Memoir Essay

Rachel Randgaard

Writing a memoir... The thought kind of scared me at first. Because there are a lot of memories that are too difficult to share, for multiple reasons. My memories all put together creates a picture that is me, who I am today. Some of my memories are too difficult to share simply because of how that particular memory of a time with someone are meant for me and that person alone to remember, and sharing that memory would be like giving an important piece of the picture of both our lives away. Other parts are dark and difficult to see, and they hardly make any sense to me yet. I do have one memory though that is harmless to share. A memory that makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time, but most people would scoff at. A memory that happened a little more than five years ago...

I couldn’t sit still. Mom actually had threatened to glue me to my seat because I kept bouncing around so much. Of course my brother wasn’t much better than I was at this point, he couldn’t sit still either.

We were finally going to get a puppy.

I was so excited, my brother and I had been begging for a puppy for a few years now. Tonight dad had decided to let us get a puppy. Mom wasn’t really all that thrilled, she kept saying stuff like, “We’re not ready for a puppy! The house isn’t puppy-proofed, we don’t have any dog stuff like food, bowls, leashes collars!” It was beginning to kill the buzz that I had, but then dad convinced her that it was okay; we could just get that stuff the next day. So she quit talking about her concerns. She still didn’t think that we should get a puppy, but my enthusiasm was contagious, and mom soon was excited as well.

Finally dad stopped the truck; we were there.

The farmhouse that we had arrived at was a few miles outside of Renville. The smell of animals and hay was potent, but it was what I heard that made my heart race. I heard the sound of puppies coming from the garage. A woman walked out and talked with my dad for a bit, I wanted them to hurry because I wanted to see the puppies so badly.

Finally the woman turned to me, “Do you want to go see the puppies?” She asked.

“Yes!” I exclaimed bouncing up and down.

I felt like the woman was walking so slow. I wanted to run to my future companion, not walk. I refrained from being rude though. Finally we made it to the barn; the volume of the excited yips of the puppies increased. They were all in a little pen on the floor, running in and out of the tiny dog house in the pen to get food and water. There were six puppies in all, all boys; the girls had already been taken. Three of the puppies looked like normal black lab puppies. One looked like it was born with skin that was about two sizes too big, I watched it awkwardly waddle around and decided that that one wasn’t the one. The next one was absolutely huge, my dad and my brother wanted that one “Block-head” they nicknamed him. The woman selling the puppies told me that he weighed in at about twenty pounds, whereas his siblings weighed about ten to twelve pounds... Well, all except one.

The runt of the litter, weighing in at only eight pounds, was the most beautiful of them all. I crawled into the pen and the puppy ran to me. That was it.

He was the one. I felt like it was love at first sight. His eyes were the color of butterscotch, but his siblings all had dark muddy brown eyes. His fur had a strange brownish red tint in the right light; his siblings had flat black coats. He had long slender legs and a narrow face. His siblings all looked fat and chubby in comparison.

“So beautiful,” I murmured. I looked up at my parents as the puppy snuggled into my lap. “He’s the one.”

My parents looked at each other. “Why would you want the runt?” asked Mom. The puppy then, almost as if he knew what she was saying, looked at her with those big beautiful eyes. My brother whined, “But I want Block-Head!”

So now it came down to my dad. His decision was final. I could feel that if I didn’t do something, I, and ultimately the beautiful puppy would lose. I reluctantly put the little puppy in my dad’s arms. The puppy worked the rest of the magic, looking up almost adoringly at my dad; and though he could not speak with his mouth, the puppy spoke with his eyes to my dad. The seconds I waited for his answer felt like an eternity.

“Dad, he will be mine.” I finally said.

Dad then looked at me, then to mom, then to my brother, then to the lady selling the puppies and nodded.

I won. My brother wasn’t so thrilled. But I was certain that my brother had not had the connection with “Block-head” that I had with this puppy. It was as though something was telling me that if I didn’t take this puppy, he would suffer treatment of the cruelest kind.

We took him home and named him Spencer. A few weeks after we had brought him home we took him to the vet only to discover that Spencer had been born with digestive problems. We loved him anyway. He quickly found his way into my brother’s heart as well. Spencer was such a good dog, there will be no other like him.

Some people who worked with my parents came to see Spencer when he was about a year old. He was tall (his head came to about my waist), beautiful, smart, but still had that sickness. He was otherwise very healthy. The people that came to see Spencer told us, “If I had a dog that was as... deformed as he is, I would have put him to sleep.”

I made sure I never saw those people again. I loved Spencer so much, and no one  had the right to call him “deformed”. It was then that I knew I was right about bringing Spencer home. If I had not, he would never had a chance at life.

