Its a Friday, finally the workweek is over. she want to shoot for home to sleep. The week has drained her. she pass the freshman lockers, bargonly smiling as she watch the skinny boy fumble with his tying. All of his books atomic number 18 on the floor.
she remember being a freshman. It was a unwieldy transition, high school was.
Honors classes. Depression. A broken h atrial auriclet.A pretty misfire with thin blonde hair, layered to her shoulders waves at her as she walks with a girly trot down the hall. she smile back at her and recite See ya.
Im a Junior now. Everything is acquiring serious. Teachers tell her solemnly of college. They lecture of the evidence she will mesh at the end of the year. The test colleges will judge you on. The test you will prepare for all year. Im scared, save none of it has really hit her yet. she remember being a little girl and specifying 17 was so old, so cool. But as she walk now with her black binder pressed to her chest she dont really opinion cool, or old. she feel a little lost, and she think Im one of the only ones to feel that way. Sometimes she think of what she want to be. A writer? Maybe a nurse. What rough a Zoologist?
Then there is always her deepest dream, to be a doctor. Her mind fumbles over the options. Her heart is burdened by the unknown.
she see a good friend with his slumped walk. she smile at him widely. Text her, he says, smiling back. she will, she promise him, as a strand of reddish blonde hair falls in her face.
she hold on to her binder tightly with one overtake to keep it steady and brush the hair behind her ear with the other. she keep walking as everyone else flies by, their weekend to get to.
she get to the doors and she see him. We make eye contact for a moment, but it stretches on for miles. His busy eyes and furrowed brows are all she can see. He is so...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Orderessay
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