DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

 

Penelope the Writer

 

                Penelope, a twelve-year-old seventh grader, lay flat on her back in the middle of her bedroom.  She could feel the whoosh of the air from the ceiling fan drive down towards her face, like a bus or a truck had just found its way past her and drawn about a small tornado.  The spring of the coils of the carpet supported her back, and she dug her ponytail into them, forming an imprint that only a writer could, a writer that waited for the next thing to write about to pop into her mind.

                Penelope thought about last night.  She had gone out with her Dad to walk their dog, Moses.  They walked against traffic, down Bismarck.  It was cold, so they were bundled up; she wore her Ugg boots, and her father wore a Bears cap.  It looked like a masculine form of a beanie, but she wouldn’t tell her Dad that.  To him, it was a winter hat.  He didn’t wear a North face jacket, either; it was a winter jacket. 

                Her Dad let her hold the leash as she told him about the creative writing assignment that was due for English on Monday.  She was about to draw up the courage to ask him what he thought she should write about.  She took a deep breath, but before she could say anything, her Dad grabbed hold of the leash as a huge semi drove by.  This type of danger worried him because Moses was the type of dog that liked to jump out into the street whenever he saw something bigger than a normal sized car drive by.

                “Be careful,” he said, letting go of the leash.  “You never know if he could run out into the street.  You never know what could happen.”

                Penelope was shaken up; not by the fact that she could have been hit by a truck, but because her father had been so startled.  She looked up to her father’s eyes, which were bloodshot yet placid. These are the things he lives for, she thought to herself.  Her protective Dad, never taking a chance on someone, or something, that he loves. 

As they turned the corner down Dashel, Penelope saw a pair of dice hanging in the window of a car.  The dice was blue and the dots were white.  What would have happened if my Dad hadn’t grabbed the leash? she thought.  What would happen if he never grabbed the leash?  Would the cars still go by just as fast?  Would the traffic signals still be so bright? Penelope wondered what her Dad would act like in a dangerous situation without her.  Be careful were the words that came out of his mouth every time he saw her leave the house.

Penelope sat up on her pale orange carpet.  Tonight was family game night.  They were going to play a board game as a family after dinner.

“I’ll write about… fifty’s propaganda,” she thought out loud.

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.