It was Saturday afternoon, and I was bored. Hmmm, I thought, I wonder how long I can hold my breath. Before long, I started wheezing. Mom popped her head into my room and asked, “Tori, are you OK?” “Yeah, Mom, sorry. Just seeing how long I could hold my breath,” I replied. “Well, maybe don’t,” …
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The phone rang. “Caw, caw. Who caws the crow?” I answered. (It was Bird Day, celebrated by me.) “I don’t get it,” said a girl’s voice. It sounded like Kelly. “You know, because ‘caw’ sounds like ‘call,’” I explained. I hate having to explain my jokes. It happens all the time. “What do you want, …
“Who?” Olivia asked. “Do you see the small W’s in the sand?” I said. “Those are seagull tracks. A bird must have landed here and eaten your lunch while you were in the restroom. That’s why there are crumbs all over the sand.” “See, I told you.” Jay smirked. “I’m sorry, Jay,” Olivia said. She …
It was a nippy night in Boston of 1773. I had just left the Dartmouth because the number of pesky mice to chase around the ship had decreased dramatically. Being a cunning cat, I convinced the other felines to join me on the wharf. Pardon me; did I forget to introduce myself? Well, how forgetful …
Bright morning sunlight lanced gracefully into the forest. In his hole halfway up a great hemlock, Amison awakened. Hopping out, he blinked in the early sunlight. The downy woodpecker smiled. After a long, cold winter, spring had finally arrived. He fluffed his black-and-white plumage. The red spot on the back of his head glistened brightly. …
“Come on,” Olivia said, “it will be fun.” “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think I can do it.” “Please,” Olivia pleaded. “It’s not hard, we can practice first. Plus, Connie will be our coach.” I couldn’t figure out what was so great about soccer. Then again, there’s a first time for everything, so …
There is always part of a story, That is waiting to be told. And inside my head, Scenes constantly unfold. Sometimes it never stops, That story inside my head. It seems my train of thought, Works overtime in bed. When I try to go back to sleep, To return to my peaceful slumber, The stories’ …
Are you a good friend? Answer truthfully—don’t just pick the one you know is right. I let my friend talk without interrupting. True False
A good detective keeps her eyes open. Every detail is important when investigating a mystery. This year, the Odyssey library was holding an art show. I strolled past the tables, admiring the pictures and sculptures. Suddenly, Tori ran up to me. “Emily!” she cried. “I need your help!” “What happened?” I asked. “My painting won …