When Spencer did pass away... It was like a blow straight to the heart. I was there to watch him die, to hold his paw as the life faded from him... that is the hardest thing a person can ever do... watch someone that they love so dearly fade away...

Spencer changed me. In life and in death, he taught me so much. I miss him more than anything.

I guess what I want people to take away from this is that we should treat people the same way. It doesn’t matter if a person is short, tall, beautiful, ugly, perfect, deformed, healthy or sick. We should love people for who they are, not what they appear to be. That’s what that beautiful puppy taught me.

In loving memory of

Spencer Randgaard

12-08 to 06-12

Any Topic Essay

English 9

Free Topic Essay

Rachel Randgaard

Summer’s almost here. It’s the end of ninth grade, that means no more homework for most people, for others it means time to get tan, lose weight, and other goals like that. For me, it means time to find a part time job.

Trying to find a job has been very frustrating. Mainly because I am limited to a walking distance from my house, and that immediately narrowed down my options. Trying to find a decent job, in a small town is difficult; to say the least.

First, I tried asking about a job at the local retail store and the grocery store. Right off the bat they told me that I needed to be sixteen years old, that it didn’t matter if it were one day before my birthday, I needed to be sixteen. As it turned out half the places I tried had the same policy. So that narrowed my options even further.

There were a lot of corn seed companies willing to hire fifteen year olds, but that is only for two months out of the year, I was looking for something a little more long term. Besides, I am allergic to corn pollen, so unless I wanted to be miserable all the time, that was another reason I couldn’t take that kind of job.

Then I tried the local cafes and restaurants. There again, most of them said that they didn’t have any positions for fifteen year olds or that they just weren’t hiring at all. I was beginning to get rather frustrated. I had planned on working my butt off during the summer so that I would be able to save up for my ultimate goal, a car, that much faster; but it was at the point where it looked like I was going to have to wait until my sixteenth birthday... which would put me a whole three to five months behind for saving up for a car. I was beginning to lose all enthusiasm to find a job now.

But then one night, when I was gone at the Dordt festival, my family decided to go out to eat. (They always seem to go out when I’m gone, never when my brother is gone, it’s just downright unfair.) They decided to go to the local Pizza Ranch. My parents found out that the owner was going to break off from the Pizza Ranch company and go alone; and that Sue, the owner, needed a few new people to fill in the positions of people who had decided to quit at the end of the school year. And that you didn’t have to be sixteen yet.

As soon as I got back home mom told me about the opening. I was excited, because this was my last hope. I told her to get an application for me, only to find out that she already had, I turned it in about five days ago and I now wait to find out if I finally did get the job.

Celebration Essay

English 9

Celebration Essay

Rachel Randgaard

Who inspires me? Who has had a major impact on my life? This question is rather difficult to answer. So many people have come and gone from my life, others played a small part, but changed me in ways that I am just beginning to grasp. Some had positive effects, others negative, and some I’m still not sure if their impact on my life was for better or for worse. It’s difficult to write an essay on only one person because so much of who I am today comes from a large collage of different people.

So for now, I’m just going to write about the one person who had put up with me for over fifteen years-- my mom. I think I speak for everyone when I say that a mom is where a kid first gets a sense of right and wrong. I learned a lot of what I believe today from my mom. I pick up a few of my bad habits from my mom too, like worrying about insignificant things, and always feeling rushed to get something done, but then realize that you have to go back and do the job again because you made mistakes in your haste. Mom pushed me in the direction towards what I know and what I am capable of today. She pushed me in the right direction of many traits that I have learned. When I picked up a book when I was little, she’d read the book again and again until I recognized the words. From there I quickly learned how to read. When I was little, mom let me watch her cook, that was another trait I quickly picked up on, and even now, today, mom willingly lets me work in the kitchen because I have taught myself more than what she taught me.

My mom is the more optimistic one of both of my parents, though she tends to be very pessimistic at times. Pessimism is something that I got from both parents, although mom insists that she’s not so, “I’m not pessimistic, I’m realistic,” is how she normally puts it.

My mom and I used to talk all the time, about anything and everything. But then her job situation changed and the only time I really get to see her anymore are the few days she has off... Which is not often, we both resent this fact.

If I have a problem I can usually go to her for help though, ‘cause that’s what moms are for. Mom believes in me when I don’t believe in myself. When I don’t, it hurts her so badly to see me hurting, so I try and cover it up as much as possible. I don’t want anybody to hurt over my problems; another trait that I get from her.

In short, I love my mom; I’d probably be nowhere if it weren’t for her.

