Brief 2 Posts: Short Novel

*Please Note: My reflection for Week 12 is under the ‘Reflections’ tab and I talk about and compare the first post I had written (Week 7′s post) to the final product (below) and what I have learned throughout this assignment. I discuss the difficulties I had faced and compare the skills I had used in order to complete these chapters.*


Week 7 Post: Rough (beginning of first) Draft

whenever i look in to a mirror, i don’t see my face, i see hers. Whenever I try my best to catch a glimpse of my self, the glimpse doesn’t last for longer than a few seconds. we are one and we will always be whether either one of us likes it or not. sometimes, when i try hard enough, i swear i can even read her mind and i worry that she can read mine too.
june and i dont talk to the outside world because we have each other and that’s enough- the alienation drives mother crazy, of course, but that’s just the way it has to be. no one understands me and even as i look at my sister sitting across from me, typing away on her type-writer, i know she feels the same.

School starts in an hour. June and I always find it difficult to pull ourselves away from our type-writers but the last time we cut class to sit at the park and write in our notebooks the Educational Welfare Services summoned mother to court in order to explain our many absences before a judge. Who knew that mother’s plump face could ever turn so red?

Lunchtime is supposed to be just about the only good thing worth attending school for but Jennifer and I have learned to keep our heads down, away from any of the white folk. Sometimes this plan fails miserably-like today.
“Hey you two blackies!”, an overweight boy with freckles and bad teeth called out to us.
“Why don’t you go back to your own country. We don’t want you here. Go back to Africa”.
Wrong. It’s Somalia, but neither Jennifer nor I dared to correct him.
“Yeah!”, Lisa Todd, an unattractive girl stuffing her mouth with a sandwich, chimed in.
“Oh hey, I have some clothes that need to be washed. Why don’t you make yourself useful like all of the blackies before you”, she continued the taunting.
Mrs. Goodwin watched, with her arms folded and a slight grin on her face in amusement. Although she had racism running through her veins, she has always treated us better than the other teachers and is probably my favorite, if ever I had to choose.
Jennifer grabbed my arm and we scurried across the tennis court and out of sight.

We found an empty corner in the school library and sat in silence. Jennifer pulled a blowtorch out from her school bag and the glassy look in her wide eyes made me feel safe.
“If anything happens to one of us then the other has to live a normal life. Merge in to society and live the way everyone else does”, she promised and I agreed.
“Let’s do it. Let’s make ‘em pay”.

June may as well have begged me to put the blowtorch in my school bag. She wants revenge and I play along because I know those people deserve what’s coming to them.
We discreetly stuffed an undone roll of toilet paper in Lisa Todd’s fuchsia coloured school bag that hung on a hook in the corridor and set it on fire.
I grabbed June’s arm and we hid behind the corner of a wall as the smoke began to rise from the growing flames. The smoke alarms rang loudly and we watched in laughter as teachers attempted to calm the hysterical students.
“My bag! My bag! How did this happen?”, Lisa Todd screeched.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s