Instead, he's on Whitney's car. So it's just me, Whitney, Drew, Josh, and my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt;. And to think, I just woke up. :P Amazing, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I closed my diary and looked out the window. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Well, maybe Maine won't be too bad, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Maybe Maine might have a few surprises to it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;We stopped at a parking lot in Connecticut to eat our lunch. "So, what's for lunch, pops?" Drew asked dad. Dad shushed him because he was on a phone call. Our lunch turned out to me Potato salad in a sandwich. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Eww&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. But luckily, Drew secretly packed his special trail mix. His trail mix has m&amp;amp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;m's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, cashews, chocolate chunks, almonds and pretzel pieces in it. Yum. After a few minutes, me and Drew hopped back into the RV, waiting for the rest of the family to get back on the road. While waiting, I took out my digital camera and looked at the pictures from the good-bye party. But Josh took it away from me. "Hey!" I shouted. "Give it back!" "Make me!" Josh responded. Drew popped up and pinched his pressure point. "Ouch!" Josh howled as Drew took the camera from Josh's grasp. "Go along!" Drew shouted as he threw the camera to me. I caught the camera and put it in my pocket. I ran back inside the RV and hopped in the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;front seat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;. I grabbed my Diary and wrote,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Dear Diary,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This day just got worse. I had a potato salad-stuffed sandwich. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Eww&lt;/span&gt;. My stepbrother, Josh, tried to take my digital camera. My dad is stuck on the phone...Again.I just hope that Maine is worth my trouble. I hope...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;Mom...Excuse me, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, went back into the RV and started it. Whitney and Leah were right behind her. The RV was back on the road in no time. After a few more hours, we finally arrived in Maine. It was about Seven Thirty when we arrived at our house. Dad, Drew and Josh carried the big stuff, like mattresses, furniture, and other stuff, while me, Whitney and Leah carried our bedding and clothes. We had to sleep in the RV because it would take a while before moving everything in. But I didn't care--At least I was in Maine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;It took the family most of August to rearrange and set up everything in our house. I collapsed onto my bed with my red &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;PJ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; pants and black tank top on me. Whitney walked into my room with her car keys. "You wanna take a ride around town?" She asked me. It was three in the afternoon, and I didn't have anything better to do. "Sure," I said. "Let me just change into my jeans." "Okay," She responded. "I'll wait outside your door." I changed into my almost-destroyed jeans, and slipped my pink flip-flops on. Whitney was downstairs, waiting for me to come. "You ready to go?" She asked me. "Yep," I replied. "All prepared." "Okay," she said. "Dad! Is it okay if I take the van out for a spin?" "Sure," He responded. "But be careful...And don't get lost." I hopped into shotgun as Whitney started the car. As we drove out of our driveway, She asked me, "What do you wanna do when we get home?" "I don't know," I said. "Maybe we could...Choose our outfits," She inquired. "That could occupy our time." "Maybe we can fix our lunches for tomorrow," I added. "Or just do both." "Yeah," Whitney agreed. "That's cool." "So," I said, trying to start a conversation. "Are you afraid of the new school you're going to tomorrow?" "Yeah," She replied. "I'm a Junior in high school now, so even at this age, I still get nervous." "Maybe you'll find a great guy while you're here." I said. While our real mom's quote was, "Take your Time," Our &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; forced Whitney to get a guy at Sixteen. And that's how old she is now. "You nervous?" She asked me. "Why wouldn't I be? Junior high is pretty rough, and I'm afraid of what might happen." "Don't worry about it," Whitney said. "You have God. And as long as you have him, You'll be fine." After another fifteen minutes, we were back home, and we forgot something. "So what about our clothes and lunch?" I asked Whitney. "Oh," She said. "I completely forgot!" After a few giggles and thirty minutes, we put completed our dream first-day-of-school lunch and put together our first-day-of-school outfits. I chose a black short-sleeved &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;shirt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; with headphone graphics on it, a pair of dark denim straight-leg jeans, a pair of hot-pink volleys, and a gray fedora. Whitney chose a maroon &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;scoop neck&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; tunic with a dark-brown belt, a pair of below-the-knee jean &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;capris&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;, and light-brown colored boots. "Girls!" my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;stepmom&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;shouted. "Time for bed!" After I kissed my parents goodnight, I slipped my red&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);" class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;PJ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt; pants on and hopped into bed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I know tomorrow won't be easy, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I thought. