Sandbox of Gravel (a description of Middle School life)

In the midst of a buzzing cafeteria of practically carnivorous one-sixth graders chomping savagely on their mysterious chocolate- cook ball of cafeteria food, stands a bony middle-aged lady with wild graying brown hair and a white megaphone dangling from her thin shoulders. The lunch line resembles a fat gourd, wider at the top where legion(predicate) impatient people have decided to undertake, and thinner at the end. I turn my head for a second and get my classmate Ross clumsily slip into the spot ahead of me. Hey, you ignore me, I said bluntly. Pffft, what are you talking just nearly? I was here first! Ross yells back dramatically. With her crimson lips pursed and turns on her hips, the bony lady marches over with her unappealing scowl, nobleman over us with her eyebrows all scrunched up together and walks right away back to the center of the lunchroom bellowing the school yahd iz opeen! The schoolyard is like a mini-world, and you never know when youll discover som ething knew. A herd of guys would mob around the basketball courts worshipping the orange hoop as their idol, appointee another cult would worship the almighty concrete extend toball wall. On the outskirts, by the rusting gray fences would be the girls, gossiping close to the hottest celebrity, emitting phrases ranging from oh my God! Or primer coato Bloom!

to lets try and kill the innocent bee on the floor. The fences used to be my favorite spot, sitting on the feeble black gravel and carelessly rocking back and forth on the rusty ol fence. During the summertime, the short and stubby red-bricked school shield ed this land of the yard, like an oasis in ! the middle of a desert. At some point in seventh grade, I stuck my hand into the fence I loved so much and unsuspectingly pulled out... If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com

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