Compare and Contrast Essay

Laptops vs. Ipads

English 9

Compare and Contrast Essay

Rachel Randgaard

Laptops and iPads. These two things always compete for the top spot in the technology world. Which is better? Well, the answer to that depends upon what the purpose they are being used for is. iPads are better for gaming, recreation, and leisure; whereas laptops are by far more efficient when it comes to the work or school fields. Although iPads are rapidly gaining in popularity for their sleek design and high-tech touch screen, people are more accustomed to, and more comfortable with the laptop format. Take typing for example. To type on an iPad not only is  difficult, but the screen is also so sensitive that sometimes you hit the wrong key so you have to take the time to go back and fix your mistake. If you were to get a keyboard for an iPad that would not only be another expense to pay for, it would also be inconvenient to haul around. Laptops on the other hand have the keyboard built in, making this problem non-existent.

Laptops perform much better than an iPad on a lot of different topics: cost, durability, and battery life. An Ipad’s battery life has a maximum of a mere eight hours of constant use, but a laptop can last a good twelve before the battery begins to get low. The latest version of the ipad costs around five hundred dollars. An average laptop costs about the same, but has better features. Another thing to think about is: what if you dropped your device? Which one would stand up better to the fall? The Ipad’s screen would easily break, but a laptop would stand a better chance. Both, however, would sustain damage, unless you were really lucky.

Ipads are a lot of fun though. You can listen to music, play endless games on them, and even read books. But would they be able to hold a place in the working world? No, they are by far too big of a distraction because they were mainly built for fun. Just like the iPod touch, they are a lot of fun, but not very good for working on. The only difference between an iPad and an iPod is size, not functionality. The main difference between a computer and a laptop is basically that one is portable, and the other is not. Laptops and iPads are very different, and they both do very well in the purpose that they were built for, but when it comes down to it, laptops would be by far more worth your money than an iPad. Or maybe it’s just a matter of opinion, who knows? Maybe someone else feels that an iPad is a better buy. For certain though, before you actually purchase either of these items, look at the options. Which one suits your needs better? Are you certain that this is exactly what you need? That is up to you.

Persuasive essay

Weekends: Longer or Shorter?

By Rachel Randgaard

One subject related to school that gets a lot of controversy would be, should we have longer weekends and longer school days? Or should we keep things the way that they are? I’m not sure as to where you stand on this topic, so I’ll just try to shed some light on my view, and you can decide if my argument is agreeable from your standpoint.

I don’t know about you, but I feel as though there are not enough days in the weekend. Weekends seem to be the only days that I can even remotely begin to catch up on chores, sleep, homework, and other aspects of my busy teenage life. I recently have been trying to land a job, only adding to the things that are priorities and will have to push other things off until a later time... most of the time “later” never even comes.

From a personal standpoint, and maybe you could relate to me, this last quarter has been very stressful. Not because of an increase in homework, but because of a lack of sleep. Studies show that well-rested people do better in daily activities; mentally and physically. Well-rested people tend to have lower blood pressure and stress levels, as well. Another thing would be the fact that I personally can hardly find time to spend time with my family, and after asking around I found this to be a very common problem for others as well. Then, after doing some research, I also discovered that scientists have proven that kids and teenagers that spend time with their parents do better in school. Along that line, polls were taken and most of the time the result was the same-- kids don’t talk with their parents about homework and other priorities because they are so overwhelmed by not being able to catch up on things. Then, parents are shocked when they discover that their child failed a class. It’s possible that with a longer weekend, time spent with parents would make kids more comfortable talking to their parents about such things. Of course in this last argument, there are a lot of other variables to consider as well, the main idea stays the same though. With this being said, I could just say, “Case closed, end of story.” But I won’t; there are plenty of other factors to consider in this matter.

On the pro-weekend side, students would be able to get more sleep, have more time to get things done, and have less stress. On the other side of the spectrum you have the anti-longer weekends side, who are rightfully declaring that having a longer weekend has it’s cons as well. For one, If you have a longer school day, that means less time at night to get homework done for the next day. If you’re in sports or any other kind of after school activity, you know what I’m talking about. Also, the kids that have after-school activities would have later practices, only adding to already present stress. Some people, who just can’t bear to sit down for any longer than required, wouldn’t be able to stand having to be in school for an extra one or two hours. Others still have different reasons.

Based on my personal experience I think that longer weekends would benefit most people. The facts all back up my opinion, the ideal situation would be for us to have shorter school weeks. Maybe you feel differently on the matter, but one thing is for certain-- students need a break. Think about it, adults seem to demand more of us students than we have the capacity to give. We’re expected to be adults, treated like children, and we’re stuck in the middle trying to catch up and find a happy balance between the two; a longer weekend would allow for more work and play. It seems like the closer we get to the end of the year, the more people begin to stress out about things. Kids begin to lose sleep over worrying about catching up on homework, or passing that test that they didn’t have time to study for. Something needs to change. Again, look at the facts, the decision is yours.

