Rottisha Lewis

School: West Rocks Middle School
Grade: 8
2nd year at YWI
I came back to the Young Writer’s Institute because I think it is invigorating to be around people who write and are also older than you and know more complex way of writing so I get to experience people who are way better than me at writing firsthand. I get to experience different emotions in their writing and hopefully be able to be as good as them. You can’t get any better if you don’t have a reason to. I’ve actually met some really awesome people, they are funny and I can relate to them because here we are all young writers. There are some experiences that may have put me down but I know that when I keep trying I will get something done. Here I can learn that easily because young as when are, we do have different styles because we all come from different backgrounds. It is fun being here and I do hope to be here next year even if some of my friends aren’t.

He called me son often. I didn’t mind because I was one of his favorite students. During passing time I was excused to be late for class. Almost all the teachers knew about Mr. Brook’s plan and they were interested.

Back up off of me!” Leslie screamed in the hall. I took notes; she was having another yelling contest with some girl.

“Midget.” The girl hollered back

“You ain’t nothing but a punk. You’ve been saying that for the past five minutes.” Everyone said oh.

The girl flicked her hair. “Well I have a cat.”

“What, does that have to do with right now?” Leslie was getting heated at Riley.

“Yeah it’s black with white stripes.” Just then Leslie hurled herself at Riley and started punching her. I ran out from taking my notes and grabbed Leslie by her waist and heaved her off of Riley. Leslie was kicking to get back at her. She was aggravated. I held her tight so she wouldn’t break free. She was shouting some pretty evil things. As stunned as I was I was still stronger than she was.

Eventually she got tired and just hung around. “Let go…” she said to me. “please?” I looked down at her, into her eyes, as she stared at me, back into mines. I let her go.

After school she called somebody, anybody, I don’t know, She said she was going to the mall. I had to be there. I asked my brother for a ride and waited there until Leslie came in.

She was with Rodney. First they went to a jewelry store. I took a magazine and hid behind it. I watched as she picked out each ring and bracelet. She was at the front eyeing an earring. She looked over at me. “You look familiar.” She said. “Rodney, doesn’t he look like,”

“Yeah, What’s your name?”

“Uh, Henry.”

“Cute. See you around.”

They went to the shoe store, and then the food court. Leslie went to the bathroom and I went and sat with Rodney.

“Hi Henry.”

“I’m no Henry, Isn’t Rodney a boy’s name? What’s the deal with Leslie?”

“Who are you then?” she stood up.

“Craig.”

“I’ll make it quick… Leslie is self-conscience about how short she is. She only beats people up if they crack a short joke on her or bring it up. My dad wanted a boy.”

I wrote it down in my notebook. The day in the hallway. I thought