The Life Changing Knock

Prologue

When I was little, I always wanted to write a story. Pictures of dinosaurs and rocket ships filled pages as a kid. Slowly, I added words, telling of a mommy dinosaur who wanted an ice cream cone. My mom always praised me, taping the makeshift stapled-paper books to the walls. Whenever the Bug Spray Guy or UPS guy came, she always took one down to show them the works of Michael Franklin.

Over the years, I continued, slowly building vocabulary and plot structure. It was finally in 2nd grade I sat down, determined to write my very first novel. Having been inspired by my teacher earlier that day, I lifted my pen, placed it, and wrote.

Ice creem is veree good.

I sat back, shaking out the cramp in my hand. Reading it several times, I nodded my head in satisfaction. Two pages and three weeks later, I showed my mother my finished work. After helping her read half the words, she smiled and gave me a hug. The next morning, as I was walking out the door to the bus, I saw my story taped to the window of the Front Room of the house.

It has been a few years now. I am now fifteen and am struggling to write my very first novel.

And this is where MY story begins.

Chapter 1

Frustrated, I put my pen down firmly. I picked up page one of my novel crumbled it to the shape of my hand. I threw it backwards over my head where it landed next to the heaping garbage can overflowing with many more first pages. I sighed.

What should I write about? I leaned back in my swivel chair. I examined my desk. Pencils and pens were neatly organized into two separate cups, a sharpener placed in between them. Clean lined sheets of paper sat stacked on the opposite end. I looked around my room. All my tries at my first novel cluttered the walls. I didn’t dare take them down, for worry that the paint would come down with it.

I glanced over at the clock on my wall. The hands read 6:50. Quickly, I gathered up my textbooks and binder from on the floor and placed them in my backpack which I slung up onto my left and then right shoulder. I walked out of my room and down the stairs.

“Bye, mom!” I called out, opening the front door.

“Michael, wait!” My mom hurried out of the kitchen holding a cheese, egg, and ham sandwich in her left hand. She gave me a hug and handed me the sandwich.

“Thank you.” I walked out the door. “Love you!”

“Love you, too!” She called back.

I walked, listening to the sounds of my footsteps sounding in the silence. It was mid-October and the air was cool outside. I reached up and took hold of my backpack straps, breathing in deeply.

As I arrived to the bus stop a few minutes later, I glanced around. No one was here yet, but I was sure they would arrive soon. I stopped at soaked in the beauty of the morning. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps on the cement sidewalk. I looked left and sure enough, someone was coming. It was a girl. Remembering my mom’s words from a few days earlier, I readied myself to meet someone new.

Hi, my name is Michael. What is yours? Then I reach out my hand and shake theirs. My palms began to sweat as I thought over the entire process. I felt my face turn red and I felt myself start to heat up. Why do I have to get so nervous? I wondered.

As the person neared, I realized it was a girl. She came and stood next to me. I stood still, my stomach a whirlpool. Then the girl turned to me, her pigtails swinging. “Hi, my name is Brittany. What’s yours?” I wiped the palm of my hand on my pants and shook her outstretched hand.

“My name is Michael,” I responded. She smiled.

“I have a little brother named Michael!”

“That’s cool,” I said nervously.

“Yea. Are you the family that moved into 2207?”

“Yes, we moved in a few days ago.” I smiled, feeling myself loosen up a bit.

“Do you like it here so far?” And as I opened my mouth to answer, I was bumped into. I stumbled forward a few steps to see a group of boys, one of which looked as if he had been shoved and had bumped him. They were laughing hard and obnoxiously. I stood up and brushed the dust off my hands. I held up my hands to look at the scratches just as something came screeching around the corner, causing me to jerk my head up. I watched as a bus made a turn too sharp for even any car. The bus leaned so hard into the turn it was almost scraping the road. It slammed on its brakes, coming to a screeching halt right in front of me. The doors opened I stepped on.