Book Reveiw

The Hunger Games

Rachel Randgaard

“The Hunger Games” I’m sure most of you, if not all of you have read the first book of the three. Most of you who will read this know what the book is like, so to you this may just be an opinion paper. But to those who have not read it, I strongly recommend that you do.

The Hunger Games,written by Suzanne Collins, takes place in the future. Katniss Everdeen carries the heavy burden of trying to provide for her small, but poor family, Prim, and their mother. Katniss hunts and gathers in the woods, trading in the hob just to make enough money to survive.

Every year an event called “The Hunger Games” takes place. No one wants to compete, and having your name drawn means certain death. Only one person, out of twenty-four, survives the Hunger Games. Katniss fears her name will be drawn. But she should have feared a very different problem-- Prim’s name being drawn.

In the book, Katniss sacrifices her chances of survival to save Prim, out of love. Katniss sees Prim as the only blood kin she has left, beings that she has never trusted her mother since her father’s death, so Katniss will do anything to keep Prim alive. Even to the extent of surrendering her life to save Prim’s

The Hunger Games demonstrates having to do anything for survival; being forced to show no weakness; taking things to a brutal step, just to survive.

Of course, in every book it seems that romance has to play it’s part in the story line, and The Hunger Games does not disappoint on that matter.

Peeta Melmark, the son of the baker in District 12, is a person that Katniss feels that she owes her life to him, because shortly after her father’s death, Peeta risked a beating from his mother to give some bread to her. That one act of kindness ends up saving Katniss and her family. Throughout the book, Katniss fakes her love for Peeta out of an attempt to survive... Or is she faking? Katniss herself does not know. Toward the end of the book after everyone else is dead, only Katniss and Peeta remain. Who dies? or will they both concoct a way to survive together?

Personally, I think the book would have been perfectly fine without the “love story”.The pace of the story was perfect before the romance, and I think that, even though faked, the romance could have waited to play a part later on in the series. Not to mention the “romance” kind of throws the story line into a whole whirlwind of unpredictable events. Oh well, I guess. Of course otherwise it would have made the ending entirely different. But I won’t give that away.

Aside from the romance part of the book, and the dramatic, cliff hanger-type ending, I liked the book very much. It’s the type of book that draws you in and you can’t put down until you’re done reading. Even then it’s not enough, you’re going to need to have the next books on hand because you’re just going to want to keep reading. Though I have heard the third, and final, book of the series is rather... depressing. I’ll find that part out for myself eventually.

The Hunger Games rates at five out of five on my scale.

Broken Twice (Part 8)

Ch 8: Alive

beep! beep! beep! That sound was getting annoying. I opened my eyes and saw a heart monitor next to me. I looked to my right, an I.V. was hooked up to me. I closed my eyes, the struggle was over for now; I’d overcome death. That’s all people could ask of me right now.

“Christy?” I heard Spencer’s voice.

“Hmm?” was all I could muster, I felt so overwhelmingly tired.

“You’re alive” was all he said. His voice wavered at the end. I looked over at him and saw him crying. I had never seen him cry before.

“Spencer...” I began to cry too. I wanted to tell him everything, but I knew I didn’t have the strength for that now... and neither did he.

“Christy, I’ll ask later what happened; I’m just so glad you’re alive!” He said.

    He and I sat in comfortable silence; just looking at each other’s faces for nearly an hour, before he had to go home and the doctors had to check on me again.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, so don’t go anywhere, kay?” he said with a weak smile as he headed out the door.

“Haha, okay.” My ribs hurt even when I fake laughed.

Mom and Dad came to see me about an hour after Spencer left. Mom was a mess. She kept asking me questions that I could hardly answer. The doctor came in to tell us that I had a concussion, and that I should take it easy for a month or two.

This was the first time in a long time I’d ever seen my dad sober. It was also the first time that I could remember that he’d shown any concern for my well being. I wondered what could have possibly changed him in such a short time. I’d have to think about that later.

I had to stay in the hospital for about three days. The doctors wanted to keep a close eye on my concussion and broken ribs.

“Someone upstairs must really like you” one doctor told me. Apparently I had been one blow away from permanent brain damage. I rolled my eyes at that remark.

On the day they released me, they wheeled me out to the car in a wheelchair, though I knew I could walk just fine. The first thing my dad did was to ask me where I wanted to go eat... dad never took me out... what is going on?

