It was my last Slice Of Life for school. I wanted to continue this routine for ever! But it wouldn't count in school. I stared at my SOL #30, my master piece. A smile spread accross my face.
"This won't be my last." I encuraged. I wouldn't let all this work fade away, I just couldn't. this was now part of my life. It won't be my last, I thought. This was just one of the thouseands I would do. I had a new goal, I wouldn't stop at thirty, I would make it to 100! One-hundred Slices OF Life! I would make it!
It didn't matter if I had to write for 70 more days. I would write, and after that, 200. And then 300, and so on. Just 15 minutes of everyday. I won't be that last one, I thought. And it wasn't.
I strode out of the music room and into the WolfRoom. The smell of food waft throughout the room. I paced around the chairs and tables, not touching them. I looked out the window; a janitor leaned against the wall, staring at the trees out side. He was in his own world; the look that was placed on his face said everything. It was relaxed; it was like he was staring at a butterfly, like staring at something delicate and small. It was like he was seeing something no one else could see, an invisible treasure.
There was a gasp. A quick and sharp gasp that slashed through my thoughts like a knife through butter. The air was let go with a yelp and was replaced by another sharp gasp. I didn’t know were it came from or who had made it. I walked a little further. There he was, cringed into an uncomfortable position. He was on his knees, his arms wrapped around his stomach. His face red and tears slithering down his cheek. Brian lifted his dark eyes to gaze at me, his pained breathing echoing in my head.
“I…have…to…vomit…It hurts!” He said in between gasps. I just stared. This was Brian, the boy who annoyed me, the one that made fun of me for hanging out with boys instead of girls, and the one that I couldn’t stand in class. I remember that once, when he teased with the whole fact that my country’s president was causing a big commotion on the news.
“Hey! Ines! Are you with Chaves or Hitler?” he asked, containing his laugh with little success.
“None of your business.” I snapped back.
“”Oh, so you’re with Chaves? Ok!” He said laughing, he ran away, leaving me with my jaw open, but no words coming out.
I had always wanted to see him like that; I wanted to see him in pain for once, or maybe crying. That way I could prove that he wasn’t as manly as he claimed to be. I wanted to laugh; I wanted to laugh at him. I wanted to tell him he wasn’t so good anymore, that he was just like the rest of us.I wanted to laugh at the boy that had irritated me, the one that made my temper rise everyday. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t laugh. I would be so wicked, so wrong, so…not me. I couldn’t even move, I didn’t know what to do, should I help him up, or should I call a teacher? I couldn’t but feel bad for him. Feel bad for the fact that he was in pain. That he was for the first time without the same kind of energy. The energy that made him Brian.
“What’s going on here?” I grave voice said behind me. I didn’t but instinctively steal a glance from Mrs. Walker and then look back at Brian as Mrs. Walker came our way.
“He’s...going to throw up.” I whispered, like if I didn’t intend to let Mrs. Walker hear me.
“Well then, vomit in the bathroom.” She ordered. Brian stood up, his legs wobbling; he made his way to the bathroom. I walked, I don’t know why. I just see that I’m moving, I didn’t have any control over my legs. The image of Brian on the floor crying just kept on coming to me, I couldn’t push it away. I walked upstairs, my eyes locked on the floor. I wouldn’t be able to treat Brian the same anymore.
I´m sorry to say to the readers and followers of this blog that today I will not post my slice of life. Today, the first person I met in Panama died. I won´t write how or where or anything else. He just died. And I hope he rests in peace. I´m sorry.
We have too many high sounding words, and too few actions that correspond with them.
I choose this quote because it reflects a reality that all of us should face and try to change.
I think this quote means that people are always complaining about things and saying how bad things are, but they never take action to change whatever it is that is bothering them.
The drum gave the beat, the piano a little contrast of sound, and the guitar had the melody as we played our song; we knew the band was almost complete.
I play Piano and my favorite classical song is The 4 Seasons of Vivaldi and popular music is Viva la Vida. I have never gone on a rollercoaster and I realy don't like videogames that much. I like vanila and cookies and cream ice cream and cake but the only chocolate I like is Ferrero Rocher and Hershies cookies and cream white chocolate. I have a miniature french poodle called Bobby and my best friends are Paulina, Mehr, Mathieu, Guastavo Andres, Laura, Mariana, Estefania, and Thor. My favorite sport is tennis, my favorite color is brown, my favorite animal is the sloth and my favorite food is Creme Brule.
