Cecil County Public Schools UCSCA UCSCA
UCSCA UCSCA Lit of the Nation
UCSCA Lit of the Nation
Rolling Tires of Life
Hannah Monti

"Rolling tires of life..." The woman yelled to us. A nervous laugh shifted through the crowd.

"Write it down!" She cried! "Don't waste your idea!" Binders were hurriedly flipped open and paper rustled as the group of kids around Christa scrambled to get a pencil and paper.

Christa glanced around, most the kids were pretending to think or drawing, some including her were writing short stories or poems; stories for herself.

Poems! Why was it all poems? That was all that this woman spoke about. She read poems and spoke of famous poets! Nothing about the great Fantasy writers, or the short story writers.

She shook her head angrily as she scribbled more in her notebook. Black tresses swayed like branches in the wind in front of her orbs.

The large groups of kids around her were silent, except for the one person who was explaining the design on their binder.

Christa sighed. She hated this place! All this Mrs. Snyde talked about was how great we were. And how our talent didn't belong to us!

She looked up as a small boy spoke shyly about his binder. Once again she ignored them and went back to writing her story.

"Words make life worth living..." She frowned. Everyone here seemed to have these words just flow though him or her they were so natural. Christa loved to write! And she tried, but it always sounded so forced.

These kids were describing themselves by their binders as it went around the circle, soon it would be her. She paused in her writing and tried to think about what to say. She didn't know who she was, or what she wanted to be or even whom her friends where, how was she supposed to tell strangers stuff about herself she didn't even know?

"CHRISTA!" A shrill voice cried.

Christa jumped and nearly fell out of her chair as she gave a surprise.

"Huh?" She straightened up in her chair, wondering why everyone was looking at her.

"Would you like to share?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No..." Christa mumbled.

"What was that?" She teacher cried quickly.

" I said, of course." She said sweetly, closing her binder. "My, er, binder has lots of um pictures and words. They are like what I like and relate myself to, ya know?" Christa started slowly. "The one word I really can like relate to and I think describes me is pretender." She looked up, everyone in the room stared boredly at her, waiting. Hurriedly she looked down again.

"Like, um, I don't know who I am, or who I wanna be I don't know who I want to hang out with and all so I just kinda pretender." She said lamely looking down. She felt all their beady eyes bearing down on her and she squirmed. Before anyone could laugh, the person next to he started to share, thankfully.

"Alright, you guys can go, see you after lunch." She teacher said, rising herself. Hannah leapt from her chair and hurried out the door before everyone else, rushing o the street, her binder clutched to her chest.

A group of three followed more closely than any other and Christa growled in frustration when the light blinked a red hand at her. She pushed the button rapidly, willing it to change.

The group of three arrived and the blond walked up laughing.

"Well, where were you and your brainy self going so fast?" She asked laughing. Christa shrugged and glanced to the ground. Some one prodded her painfully in the ribs, causing her to cruse and fall sideways. As she tried to regain her balance she was shoved and hit the ground hard, her binder went flying to the blonds' feet.

Hot pain flared up her lower leg and hand. She grasped her legs, wincing, as she tried to stand. Glancing at her leg, she saw it was scraped badly, but nothing serious. She wavered as she stood and went for her binder, but the blond was quicker, snatching it away. She flipped it open, unaware or ignoring Christa's gasp of dismay as she tried to rip it from her, The blond read some of her story as a darker haired boy read behind her, and the one who had shoved her laughed and waited for the blond.

She laughed and threw the binder at Christa feet, looped her arm into the males who shoved her and saunter across the street like she had just won the Noble Prize. Christa hurried to get her binder and cross before it turned, but as she stood again, the lighted blinked red. Christa cried out loudly and hit the button again. When she turned, still favoring her right leg, she gave a startled yelp. The third member of the blonds' trio stood by he road, watching her. He smiled warmly but only received a dirty look from her.

"I liked your story." He said. Christa scoffed and shrugged her shoulders.

"They suck, that's why I don't let people read them." She said cruelly.

The boy shook his head, sending brown tresses flying into his eyes.

"No, it was really good, think I could read the whole thing sometime?" He asked.

"Why, so you can go laugh about it with your stupid friends?" She snarled. The boy looked taken aback.

"They aren't my friends." He said chuckling. "They think I am theirs but..." He shook his head again.

"Oh." Christa said slowly.

The light changed and she hurried across, no sure whether she liked this guy or not. He jogged after her grabbing her arm, pulling her into a slow walk.

"Where you going so fast?" he asked chuckling.

"Away." She said wrenching herself from his grasp. He looked taken aback.

"Am I that bad?" He yelled after her. Christa didn't answer but climbed the steps into her dorm.

Fifteen minutes later after writing some more, Christa headed to her creativity group, already forgetting who was in it. When she entered the room, it would appear that she was late. All the seats were taken, except the one by the boy who had hung with the blond. Sighing almost angrily, Christa walked over to sit on the couch, as far away from him as possible. She clutched the binder close to her and pulled her knees up to her. Their counselor, Mary, smiled and began to put them into groups of 3. Since the boy was by her, him, her and Mary were in a group.

"What we want to do is to find uncommon common similarities." She said smiling.

"You two start without me, I'll be right back." She said, standing to walk about the room.

The boy smiled at her and stuck out his hand, "Andrew." He said.

"Christa." She said slowly shaking his hand.

He leaned back put his hands around his head.

"Let's see, I have a pet goldfish..."Christa shook her head.

"I love Flogging Molly and I'm trying to go to the Warped Concert." He said shrugging. I know you don't know what I'm talking about but..." he shrugged.

"I LOVE Flogging Molly!" She exclaimed. "And I was gonna go to the concert but my mom won't let me!" She said, sitting up. Andrew laughed.

"Well, that's two..."

The rest of the session passed quickly and Christa found herself liking Andrew more and more.

When Christa woke, it wasn't with a feeling of apprehension or excitement; no it was full of dread. She tumbled out of bed and dressed slowly, not to eager to go to breakfast wasn't like she had any friends.

She walked into the girl's bathroom, dark tresses tumbling around her face, as she leaned against the wall waiting, for all the sinks were full. To her amazement, a pretty girl blushed, and stepped away.

"Here, go ahead, I can wait till after you." She said very quietly.

Slightly confused Christa thanked the girl and took her spot at the sinks. She hurriedly brushed her teeth and washed her face, wanting to be alone to think.

As she walked alone to the Hall for breakfast, she tried to think why the girl had been so nice to her, wasn't she an outcast? She assumed that it must have been Andrew, spreading dirty stories about her. Slightly angry, but mostly hurt, Christa stomped into breakfast retrieved a class of water and moved to a table where hopefully no one would sit.