“Um, you pick” I told him.

“No, this is the day you get out of the hospital, you pick.” He put some effort into a smile. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled... or been nice to me for that matter.

“Okay, um, let’s go to DQ” I said, while pulling myself into the car.

I watched my dad walk around the car and get in.

“Okay dad, what’s going on?” I asked, “No jokes, please.”

Dad was quiet for a minute. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” he responded, “I’ll tell you my story, then if you want, you can tell me yours.”

Wait, dad’s letting me choose?! This was a first as well, normally he’d force it out of you.

We sat down after ordering. I waited, dad would speak when he was ready.

“You know, that Spencer friend of yours is a real good kid,” Dad started out.

Oh no! please no! don’t think that! Don’t think that he and I are going to need “The talk”

“While you were in the hospital, he came and talked to me. Pointed out some of the mistakes I played in your life. At first I wanted to shred him to pieces, There’s nothing wrong with me! I had yelled at him. He replied calmly, ‘You realize you’re saying that with a beer in your hands, right?’ Spencer made me come to grips with the role that I was supposed to, but wasn’t, playing in your life.

“While you were in the hospital. I changed, I want to stay changed. So far it’s working for your mother, I want to change to help you too.”

I sat quietly for a few minutes. “What?”

“Christina, while you were out, I accepted Christ. I prayed, and you came out alive.” Dad was... crying?

I swallowed. “That’s great for you, Dad,” I said. I wasn’t comfortable with where this conversation was going. I would have almost rather have the sex talk versus this... almost. Maybe it was partially because when I was little I used to pray to God that dad would change. That had never happened. So I gave up on the God thing long ago.

The weeks went by. Things really did begin to get better. Dad was nicer to me. Mom worried less. My parents were finally beginning to respect me. Eventually Spencer, mom, and dad sat down with me one day, and gave me their testimonies. Spencer’s was really touching. Before he had met me, before he’d come to our school, he was the outcast, the “emo freak” kid. He was debating whether or not to kill himself. He’d prayed for someone to come along that needed him as much as he needed them. Then he met me. That day God had won my heart. I couldn’t imagine life without Spencer. God had put us in each other’s lives for a reason.

Fast forward about ten years. Spencer and I are now married with two kids. My faith in Christ is stronger than ever. Spencer and I had our struggles along the way, but I’ll save that for some other story.

And that’s the first story of how I was Broken Twice.

Note: I Had intended for my story go far beyond this ending. Sorry if it kind of leaves a lot of loose ends, but this is about as good as I can do with limited time. If you think I should keep going, and re-write the ending how I had at first planned, let me know :)   -Rachel

Broken Twice (Part 7)

Ch 7: Afraid

He stopped the car in front of a house I didn’t recognize. It looked like a party was in full swing inside. I hesitated. I had never gone to a party before. I mean the “drink ‘till you throw up” kind. I was nervous.

