:: Words And Pictures : High School

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Here's a sample piece for Words & Pictures, so you can see just one teensy example of the sort of thing you could write.  This week's theme is High School.  You can make it shorter, or longer. You can make it personal or fictional. You can write a song. Or a poem. Or just post a photo. It's up to YOU! Break some rules or just do your usual thing.  Let's go!


Words & Pictures : High School
by Pip Lincolne


Once, when I was in Year 8, I was sitting on a bench outside the tuck shop eating an apricot pie.  I was concentrating quite intently on the pie, because they were usually crazy hot.  If any of the filling dripped on your leg it would melt an apricot splotch into your skin  faster than you can say 'Holy Hotness'.  So there I am, in my QUITE short skirt, legs suntanned and splotchless.  I'm thinking about how great recess is, who to sit next to on the bus and whether to buy creamy soda or a milky bar after school.  Ahhh.

And then... THUNK!  Not in a thinky-thunk way. In a forceful, punched in the back way.  I have been  forcefully punched in the back.  I go flying.  My pie goes flying too.  An angry girl I have never spoken to stands over me amidst the apricot, snarling something post-punchy.  Then she's gone.  I am left sitting on the ground, trying to pull my skirt down while I pick the pie up.  (That's quite hard.)  Drat.  I loved my pie. Ugh. My pie is BROKEN.

By the time I get up, which seems like 456 hours later, but in reality is 4.56 seconds later, there is a crowd of girls around me.  They are saying nice things and helping me sort myself out.  I am looking for the back puncher, but she seems to have gone.  I try and be brave, but I start crying.  Another older girl approaches and puts her arm around me.  She's going to sort back puncher out, she says.  She gives me a squeeze and disappears into the mess that is recess.

The bell rings and I go to class.  I'm a bit numb.   Not literally, of course, because it didn't really hurt too much.  But I feel wounded and I can't do my work. I am hot with embarrassment.  I am the back punchee.  I am sure everyone knows and I don't even know what it was all about.  I don't want to whisper about it in Maths. I don't want to hear what anyone thinks.   I don't want to mention it at all.  I don't want to feel this hot and cringey.   I wish it was time for milky bars.  I wish I could go home and make a pot of soup and watch Worzel Gummidge or something equally sweet.

After school, the older girl rushes over to inform me that she found the back puncher and punched her back.  For me.  She said I got punched because the back puncher's boyfriend had said something nice about me.   I do not know who her boyfriend is.  Our high school has over 1000 kids.  I nod my head thankfully, force a smile and pretend to be fine.  I take this grin onto the bus and find a seat near the front. When I get home, I  make tomato soup and float little cubes of white bread in it.  I eat it with a teaspoon in front of the ABC and the heat slowly retreats.

Sheesh.  It's not nice having the pie punched out of you, is it?


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xx Pip

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