This is a young adult novel(or article)


This following story explains my life and all that I have faced. I am in fact only 13, but I have so much to tell.

This story will help me. It speaks for itself. Enjoy.

Chapter 1

Darrell sat motionless as his computer illuminated the room with its bright screen. "What am I gonna do?" The position on the empty computer blinked on and off. He only had his name on the top-right hand side. Darrell Johnson. He was upset. He let his head drop into his arms on the computer desk. His teacher's words echoed in his mind. Atleast 20 pages, double spaced. I want you to write about your life and the obstacles you've faced. Talk about what life means too you. Essay format. Must be typed. You have until next month. The class was outraged but they kept quiet. When Darrell had heard, he sucked his teeth in anger. This is some bull , he thought. Twenty pages? Dude must be crazy. Darrell kept quiet and just crossed his arms, grinding his teeth. Now he wished he just left the class. He had no idea what to type. The teacher told them about the project 3 weeks ago. He only had a week left. "Twenty pages in one week", he uttered. "Oh boy."

He began typing one sentence. "I was born in May of 1997, in New York City.", he read over. He chose to keep this going and make his own auto-biography. He cracked his knuckles and continued. As he typed, he began thinking of his life.

His parents came from West Africa, but he was more of an American, and yet still proud of his African culture. His mother was from Accra in Ghana, his father from Cape Coast. Well, his stepfather anyway. He never knew his real father. That thought always crossed his mind. Everytime he went out, he was afraid of passing any man that could be his father, and he wouldn't even know. His older brother, Daniel had told him a couple years ago. He never had the heart to tell his mother. Part of him felt sad for her, part of him was upset with her for not telling him, and he also felt confused, not knowing why his father wasn't here. "Hmph, I guess its better if I don't know."

As for now, he was in the eighth grade, preparing for high school. His school was 2 blocks away from the Southern Bronx, his neighborhood. The Bronx was tough, but he was never scared. He got used to the distant sounds of gun shots. He would just mind his business and nobody was messing with him. He was tall enough for his age, dark skin and stocky shoulders. He remembered being little, always wanting to go downtown, to Manhattan. He especially loved it during the holidays. New Tork was always home, but he always dreamed of seeing the country, no the world. That was who he was, a dreamer. But he never did anything he wanted. He let his life control him. He had control of nothing. And he knew was nothing.

He was standing in the park, a dark figure slumped over a bench before him. Something liquid was in his hands, sliding through his fingers. It took him moments to realize it was silver blood. Everything around was black and white. The person laying awkwardly on the bench began gettin up. Darrell noticed he was at the "South Park", his old hangout. About 20 yards behind his house. He always played basketball there. The body faced him now. He quickly recognized the face. The kid was his age, but skinnier. His slim body inched up to Darrell's and he scowled. "You did this! You did this to me! How could you? I thought we were like brothers!?" The words hit Darrell like tough blows. They hit him with punches, influenced by guilt. "I hate you!" The words boomed in his mind and played over and over again.

He wokoe up in a cold sweat. His mother was shaking him. "C'mon baby you got to get to school" He checked the time, 7:50. He only had 20 minutes and didn't even have breakfast. He noticed the computer was still on. He quickly saved the bit he had of his project, shoved a sandwich in his bag and left in a hurry. By the time he reached the downstairs floor, he realized he forgot his bookbag, had his house clothes on and wasn't even wearing socks. He cursed under his breath and went back. When he came back out, it was 8:30, he was almost half an hour late. He cut through the people, edging around cars and rushed into the school. He took his late slip and slowly dragged his feet to his first period class.

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