           “What if we get caught?” I asked.
           He rolled his eyes at me. “We won’t, trust me, we won’t.”
           I got out of the car. I had a bad feeling about this, like something was about to happen that would change the course of my whole life. I shook my head; I was being paranoid. Like I had been for the whole time I’d been with Caleb, nothing bad had happened yet.
           He opened the big door for me, the music that greeted me was deafening. The smell of weed, beer, and other substances was thick in the air. Some people were dancing, others were passed out on the floor, and some were on the couches making out.
           “Hey! It’s Christy!” someone cried from behind me. I turned to see Lindsay, one of my former lunch crowd friends, running my way. “I never thought I’d see you at a party like this!” she shouted over the blaring music.
           “Me neither!” I replied.
           “What?” she hollered over the noise.
           “Nothing!” I shouted. Then some guy behind us barfed on the rug. Shrieks of grossed out girls and nauseated guys drowned out the music for a minute, then someone came and threw out the rug and the party returned to its former chaos.
           “And I’m supposed to enjoy this?” I practically yelled at Caleb.
           “Not this part in particular, once things die down a little, it gets interesting.” He answered.
           Something about this statement didn’t seem right to me. Nevertheless I didn’t have time to think it over before someone shoved me to the floor.  I quickly got back up before dancing teenagers could trample me.
           Caleb towed me away from the crowd, up the stairs, and into a room. I couldn’t tell whether it was a library, a bedroom, or an office.
           “Christy…” he started walking towards me. A look in his eyes that took me a split second to read. I decided to play dumb.
           “What?” I asked.
           He touched my face. I cringed; I don’t know why I did. Gut reaction I guess.
           “I want more from you than what you’ve been giving me.” He grabbed my waist, I twisted away from him.
           “Don’t you love me?” he asked.
           “If that’s all you want from me then, no.” I replied with sudden courage, and began to make my way for the door.
           He blocked my way.
           “You will not leave me.” He said. Anger could be heard in his quiet tone.
           “Actually, that’s exactly what I had in mind.” I held my head high.
           He then grabbed my arms. I was going to have a bruise from how tight he was holding them. “Hey! Let me go!” I cried. My prior courage was suddenly over taken by fear. He grabbed my shirt and began to pull at it with one hand while the other was occupied by trying to hold me still.
           “Help! Help!” I screamed over and over again, no one heard me. I began kicking and squirming to get out of his grasp. Then finally a brief moment of victory. I was free. I bolted to the door, and threw myself out of the room. The party downstairs was still going strong. I franticly shoved my way through the partying crowd. I hardly heard the complaints about spilled beer and toes stepped on.
           I finally was outside. It was really dark out and it was a new moon. So you could hardly see anything ten feet away from the house. I had no ride home but I didn’t care. I ran, it didn’t matter how fast, far or hard I had to run. I just had to get away as fast as possible.
           The woods that surrounded the house were thick and foreboding, but it was the only way home. Besides, I’d rather face a rabid wolf than have to go back to Caleb and the possibility of being raped.
           I pushed my legs as fast as they could go, and after awhile I stopped and listened. I heard footsteps behind me. I began running again.
           “Christy!” I heard Caleb call, “If I EVER cross you again I swear, I will kill you!”
           Then, just my luck, I tripped. I looked up and Caleb was standing over me. “No one ever rejects me,” he snarled, “and if they do, they don’t live to see another day”
           I spit on his feet at these words, then he picked me up by the collar of my shirt and looked me square in the eyes. “And then, I’m going to go kill Spencer.”
           “No” I choked. That was the one thing I didn’t want. Spencer meant more to me than anyone else in the whole world.

Caleb slammed me against the ground. I hit my head on a rock and I could feel blood pouring down the side of my head. I began to feel light headed. The world seemed to be spinning. Caleb then kicked me in the ribs, I heard a sickening CRACK!!! as one of my ribs broke. Caleb then picked me up again, this time by my hair. I screamed bloody murder, though it was made difficult by how sore my lungs were. I couldn’t breathe. Somehow, through the pain I had the strength to say one last thing.

“You will not hurt Spencer... Even if it costs me my life.” I wheezed.

“Well, you’re about to loose yours anyway.” he growled at me. Then I saw it. In his other hand he was holding a knife. he held it to my throat.

“CALEB!!! What the hell are you doing man!” I heard Nick, one of Caleb’s former friends say.

The last things I heard was the sound of Caleb getting wrestled to the ground and someone scream “CALL 911!!!”

*        *        *        *        *        *               *

I knew I was dead, I had to be. Life couldn’t have been this uncomfortable. My head hurt, my ribs hurt so bad I couldn’t breathe. I could feel something pushing air into my lungs, it was annoying. I wanted to breathe at my own pace.

What made me know I was dead was probably the never-ending blackness. No matter how hard I tried, I could not open my eyes. I felt as though I was suffocating under the heavy weight of the darkness. Though I was breathing, I was not at the same time. I felt cold. I felt alone. I could remember how I’d gotten here, and that was all I could think about. I hoped Caleb had gotten what he deserved. I was getting what I deserved for my stupidity. I began to worry about Spencer. I hoped he was alright and that Caleb had never gotten anywhere near him.

Suddenly I gasped for air and I was thrown from the darkness to a room with bright lights. I couldn’t see anything clearly. I heard people yelling “She’s coming out of it!” and “She’s alive!” and tears of joy. So apparently I wasn’t dead. Just passed out.

I looked around me, but I still couldn’t see. “Where am I?” I breathed.

“You’re in the hospital, hun.” said one voice I didn’t know.

I reached out “Where’s Spencer?” I asked, my words were slurred.

Pause. “We’ll find out.” I heard hurried footsteps leaving the room.

I blinked, and my vision cleared a little. I was in the hospital, that was for certain.

“What happened?” I heard my mom’s frantic voice.

Suddenly everything went dark again. I was drowning under that darkness. I heard frantic voices fade as I faded. I wasn’t going to make it through this was I? I wanted to cry, but couldn’t remember how. I just knew death was quickly drawing near, and I never got to say good-bye to anyone.

“Christy! Come back!” I heard the echo of Spencer’s voice, calling me back. I wanted to obey his warm, lovely voice; but I was tied down under the weight of the darkness. I wanted to scream to him “I’ll come, I want to come” but I couldn’t feel my lips, or anything else for that matter.

