Webkinz Insider

applegirl33 · 07-09-2009, 03:40 PM

I was gone for a quite a few months so I decided to start over with my "series." This is the first and its really different from the first version. I hope you enjoy! If you would like to be notified whenever I write a new chapter, let me know! I accidently got rid of some of the old PM list, so if you were on it before, please let me know again!

Burning Away

Chapter 1

I peer out from behind the curtain on the makeshift stage. We had put 1000 seats out all across the football field earlier that day and half of them are already filled.
It’s graduation time. Finally we are leaving the high school. Finally we are leaving the house. Finally we get to have our own lives. Family and friends file slowly across the field, trying to find a good seat. Everything we do at this high school is such a big deal because we live basically in the middle of nowhere where nothing ever happens. So when the largest senior class ever in the history of Aurora, Nebraska was graduating, everyone was going to be there.
And I mean everyone.
Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, great- grandparents, even great-great grandparents were going to be there. I look closer at all the people and spot my parents. They’re in the third row, the two seats smack dab in the middle. They are both examining the five page program that lists the order of events. My mother, Sam, pushes her brown bob cut behind her ears and smoothes her dark blue skirt out. My father, Bill, pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. They fall right back down again and I chuckle. He’s always having problems with his glasses. He runs his large hands through his thick black hair and keeps looking at the program. His vivid ice blue eyes dance across the page. The first event for the evening: the valedictorian speech. Whose name is right beside it? Mine. Allison Blackwell. I’m the valedictorian for the senior class. I have to give and opening and closing speech. My stomach clenches just at the thought of this looming event.
I shouldn’t be nervous. My whole school career basically started by giving speeches and being in front of large crowds. I was in the kindergarten thanksgiving play, in the first grade Christmas pageant, the second grade musical. I gave a speech in third grade about recycling. I won the spelling bee in fourth grade and again in fifth grade. I was the president of almost every club in sixth and seventh grade and from eighth grade on, I was the class president. And every year I was in some sort of play. I was always performing and speaking. That’s how I got noticed by the people at the New York Academy for Fine Arts.
It was during one of the small community play that I was performing in. It was just at the beginning of this year. I was playing Juliet in our cities modern Romeo and Juliet. I had an outstanding performance, which was superb because scouts from New York just happened to be there. They talked to me afterward and said they would be in touch. I had been agonizing if I would get into their college. I had always wanted to go to it. The New York Academy of Fine Arts. It had such a ring to it; I could fall asleep listening to someone say it over and over again. Finally after almost 4 months of waiting, I got an acceptance letter. I had been so excited I almost had a heart attack. When I had told my dad his chest swelled with pride and my mother’s eyes immediately pricked with tears. They were always wishing the best for me. No matter what I chose, they would go along with it. They supported me when I took piano lessons in third grade. When I decided I wanted to try rock climbing, they never even hesitated to sign me up. They were my favorite people in the whole world.
Now most kids know what their parents do for a living.
But not me.
Either they never got around to telling me, or they can’t tell me. All I know is they work for the government and have to travel all over the world. Oh, and they make a lot of money. And I don’t mean just enough to get by, or enough to be comfortable. I mean enough to live a few life times very comfortably. Everyone in town wonders why such wealthy people would want to live in such an unwealthy town. I ask myself that same question. Do they just like small town life? Or does it have something to do with their top secret job? I have no clue, but I don’t really care about it. As long as I’m not in any danger of losing them, I’ll be perfectly okay.
Someone taps me on the shoulder and brings me out of my thoughts. I realize I’ve pulled back the thick blue velvet curtain far enough for people to see past me. I close it quickly and turn around. It’s my best friend, Maggie. Tears are in her chocolate brown eyes and her blonde hair is in a low bun. Her blue gown and cap are almost like mine, except I have a yellow sash across mine instead of green. I pull her petite body up to mine in a tight hug, sadly thinking of the future. Maggie had the exact same dreams of mine. She even got accepted into the NYAFA. But right after she got the letter, her parents got divorced and it wasn’t a nice divorce either. Just like me, she didn’t get a full scholarship to college. But unlike me, after her parents spent so much money on the divorce, she didn’t have enough money to even travel to New York. I offered again and again to pay for it, I mean, I have plenty of money. But she denied me again and again. Besides, she now has to go live in California with her Mom when graduation is over. Even I couldn’t deny that it would be way over the top to pay for a plane ticket from California to New York. So instead she will be going to the community college in her new small town that doesn’t even have an acting program. I feel so bad for her, and I just squeeze her tighter. Her parents aren’t even going to be here tonight; they have a legal meeting finalizing the divorce.
“Ally?”She stammers. I can tell she’s holding back tears. “I have something to tell you. And it’s not very good,” She starts. But I don’t let her finish.
“Well if it’s not good, then let’s wait till our sleepover tomorrow night, okay? I don’t want to ruin tonight with bad news. And tears will just ruin your beautifully done makeup.” I wipe a tear away before it runs down her face.
“But,” she starts again.
“Just trust me,” I start. “You will regret telling me if it’s that bad. Now go back to your row. I think we are starting soon.”
She gives me one final squeeze and a small smile, and then slowly shuffles back to her row.
Unfortunately, the curiosity of her news starts eating my brain. I want to know as much as she wanted to tell me. But I know that it’s for the best if we let it be till tomorrow.
Maggie and I have been friends since first grade when we were in the Thanksgiving play together. She played a squash and I was a pumpkin. We love each other like sisters and it’s killing me just thinking about the day she has to leave. There’s only three days left. Today’s Friday. She’s leaving Monday morning.
Usually we are inseparable during the summer. We spend every living moment with each other and most nights we have a sleepover. But not this year. We get one more sleepover before she leaves. Sure, Ill visit her in California and she might be able to visit me once in New York. But it won’t be the same. Nothing will ever be the same.
Movies and TV shows make the end of senior year seem like all that and a bag of chips. Even saying that it is extremely stressful is an exaggeration. Every second of your normally peaceful life is suddenly filled with applications, decisions, and chaos. You have to say good bye to most of your friends and sometimes your home. You have to deal with costs and trips back and forth to home. Your life suddenly becomes one big tangled ball of string. All of your choices get so knotted and tangled you can’t tell one end of the string from another. You have to work extra hard and everyone is trying to fit in all the extra-curricular activities that they can because they look good on the applications. Overall, we are all extremely glad to finally be leaving for college. But I don’t think any of us will be able to relax till we finally have a good paying job and a stable home.
Behind the huge stage, all the graduating seniors are standing in long rows, waiting for time to begin. There are about 800 of us graduating and the city couldn’t be more proud. There have been banners and signs all across town since January.
I look around and take in all of the people.
Katrina Evans is a few rows to my left. I roll my eyes as she twirls her curly black hair around her fingers and flirts with all the guys. I don’t think there has been a time in her life after fifth grade when she wasn’t single.
Justin Smith is a few people over to my left and I heard him talking to his best friend, Ryan. His nasally voice and nerdy suspenders always have people assuming he is a ****. Which he is, but he can be sweet too. I had to work with him on a project last year and he was actually kind of funny and sweet. When you got past his voice.
I saw Maggie a few rows to my right and I tried to catch her eye, but she just kept looking at the floor. She stood there sullenly, not talking to anyone. A few people tried to start a conversation with her but she just kept staring at the wooden floor. My ball of string was just one easy knot to untangle compared to hers.