The bus driver smiled, and said, speaking with a hint of southern, “Well, how do ya do there? Ain’t ever seen you before. You must be the new move in.” I nodded and walked to the middle of the bus and sat down. The bus stopped at nine more stops, filling the bus beyond the minimum eighty four person capacity. I sat, squished against the window, face cold from the window. We rode six more minutes to the school, where the bus driver - who introduced herself to me as Sally as I got off the bus - let us off in front of the school. I got out and walked into the school. As I passed the classrooms, I peeked in. I was stunned by the cleanliness and new-ness of the school. Big windows were almost in every single classroom. Every single one had not a chalkboard, but a whiteboard. Projectors, plants, piñatas, new desks.

This school is so BEAUTIFUL. I thought to myself.

The time I spent before school was mainly by myself, milling around. When the bell finally did ring, I went right up to the bell looking for my classroom. I finally found it. It was Chemistry with Mrs. Berks.

I entered the classroom, unsure of what to do. I just stood to the side of the classroom, wondering where I would sit. I looked over as I heard the door to the teacher’s office open.

“Oh, hi!” She said upon seeing me. “Yes, I remember that they told me I would have a new student.” She held out her hand, “I am Mrs. Berks.” I shook her hand, her grip firm. I was already beginning to like her. “Why don’t we have you seat in the end seat on the front row, right over there. Do you see it?” I nodded. Mrs. Berks smiled and let me pass in front of her so I could get to my seat.

As I sat down, I felt someone try to kick my chair out from underneath me. I looked behind me and there sat one of the boys from this morning. It was a few minutes later as he was answering a question Mrs. Berk called on him for  that I learned his name was Mark.

And as it would turn out, Mark was in my next class, Health with Mrs. Huff. Halfway through class, I felt something hit my cheek. I rubbed my hand over it. A half a minute later, it happened again. I looked around and saw Mark leaned back on his chair, little pieces of paper rolled into balls on his desk. His head was towards the board but he was looking at me, no expression on his face. I leaned back, hiding myself behind the person next to me. I continued to watch the powerpoint and felt the occasional hit of a paper ball as it was catapulted over the person I was sitting next to.

Fortunately, third and fourth period, spanish and geometry, went by with little to no distractions. Mr. Childs, my spanish teacher, was definitely more on top of things than my old teacher and I had some catching up to do. In math, Mr. Archibald not only taught us what was on the state core, but was also on the english core. He told me that every day before class we would analyze a poem because they were “a warm remedy for the soul” and they “increased our mind’s capacity”. I wasn’t sure if I was going to like this: the one we did that day was The Crow by Edgar Allen Poe. Talk about weird.

That afternoon as I was walking home, I was amazed at how dark it was getting already. It was weird to think that it had been an entire year since, well, this time of year. I took a deep breath, relaxed by the coolness and fresh smell and feel of the evening. Feeling renewed, I entered my home.

“Michael! You’re home? How was your first day of school?” I smiled. I loved my mom. I told her about each class and the new things I had learned. I even told her about Mark. When I told her about him, a slightly troubled look came across her face.

“But I am sure that it will be alright,” I explained quickly.

But my mom wasn’t so convinced. “But if this turns into something that is not-so-great, please let me know.” She smiled lovingly. I smiled back and gave her a tight hug, so grateful for a mom such as mine. I loved her so much.

We spent the rest of the night unpacking some boxes and cleaning up around the house from the residents before. Soon, it was completely dark outside and we sat at the counter, sipping the best hot chocolate ever - white hot chocolate and milk hot chocolate mix with hot milk. Times like this were the favorite times of my life.

That night, I dreamed of Christmas. Snow falling to the ground, I was out and my breath showed in puffs of fluffy clouds. The wind was calm and I was bundled up tight, with my hat and scarf and puff-ball coat and snow pants. It was an uneventful dream, though very calming. It is one of the very few dreams that I remember so clearly, just enjoying this calm in the middle of nowhere.