I felt heavy rhythmic shoves on my chest. “Her heart’s stopped!” someone shouted. Someone screamed in agony. I realized it was Spencer. Spencer. That was all I could think about. I realized then that I loved him, not in the way that I had previously thought love was. It was a different kind of love. The kind of love that you would do anything for that one person, and how that love was returned. The kind of love when you don’t need to physically flaunt your love to prove to yourself that it’s there, you just know that it is there, and that it would not fade. My death would do him no justice.

I suddenly found myself fighting the darkness, and I surfaced again. I was greeted by overwhelming pain. Like pure burning agony. I screamed. Everyone around me was hurrying, trying to get what needed to be done, done.

This whole time I was screaming, “NOOO! AGH! IT HURTS!” This was the first time my voice had come clear, ringing with the agony I bore. I felt something sharp in my arm.

I faded again.

Broken Twice (Part 6)

Ch 6: I’m not sure what I want anymore…
           I watched Caleb drive away. I’d had a good time tonight, despite myself.  He never kissed me; he’d just held me in his arms, which was good because I don’t think I could handle anything else right now, to add to the confusing mess of emotions that were already storming inside my heart.

The instant I stepped in the door dad was on my case. “Where have you been!?” he yelled at me.

“I was with Caleb” I responded. I held my head high and I stood to my full height. I would not be bullied around.

Dad’s face turned puce. “I don’t like that Caleb character, I don’t want you around him anymore.”

“Yeah, dad, you can want something but not get it.” my tone was defiant.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that young lady.” he snarled. This whole time mom had been cowering in the background. Apparently he’d already given her a talking to about something she’d done wrong.

“Whatever dad. Whatever.” and before he could backhand me, I ran up to my room and locked the door.

           I wanted to talk to someone, but I realized that no one would understand; no one would care and the people that would have cared, would reject me for what I was going through. So I kept it all inside. I kept it a secret. The conflicting thoughts in my head were my own personal battle… and they consumed me. It took all my energy out of me. All I could think about was Caleb. Caleb and I sat at lunch together every day. My friends gave up on seeing if I would be available for the weekend. I was always with Caleb. My friends eventually quit trying to even talk to me. It was always “Caleb this, or Caleb that” and they all got sick of it. At the time though, I didn’t care. I thought I was content with having only Caleb.
           I was lying to myself though. Two months went by like this. I eventually realized that Caleb alone wasn’t good enough for me. He was changing me. And not in a way I particularly liked. I felt a need for the physical part in the relationship. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Caleb had made me change to be like that and I had no control over it. I had still not ever kissed him. Mainly because I wasn’t entirely sure this was what I wanted. But I knew that my desire for something more grew the longer I was with him.
           One day about mid-December, just before Christmas break Caleb wasn’t there. He’d left early to go and visit some relatives. I had tried to talk to my friends but they just ignored me and treated me like I wasn’t even there. At lunch I tried to sit with them, but they just got up and moved.
           “Geez Christina, can’t you take a hint?” Sarah, my former best friend, called over her shoulder.
           I sunk down, realizing what I’d done. I suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore. I sat alone. My tears welling up. I really didn’t want to cry, I was wearing mascara. I buried my head in my hands. Rapidly blinking back tears, then I got up, dumped my un-eaten lunch, and hurried out of the room. I made it half way back to my locker before I was all-out bawling.
           “What have I done? What have I done?” I moaned over and over again. I slumped against the wall. No one heard me or saw me. They were all still eating, or in the gym having fun on their break. I just felt miserable for myself.
           “Hey, are you okay?” someone asked. I looked up and saw some guy I’d never seen before. His appearance wasn’t the best in the world, but he was decent. Tall, thin, sandy blond hair. Kind green eyes looked into mine. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
           I wiped away the tears. “Nothing, nothing” I said. Really I was thinking,I don’t even know you, why would you care?
           “I heard what those girls said to you, and I just wanted to know if you were okay.” He said almost as if he read my mind.
           “Well, I’m fine, thanks.” I lied.
           “Didn’t sound like it.” he said.
           I was beginning to get irritated “Why do you care?”
           He thought for a moment before he answered. “Because it looks like no one else does.”
           That struck a nerve and stunned me to silence.
           “My name is Spencer” he smiled, and held out his hand. I looked at it until he put it down. “I want to help you,” he said, “but I can’t do that until you let me in. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought you might need a friend.”
            I was still quiet, but what he was saying made a lot of sense. I looked up at him. “I deserved it, I was so rude to them. I-I-I” I started sobbing again. I knew this was uncalled for but it just overwhelmed me.
           Spencer sat down next to me. “You date that Caleb guy right?” he asked.
           I nodded “Yeah.”
           “I won’t give you crap about dating him. I’ll only say this once, but I think that’s a bad idea, I’ll leave that up to you. So your friends left you because you left them, right?”
           I nodded again.
           “I won’t dig into that wound either, but I will be your friend if you want me to.”
           I looked at him again. Something in those piercing green eyes made my stomach twist and turn.
           I nodded. “How come I’ve never seen you before?” I couldn’t help but ask.
           He smiled “My family just moved here, I don’t really know why. I went to a different school for a little while, but for some reason I felt like I was being led to come here.”
           I felt like something changed. I realized this was the first guy I had ever spoken to that hadn’t pressured me to have sex with him right off the bat.