Everyone is supposed to be perfectly quiet, but there are excited murmurs sweeping across the crowd. I step back up to the thick blue curtain and pull it open slightly. Every single fold up metal chair is filled and now people have to stand at the very back. I start to panic. Are the speakers we set up going to reach that far back? I lean out a bit further and peer to my left. On stage I see our principal, the guidance counselor, and some other old lady.
The principal, Mr. Wickersham, is short and stocky. His hair is completely white but he’s got more hair than almost anyone at the entire school. (Except for Donald White during the winter. Trust me, you don’t want to know) Mr. Wickersham has more wrinkles than anyone else, and hands almost as large as catcher’s mitts. (No exaggeration there) He has coal black eyes that make him seem lifeless when he’s not smiling. But when he does smile his whole face lights up and you can see he’s lived a long, fulfilling life.
The guidance counselor is young and beautiful. Her name is Ms. West and she joined us two years ago from a small town in Wisconsin. Her flaming red hair is pulled into a low bun and you can see all of her angular features that make her dazzling. Her brown eyes scan the crowd, but she abruptly stops and her eyes narrow on some unseen person or object. I wonder if she sees a problem with the speakers too.
She suddenly stands, and swiftly strides over the principal. She towers over him by almost two feet. Seriously she is almost seven feet tall. She bends down and whispers into his large ears. I see Mr. Wickersham’s eyebrows rise then fall again. His mouth is in a tight line and his eyes make him seem a little creepy. He waves her away quickly though and she dejectedly shuffles back to her seat on the far left side of the stage. Something seems wrong, but I push it to the back of my mind and turn my eyes to the old lady standing to the right of the podium that’s in the middle of the stage.
The lady looks old enough to be Mr. Wickersham’s grandmother. She has tufts of white hair standing straight up on top of her pale hair and huge speckles are perched atop her nose, making her eyes ten times bigger. Even her outfit seems antiquated. It’s a dull red dress with faded yellow flowers scattered across it. You can tell there are pads in the shoulders and the sleeves puff out, making her arms look like giants.
She’s holding a wicker basket that seems to be too heavy for her fragile arms and it’s filled to the top with rolled up sheets of white paper. Diplomas. There are nine other baskets sitting around her feet. I catch the principal’s eye and he taps his watch. I look at my own and see that it is almost 5:30pm. Almost time to begin. I nervously chew on my already short nails as I turn back to all the seniors.
Everyone is starting to get restless. Louder murmurs reach my ears and my stomach churns. Something is going to go wrong, I think. I look at my watch again just as the hands reach 5:30. It’s time. I readjust my yellow sash and blue gown. I smooth my brown hair (it’s just like my mother’s; thin, and soft, but it’s much longer) What if I mess up my speeches? Anybody anywhere related to anyone graduating is going to be here. I know my aunt, uncle, and five cousins are going to be here from Florida, another 4 cousins from Washington, and so many others from all over the country.
This is the biggest moment of my life. Bigger than the time I won best actress in ninth grade, bigger than when my softball team won state. Probably even bigger than my first kiss. Finally I hear Mr. Wickersham’s booming voice over the microphone. “….And now welcoming your senior class valedictorian, Allison Blackwell!”