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;em style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;But you've got God, right?You'll be fine, Jack. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I let the thoughts run through my head, and I, once again, fell asleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-3129208216472108676?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/3129208216472108676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/08/dancing-in-rain-2-out-on-open-road.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/3129208216472108676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/3129208216472108676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/08/dancing-in-rain-2-out-on-open-road.html' title='Dancing in the Rain: 2. &quot;Out on the open Road!&quot;'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2096265160691121479.post-3589278808065161388</id><published>2009-08-01T03:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T12:54:37.992-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jackie'/><title type='text'>Dancing in the rain: 1. Just another horrible Day....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;"I can't believe you're moving, Jackie." Ruby said to me, as we were laying on the grassy ground, looking at the clouds. "Well, ever since dad got a job at Anthem, he's been making plans to move to Maine," I replied. "But it's like, the coldest state in the Country." "Well, it gets cold down here too." Ruby corrected. "Well, it can be a hundred degrees in Maine, and I'll still miss you," I said, rolling onto my side. "Besides, God's already stripped away half of my life." "Don't judge God!" Ruby lectured, rolling onto her side. But even &lt;em&gt;she &lt;/em&gt;knew it was true. My favorite mom in the world died in a car accident, so God replaced her with a snoopy step mom. My dad loves his job so much, that he ignores the whole family. (Except for step mom! DUH!) It was hard enough to share a room with Whitney. Now I have to share a room with her &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;my hyper stepsister, Leah. I also have two new brothers: My thirteen-year-old stepbrother Drew, who is extremely silent, and my eleven-year-old stepbrother Josh, who is a thorn in my side. Drew is one of those kids who has a hairstyle called a "Mop head." &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Y'know&lt;/span&gt;, when a boy's hair is like, three inches longer than average? Yeah, that style. Now I have another horrible change to add to my change list: I have to move from Pennsylvania to Maine. As I packed up the items in my room, I came across a scrapbook. It had a picture of me, Whitney, dad, and my &lt;em&gt;actual &lt;/em&gt;mom on the first page. In cursive letters on top of the first page, it said, "The Dramatic and Exciting adventures of the Thompson family." I flipped through the pages for a while, but I mostly paid attention to the pictures of mom. She had soft but vibrant blue eyes, and chocolate brown hair like a Hershey's bar, and an independent spirit. What did I have? I have layered &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;blonde&lt;/span&gt; hair, which is wavy from top to bottom; I have blue eyes, like, as dad would say, "Two shining seas." As I closed the scrapbook, a drop of water dripped on the plastic cover. It was one of my tears. I knew that dad didn't want to be reminded of mom, but that scrapbook is the only memory of mom I had. So I quickly stored it with my other books, and closed the box. "Hey, Jackie." Someone behind me said. I turned my head to see it was Whitney in her black tank top and her Seattle wash jeans. "What are you doing here?" I asked her. "You mean I can't walk into my own room?" She said. "Now &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;c'mon&lt;/span&gt;, I promised miss Step mom that I'd take you, Drew, Josh, and Leah to shop. I slipped on my ballet flats and hopped into the shotgun of Whitney's KIA van. I knew that Leah deserved the front seat more than I did. But really, I don't wanna sit next to Josh while he poked me, twisted my arm, or pulled my hair. When Whitney started the car, I turned on Air1, my favorite radio station in the whole world. But then Josh let out a hoot. "Aw man!" He shouted. "I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hate&lt;/span&gt; this station!" &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That &lt;/span&gt;ticked me off. "Well, it's what you're getting." Whitney lectured. "Fine." Josh mumbled as he crossed his arms across his chest. I could see Drew from the rear-view mirror; he was looking out his window as he cradled his head in one of his hands. Honestly, I feel &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;horrible&lt;/span&gt; for him. I've never seen him smile. Maybe a slight grin, but never a smile. But anyway, Whitney parked herself at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;JC&lt;/span&gt; Penny, and