Struck by Lightning: The Carson Phillips Journal Read Online Free Page B

Frenching. He’s traveled across many borders just to put his hands below other borders. I’ll stop with the metaphors; you get it.
    “That’s great, Emilio, we’ll create a special patriotic section just for you,” I said, looking over my notes. “Now what about creative writing? Does anyone have any essays or short stories or—”
    “I’ve written a short story for the Chronicle ,” Malerie said, raising her hand.
    “Let’s hear it!” I said.
    Malerie nervously stood up and made eye contact with everyone before reading.
    “This is written by Malerie,” she made clear, and began. “‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of—’”

    “Malerie,” I cut her off.
    “Yes?”
    “You didn’t write that.”
    She looked at me very confused, as if I was telling a child she didn’t actually come from the stork.
    “But it’s in my handwriting,” she said. “But if you don’t believe me…” She didn’t finish the thought and just sat back down.
    If the Pillsbury Doughboy had a sister, I imagine Malerie would be her look-alike. She’s short and round and a little… different . I wouldn’t say she’s slow , I’d just say other boats make it to the island before hers. She struggles a bit with concentration, metabolism, and plagiarism…but who’s perfect?
    Malerie has also carried an old camcorder around for as long as I’ve known her. She films everything . I used to find it intriguing when she first joined journalism class, sensing there might be the potential for a strong reporter in her, but now that I know creative writing is her passion it just worries me. What does she do with all that footage?
    I eventually reached my favorite part of class: my assignment .

    “As you may have guessed, I’ll be tackling another local issues piece this week,” I informed them. “My article last week, ‘Small-Town Sex Scandal,’ was a huge hit on the Chronicle ’s Facebook page.…It was about Mr. Armbrooster, the health teacher who was fired after using Gumby and Play-Doh to teach lessons about the female reproductive system.”
    Crickets. Statues in the Louvre would have been more interested. The bell rang and, like dogs at feeding time, everyone ran straight for the door.
    “Don’t forget there’s a Writers’ Club meeting after school if any of you changed your minds about joining!” I called out after them. “Or changed your personalities…”
    I went to the board and erased Clover High Chronicle, editor, Carson Phillips and wrote, Writers’ Club, president, Carson Phillips . There’s something about doing this that gives me satisfaction every time. Even with all the bullshit I put up with, I still take pride that these clubs are still around.
    I usually spend lunch replacing old “Join the Writers’ Club” posters with new ones, as they’re pretty much always the first targeted by vandals. I find it painfullyironic that those illiterate bastards tag YOU SUCH COCK on posters trying to attract writers.
    The Clover High club system is intense. There’s really nothing to do in this town, so students basically have no choice but to join after-school clubs for their own sanity.
THE CLUBS:
The Cheerleading Club: Also known as the Future Trophy Wives and Soccer Moms Club. The cheerleaders travel around campus in a vicious pack, emotionally scarring innocent bystanders they encounter. Warning: They do everything as a team, including menstruate.
The Athletes’ Club: Jock central. They don’t just play sports and measure each other’s organs; they also practice character-building exercises like “Smell My Finger.”
The Yearbook Club: Freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors alike gather here and put together pictures and memorablequotes that totally rewrite history so the lies they tell their grandchildren will appear truthful.
The Drama Club: A place where boys can freely dress up and wear makeup and girls can spend years afterward wondering why those boys