Write about a pair of best friends.
Archives for May 23, 2021
The One-Way Conversation, a story by Lauren, 11
Lauren Manca, 11 My family’s house in Connecticut was massive. It had a huge green backyard, with the woods behind it. You could often find my family in the sunroom, where so much light comes in. It was a great place to relax, but also it was good if you kind of just wanted a little alone time. The almost constant sunshine made it a serene area, a room where only good energy may enter. But, with a horse ranch as our neighbors, and the nearest stores 20 miles away with not a child in sight, I was lonely. I would wake up and go about my daily routine, doing school work, eating food, playing, and going to sleep, but I did it with little laughter and emotion. I didn’t have a way to communicate with those who made me laugh the most. I watched the news, the horrifying knowledge of the COVID-19 creeping into my mind. I was terrified of the growing sickness, but mostly the fact that we didn’t know when it would be over. This was the time I needed my friends most. I loved being with my family, but sometimes I just wished I had a friend with me. There were days when I would just kind of wander aimlessly around the house, wishing for my friend to appear in front of my very eyes. Of course, that never happened. I continued to see the news about the coronavirus, the frightening disease already spreading across the world. I was scared about what might happen to us, and with no one my age to talk with, I was sad and unhappy. Sometimes I would bike down the road with my older sister, Chloe, and my dog, Willy, saying hello to the horses next door. I would often stop in the small clearing and watch them for about five minutes before leaving to go back home. They looked so peaceful, so happy. I wished I was able to ride them, but of course, they weren’t mine. I had ridden a horse a few times before, and I liked it. But now, the ranch was closed due to COVID-19. During that time I only felt trapped, trying to find my way out of an isolated place, with no way to reach out to anyone. My family had come up to Connecticut from Manhattan, New York, in order to escape the chaos of the growing covid. I was used to the loud sirens of ambulances driving up the street to go to Mount Sinai, the chatter of kids walking home from school, and the occasional taxi honk. I missed that. Up in Connecticut, the only sounds to be heard were birds chirping and trees swaying. There were a few passing cars once in a while, coming from a little down the road where the other residents live. I hadn’t seen almost any people, they decided to lock themselves in their houses out of fear of the COVID-19. I was so desperate, I would’ve settled for seeing a stranger, a kid who I had never seen before. I was disappointed, because that never happened. Wilbur road was filled with life, but unfortunately, not much of it was human. “I’m gonna go text Alex!” I called to my mom. She was sitting at her desk, working away. She nodded and responded with, “Go ahead.” I ran out of the room and picked up my computer, opening Hangouts. I typed in our chat, Hi, Alex. How are you doing? And waited for him to respond. The house smelled of fresh air and sometimes delicious food, and I was serene. I tapped on the computer keys, waiting for a response from Alex. His little profile picture showed that he wasn’t even on the site. I frowned. This had been happening for the past few days, and I was a little annoyed now. I would text Alex, wait for a response, then just sit there for a little. He might respond the next day, but only a simple, Hi. Bye. I crossed my legs, waiting and waiting. My other friends kept in close contact, but since they had some little things to do, they were sometimes busy. Alex on the other hand, I hadn’t heard from in a while. He was my best friend since Pre-K, and I was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t talk to me. The sound of a soft breeze echoed through the house, momentarily calming me. I ran through a few scenarios in my mind. Maybe he has a family matter, or…a class! But I knew the latter wasn’t the case. All businesses had been shut down because of COVID-19, so he wouldn’t be outside. I thought some more. It’s possible that he just forgot about our chat and didn’t see my messages. That wasn’t it either. Every time I would text him, I would check the next day and it would say that he read it. But, he didn’t respond. I frowned. Maybe it’s just a temporary thing, I thought. I mean, it had only been going on a few days, so he’d probably text me soon. I still sat. I clasped my hands in my lap, biting my lip. I checked my messages again. Nothing. Not even one little, “hello.” I was nervous to leave the screen because I thought that once I was gone he’d text, and if I didn’t respond Alex would leave the Hangout again, so I waited some more. The computer was warm against my fingers from constant use, but the house was a little on the chilly side. I kicked my legs back and forth, making a very annoying sound. I expected someone to say something, but they weren’t watching, so I went back to observing Hangouts. I clicked on my other chats, but no recent messages. I cracked my knuckles. Someone had to text me sooner or later. A letter might be nice. It wasn’t only Alex, though. I had lost
