Honestly, there is not much I am proud of in this essay but if I had to pick, it would be my word choice and how I implemented the dialogue. Instead of telling the story, I was able to use imagery to show the story and to describe my feelings throughout this experience. I am also proud of how I was able to put dialogue throughout my essay in a way that flows through the story.

I need to improve on how I end and resolve my conflicts. I need to improve on not ending the story too abruptly and to add more details about what has happened after the climax and falling action. Another thing I need to improve on is to make my stories more engaging and to have better transitions.

 

The Torture of Living with my Childhood Friends

“No, I don’t want to be with her! Why don’t you?” exclaimed Samantha.

“No, I’m always partnered with her!” argued Tiffany.

These were the people who I thought were my friends. The ones who knocked on my door to go ride our bikes, the ones who ate lunch with me, and the ones who invited me to their birthday parties. We stuck together like strong hydrogen bonds, constantly following each other like a girl’s club. I was the one who tagged along no matter how nasty their words burned.

There was four of us in the group: me, Samantha, Makenna and Tiffany. We hung out everyday at school; our lockers were perfectly aligned, and our flawless synchronized walking made it more believable we were the ultimate dream squad. Every movement and opinion became a trend; if one of us didn’t follow, they would be crucified by the group’s judgemental eyes. Music choice, singing voice, and dancing skills were all the requirements you needed to be accepted in the squad. Big Brain? Forget that. All you needed were some ears, a pair of eyes and a neck to do all the nodding to become one of their minions.

To make it even more cheesy, we wore heart necklaces which represented that we were BFFLs (Best Friends For Life)! Beyond cooler than the standard BFF. Samantha, the one I knew since kindergarten, convinced me to change my misfortunate diy hairstyle, cut by my own mom, to growing out my bangs so that I can become “pretty” at the age of seven. I began to grow my bangs and wear only the clothing we bought together during our shopping trips to the mall: black leggings, stylish pastel coloured t-shirts, and some converse shoes.

Whenever we were together, they did most of the chatting: fun activities they did over the weekend, inside jokes I didn’t understand, and boasting about something in their life. I was the loner of the group. I couldn’t get a single word in the conversation, with my questions and comments drowned by their voices, while feeling useless.

You know the stereotype Asian people get about having small eyes? Well I was one of those victims, by my own friends. While we were waiting for our parents by the school under a big oak tree, Samantha pointed towards another girl named Olivia, one of my classmates.

“Hey! That’s Olivia. You guys look kind of alike,” Samantha says as we lay on the patchy prickly grass.

“How?” I asked.

“You both have small eyes.”

If she couldn’t be even more offensive, she stretched her eyes out with her fingertips, making her eyelids a thin line as her eyes. Everyone laughed, and I awkwardly laughed as well.

The next day, I met up with my friends before class started. They were chatting about some guy they all liked, with their flirtatious googly eyes while twirling their perfect shiny hair; I could almost picture arrow hearts piercing through their chest. If only that really happened.

“I think he likes us,” stated Samantha.

“Definitely,” added Tiffany in agreement.

Samantha’s eyes turn towards me with her nose scrunched like I was a piece of old gum under her shoe.

“But I don’t think he likes Shannon,” added Samantha.

My self esteem instantly went down the drain along with my shattered heart. From that day on, I became self conscious, only focusing on my impurities. Not only did they rank me the “least prettiest” in the group, they criticized my eating habits, my clothing and my personality.

During summer in grade eight, we planned to go to a show to see our favourite youtuber, Tyler Oakley. I was stoked to watch my artificial dose of sunshine live without my phone screen. When the day arrived, I jumped out of bed with a sleepy widened smile, while grabbing my new neatly laid out clothes. I slipped on the black ruffled skirt covered in daisies and my silky ocean blue top, gliding my hands across the soft fabric and putting on my silver heart necklace given by my parents. The cold metal pressed against my skin, cooling down my excitement that was flooding through me.

As I walked towards the building where they held the show, I noticed in the corner of my eyes Samantha, Tiffany, and Makenna striding across the street with their dazzling matching outfits and their gracious hand gestures that flowed through the air like a ballerina. It was entrancing, however, I had to stick to my roots and make my move. By the time I caught up to them, with the sun making my hair greasy and sweat dripping down my forehead, the first words that came out of my mouth was a croaky “hi”.

“Hi, do you have your ticket?” asked Samantha with a fake smile.

“Yeah! Right here!” I responded with excitement.

“Cool, let’s get in line then.”

When we got in line, filled with nauseating screaming girls surrounding me, behind, I heard whispers between Samantha and Tiffany.

“What is she wearing? That skirt is so short I can see her underwear!” whispered Samantha.

“I know, who does she think she is?” added Tiffany with a sneer.

“How did her mother let her out like that?”

The words took a punch to my stomach, making me unbalanced. My face started to heat up from embarrassment; therefore, I decided to tie the quilted sweater I took in case it gets cold, around my waist. Relief swarmed through me like bees buzzing back to their hive once I was completely covered. When we entered the building, bright lights and loud music blasted through the room. The set up was like a movie theater, but with more levels of seats and every seat filled with a screaming teenage girl. It was horrifying and awesome at the same time. Our tickets held our numbers which determined our seats. We sat on the third level; perfect view from above. When we sat down on the red velvet cushioned chairs, Samantha started making eye contact with Tiffany. They spoke to each other during the thirty minutes before the show started. Since I was sitting between them, my body was bending back and forth like a ping pong ball in my seat while they spoke, bending in front of me and behind me. When will they stop, I thought. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t want to upset them. Therefore, I stayed quiet, swaying back and forth like riding on a seesaw. Five minutes before the show, the lights were getting dark, signaling Tyler’s arrival! I wiggled my bum in my seat with anticipation, when Samantha asked Tiffany a favor.

“Tiffany, can you move seats with Shannon?” asked Samantha.

“But I like my spot, no one tall is blocking my view. I’m the shortest out of all of you,” I protested.

“Just move!”

The only thing I could think of was move. What else could I have done? Yell back at them in public? I was already afraid of speaking and getting kicked out of the group, leaving with no friends. I switched with Tiffany, with my view now blocked by a middle aged, tall, bald man; probably the father of the daughter sitting beside him. Makenna noticed I was awkwardly stretching my neck like a wannabe giraffe, so she kindly told me to switch spots with her. Although I was completely shattered and devastated, it was quickly replaced with happiness when Tyler Oakley walked on stage.

When the show ended, Samantha and Tiffany left with their parents without saying goodbye. Makenna and I shared an awkward hug and our day ended there.

Near the end of summer, it was time to get ready for High School! The first day of transferring to High School was not so bad. I may have walked into the wrong class room, spilt tea on my new top and tripped into a garbage can, but I managed to go a day without seeing my friends. From that day forward, I decided I didn’t need them anymore.  I met up with new friends, who are my friends till this day, who are accepting, honest, and trustworthy. I didn’t have to act anymore, just be myself.

Despite feeling ignored and mistreated by my frenemies, a valuable lesson came out of this experience. We shouldn’t feel the need to stick with those that have hurt us physically or verbally even though we’ve kept a long friendship. People continue to come in and out of our lives and some may re-enter, but true friends will always be part of our lives.