I urged myself out of the car because I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so &lt;/span&gt;tired. And because I was tired, I got a bit left behind walking into the store. Luckily, Drew wasn't far from me, so I caught up with him. The first part of the store we went to was the Juniors' section. Josh was complaining at the top of his lungs, but Drew pinched one of his pressure points. "Ow!" Josh shouted. "What was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;for?" Drew, being the silent one, just shrugged his shoulders. "Hey Leah," Whitney said, giving her half of her money. "You don't mind watching the guys while I take Jackie to the girls' section, do ya?" "Nah! I don't mind!" Leah exclaimed. "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;C'mon&lt;/span&gt; skippers! Let's get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;cha&lt;/span&gt; some apparel!" As Leah skipped down the isle, Whitney picked up some clothes and went to the girls' section. "Aren't you gonna try those clothes on first?" I asked her. "I will," She said, inspecting some skinny jeans. "In the girls' fitting room." I tried on a pair of size 14 slim jeans, a red top with a black vest and a plaid scarf. I also tried on a black tank top, a pair of black and gold sweat pants, a black sweater, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;another &lt;/span&gt;pair of jeans with rhinestones on them...Endless shopping. Whitney already tried &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;her &lt;/span&gt;clothes on, so we decided to see how the boys were doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey, guys!" Leah exclaimed. "Hey," Whitney responded. "So, how are the boys '&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;doin&lt;/span&gt;?" Drew walked out of the dressing room in a plaid shirt with the sleeves at the elbows; he also had a pair of light straight jeans. Josh came out with some practically destroyed jeans and a shirt that said, "I have a million excuses. which one do you wanna hear?" "I guess it depends." I said, drawing my eye towards Drew's outfit. "Which brother?" Whitney gave me that oh-be-quiet look. I immediately sealed my mouth shut until the shopping trip was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~~~~~~~~~~~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I was forced to listen to country music because of my big-mouthed stepbrother, and I hated it. Fortunately, Whitney let me listen to her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;iPod&lt;/span&gt; touch, so I listened to that for a long time. Instead of being in shotgun with Whitney, I was in the backseat with Drew. "Could I have one of your ear buds?" He asked me. Well, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that &lt;/span&gt;was a first. I've never heard him talk before. "Sure," I said, taking out my left ear bud. "Put this in your left ear, so it won't fall out when we move." "So why is it that you hog the earphones when &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;want them, but you gladly share them when &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he &lt;/span&gt;wants them?" Josh complained. "Because &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he &lt;/span&gt;doesn't drop them in the toilet!" I replied. drew started chuckling a bit. That's a first, too. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;YAY&lt;/span&gt;!! &lt;/span&gt;I thought. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm being a good sister! &lt;/span&gt;Once we got home, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;I grabbed a bag, ran inside, and collapsed onto the couch. after a while, I packed up my clothes and slipped my PJ's on. "Honey!" Dad shouted. "Can you bring your box into the RV?" "Sure," I replied. "No problem." Since I couldn't find the my PJ's top, I threw my black tank top on. Luckily, it matched the red &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;PJ&lt;/span&gt; pants I had on. I slipped my black Converse shoes on, picked up my box, and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 51, 0);"&gt;trudged outside. I threw the box into the moving trailer, and took out my digital camera. I took a picture of my house, since it would be the last time I'd see it. I decided to hop into the RV, and collapsed on the couch in there. I flipped through the pictures of the good-bye party our family had a week ago. I looked at the photos of me, Ruby, and my other friend, Michelle. I could feel a lump in my throat, and started crying. I set the camera down and flipped sideways on the couch. After a few minutes, I could barely keep my eyes open, and I fell asleep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2096265160691121479-3589278808065161388?l=thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/feeds/3589278808065161388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/08/dancing-in-rain-1-just-another-horrible.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/3589278808065161388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2096265160691121479/posts/default/3589278808065161388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thegirlzoffaithseries.blogspot.com/2009/08/dancing-in-rain-1-just-another-horrible.html' title='Dancing in the rain: 1. Just another horrible Day....'/><author><name>Karen Twombly</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mIQZnbk4qms/TbLwdP3uMvI/AAAAAAAAAfw/YUm1gJ_eKZo/s220/karent.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
