What I Am

I'm not the brightest person in the world. I can count to a hundred forwards and backwards without stumbling over my numbers or thinking about which one comes next. I read chapter books, and I like to go to school. But I just sometimes seem to miss the dumbest things—things that most eleven-year-olds wouldn't miss. Like the time I was invited to James' tenth birthday party and there was a scavenger hunt to find the cake. I was the only one who needed to follow the clues, 'cause all the other kids watched as his mother hid the cake, while I was watching their lava lamp. By the time I eventually got to the cake, everyone was halfway through his or her first slice.

I'm not the healthiest person ever either, not I'm not unhealthy or anything. My mom can force me to eat my broccoli and string beans sometimes, if I'm in a good mood. She doesn't know, though, that when she puts vegetables into my school lunch I always throw them out. She'd probably be mad, but what she doesn't know can't hurt her. Though sometimes I get scared 'cause what if she found out and then gave me a time out or took away my GameBoy or something like that. And then I also feel guilty 'cause I've seen on TV that there are hungry people in Africa that could really use those carrots or baby corn or broccoli or whatever vegetable things she puts in my lunch. My mom always tells me at dinner that I should eat everything that's on my plate because of the Africans. I never told her, but I've always wondered why I couldn't just send the veggies to them.

I'm not the bravest person, either. I mean, I'm not scared of vampires or werewolves or pirates or anything, but once there was this creaking in my room and it was really scary so I went to wake up my dad, and I ended up waking my mom too 'cause they sleep in the same bed, but, anyway, my dad came into my room and he looked around for where the creaking sound was coming from and found there was a tree branch scraping against my window, causing the noise, and he told me to go back to sleep, but I couldn't sleep on a count of the creaking was still kind of scary, so I woke up my parents again so that I could sleep in bed with them.

Nor am I the most responsible person. Once my dad and mom took me to a pet store to get fish, and I picked out two little colorful ones. They were so cute, and I named them Ms. Wallace and Ms. McCabe after my teachers, even though I could never tell who was who on a count of they both looked exactly the same. Anyway, when I brought them home and put them in their fish tank in my room, my parents told me to feed them. And I did; for two weeks I fed them just when I was supposed to. But then I forgot for a couple days, and when I remembered to check on them, I saw that Ms. Wallace had eaten Ms. McCabe, or maybe it was that Ms. McCabe had eaten Ms. Wallace. I'm still not sure. Either way, one of them was eaten. So I fed the remaining fish all the food I had left because I felt it must have been really hungry if it had gone to such extremes as eating its friend. Then it ended up dying, so I've been too scarred by the experience to ever get fish again.

I'm not the most forgiving person. I mean, I'll forgive my parents and all, 'cause they're my parents and they'll punish me if I don't. But I tend to hold grudges with my friends. Like when I was in first grade I was really good friends with this kid named Michael. He would come over my house a lot and we would play with my toy soldiers that I got from my dad. They were really cool and I loved them so much, but then Michael broke one of them. I got really mad and I hit him. My mom said that wasn't a reason to hurt someone—she said what he had done was an "accident", even though I was pretty sure he was instigating. Anyway, Michael went back home and I haven't forgiven him since. We aren't friends anymore.

I'm not the best at keeping secrets either. It was my dad's birthday once, and my mom and sister and I were going to surprise him when he came home from work that night. The morning of his birthday, I said to him, "Guess what we're doing for your birthday tonight?" He asked what, so I said, "I'm not telling!" When he left the room, my mom and sister were mad at me. I said I was sorry, but they didn't really care. But my dad still seemed surprised when he got home later. Kind of.

I don't have the best imagination of any kid. There was this time when Ms. McCabe said to us that we had to draw a made-up animal. I thought long and hard about what I was going to draw. As everyone drew their masterpieces, I kept thinking. By the time we were supposed to by done drawing, I wasn't even half done drawing the wings on my big-beaked, man-eating bird.

So I guess there are a lot of things that I'm not. I'm not the smartest kid in my class, but I'm not the dumbest, either. I'll never be able to eat just a salad for dinner, but I don't think I'll ever be super-duper fat and unhealthy. I won't be able to have a pet fish, but I assume someday I'll be more responsible; maybe when I'm in college, even though I don't like to think that far into the future.

Right now, I'm not the most forgiving person, but I've been working on not keeping grudges. The same goes for secret-keeping. And while I might not be the most imaginative person, I know that when I open up my mind and think about something in the right way, I can still see myself as a superhero, with a cape that trails behind me when I fly. I think about this a lot, actually, but sometimes my mom interrupts my thoughts by telling me that dinner's ready or something like that. But I still pretend I'm flying as I zoom down the stairs to the dinner table. My mom tells me not to run, but I can't help it. It's just who I am.


Author's Note: So I didn't have too much time to edit this, but I hope you enjoy it! Please leave a review to tell me what you think.