           I had no idea at the time, but Spencer would change everything.

*            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *           
           Since Caleb was gone, I spent all Christmas break with Spencer. It felt nice; he was nicer to me than my friends ever were… even before this whole Caleb fiasco.
           I was even beginning to think that Spencer was better than Caleb, but I pushed those thoughts quickly aside. Caleb was my Boyfriend, not Spencer.

Spencer and I would talk about whatever was on my mind that day, but I stayed away from talking about my parents. Whenever that came up he’d tell me to treat my parents with respect and maybe they’d return the favor.

    Well, I’d tried that once and dad went straight to the assumption I was pregnant. So after he’d bought a pregnancy test and made me do it, did he get off my back about that. So I gave up on the “respect returned” theory.
           One day Spencer came over to my house. It was about two days until Christmas. He said that he just stopped by to give me my Christmas gift… Caleb and I had been together for nearly five months, during which was my birthday that he had completely forgotten. But here was Spencer, my best friend, doing something no one had ever done for me before.
           “I’m so sorry I didn’t get you a gift,” I said frowning down at the bright red package in my hands, wrapped so artistically.
           He laughed “It’s okay.”
           I still felt bad. I told this to him and he just rolled his eyes. “Just open the present”
           I did. Inside was a book; I took it out to examine it closer. It was a Bible.
           “Just in case you ever need it.” He said.
           I didn’t know how to respond. “Umm, thanks, I think.”
           He smiled. “I figured you needed one, just in case.”
           I didn’t say anything.
           We stood in awkward silence for a few minutes.
           “Thanks,” I said again, hoping we could move on to another subject. “Well, I have to go.” I said. I really had no idea how to handle this.
           “Okay, so, see you tomorrow. Right?” he asked.
           “Maybe,” I stopped on my way back inside “I have plans. Caleb is coming back tomorrow, so if we get back early I’ll let you know.”
           He smiled; he was so cute when he smiled. I shoved that thought aside. “Okay, talk to you later then.” He called over his shoulder as he walked back to his not-so-new Chevy truck. The engine snarled a protest but then he was gone. I watched him drive down the street, but as soon as he was out of sight I ran up to my room and threw the Bible into my junk drawer. I didn’t want to have anything to do with God, or Jesus or anything like that. Not now, and probably not ever.


           A few hours later Caleb texted me. Hey, you. I’m almost to your house, be ready when I get there. A brief moment of excitement coursed through me, but it went away as quickly as it came. Caleb was back early. Why? Oh well, I let it pass. When he came I happily jumped into his car.
           “Hey” I said, “Long time no see.”
           “And no hear.” He frowned “You were supposed to call me.”
           “I honestly tried, but it just went straight to voicemail” I told him.
           “I missed you,” he muttered as he started twirling my hair.
           I batted his hand away. “You’re back early,” I commented.
           His demeanor turned sour “Yeah, so?”
           “I was just wondering why.”
           He thought for a moment considering. “I got sick” was all he said and that ended the conversation.
           I asked where we were going and he said to a friend’s house. I was making an attempt at conversation and he shot down every attempt I tried.
           “What’d you do on vacation?” I asked.
           He shrugged “Hung out with some old friends.”
           Drat.
           “Did you have a good time?”
           “Sure.”
           Ugh!
           “Wanna know what I did?”
           He shrugged.
           “I hung out with Spencer.”
           That triggered a reaction, his hands tightened on the wheel. “You’re not cheating on me are you?”
           The question shocked me. “No, we’re just friends.”
           “Really, well, you two are getting awful close…” he let the sentence hang.
           “Why are you in such a bad mood?” I asked.
           He slammed on the brakes, and muttered something too low for me to hear.
           “I’m sorry, what?” I didn’t hear what he’d just said.
           “Nothing” he lied. As he started driving again.
           But I could have sworn I heard him say, “because of what I’m about to do…”