The Dreaded Blood Test, a personal narrative by Eleanor, 11
Eleanor Resurreccion At the time, I was just three years old. My mom, the doctor, and me. The doctor approached me with the flu shot in her hand, and I squirmed in my seat. She got the shot ready, and gently took my arm. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited… I yanked my arm away just as the needle entered my arm. I had not gotten the shot, but I felt a small pain, like a pinch. My mom nudged me back towards the doctor for me to get my flu shot. This time, I didn’t run away, and the needle entered my arm and came out without any protest. I squeezed my eyes shut. That wasn’t going to happen this time, I promised myself. Even though that had been eight years ago, that memory haunted me, and even though I could get a shot without getting freaked out, the idea of small pains from needles still made me flinch, so a blood test was exactly what I didn’t need. “I have to get a blood test?” I asked my mom. “Yes, they are going to do some blood work, and you can be tested for Coronavirus antibodies.” I groaned. I hadn’t gotten a blood test for as long as I could remember, but I knew that I had had one when I was a baby. My stomach turned and I tasted bile forming in my mouth. Was I going to throw up? I gulped. I closed my eyes and counted to three. Better. I trudged over to the couch and plunked down. My mom sat next to me and put her arm around my shoulders. Her medium length brown hair tickled my neck. She stroked my hair. Her serene presence always seemed to relax me when I needed it most. I sighed. I was glad to have her around. I should feel fortunate, I thought. I was lucky to be getting a COVID-19 test. “Well,” I said, mustering courage. “No time to worry about this now.” I masked my worry with a smile and marched out of the room. The following day, Jamie tried and tried to assure me that it would be nothing. “It barely hurts, besides, blood is cool!” my brother exclaimed! I sighed. My brother loves the way his blood looks, and he has had many blood tests because of his allergies and asthma. This was no different for him I thought. He smiled. I frowned. That morning, my parents had gone to get their tests. My mom tried to tell me there was nothing to worry about. “You don’t have to look, and once the needle is in, it doesn’t hurt,” she assured me. “All you have to do is hydrate, before.” “What?” I asked, confused. “I wasn’t hydrated enough, so when they took the blood test, they had to switch arms because no blood was coming out of the first arm.” I groaned. That didn’t help at all! I imagined the nurse sticking the needle in all over my arm, trying to find a satisfactory vein. Millions of tiny pricks of pain all over my arm. I shuddered. We walked to the doctor’s for our checkups during the afternoon, so the hot summer sun was high in the sky. My mask rubbed up against my face and tickled my nose. The sun’s rays burned on my back. We had to wait our turn when we got to the doctor’s office, and the hard plastic chairs that we sat on were cool against my bare legs. When it finally came time for me to take my blood test, I walked, timidly to a room with two chairs. A counter with various medical supplies and tools took up half of the room. I looked around and sat down in one of the chairs. My mom sat next to me. She gripped my hand and whispered in my ear. “It will be ok. Nothing awful will happen.” I felt goosebumps forming on my arms. Was the air conditioning on too much? A large amount of saliva collected in my mouth. I swallowed. I glanced around the room again. Everything was a shade of white – The counter, the shelfs, the chairs, the floor, the wall. I frowned with distaste. I heard the footsteps of nurses and doctors in the hall. Then, the nurse entered the room. A surge of panic rushed through my body. I tried to keep the panic down, but the best I could manage was following her directions without any protest. The nurse tied a band on my arm and located a favorable vein in the bend of my arm. She inserted the needle in my arm, and my blood flowed out. Despite my mom’s advice about not looking at my own blood, I stared, mesmerized by the steady stream. The nurse finally took the needle out after what seemed to be forever, and she fastened a piece of gauze to the injection site. “Do you feel light headed?” she asked. I shook my head. I felt my arm gently. I recoiled my hand. My mom touched my hand. “It wasn’t so dreadful, was it.” My mom stated. I rolled my eyes. I guess she was right about it not hurting.The doctor entered the room with the q tip and the container for my COVID19 test. He talked to my mom for a little bit before giving me the COVID19 test. I watched him with beady eyes, one eye on the q tip in his hand. “This will be a little uncomfortable,” he said. I nodded and sat up straighter. This wasn’t going to hurt I thought. I gripped the edge of the seat and got ready. He gently put the q tip up my nose and counted to three for both nostrils. The inside of my nose tingled, and my eyes watered, even though the q tip hadn’t gone up my nose that far. “See,” my mom said. “That wasn’t so
