Short Stories (By Stella Rosewood)

Hello! I've been writing a bunch of short stories for school and decided to put them on here because why not. I hope you like them!
== The Cheez-It Problem ==
I walked into my second class of the day, social studies. 
“Hey!” my best friend Amira called to me. 
I smiled and sat down next to her. “What are we learning today?” 
Our teacher, Mr. Faris, replied, “Ancient Egypt. We are going to go over how they farmed.” He pulled up a slideshow on the whiteboard. It had a picture of an ancient scientist as well as some facts. 
“Hey, what’s with that picture?” Mr. Faris asked, inspecting the scientist picture. “It’s photoshopped!” Then he shrugged. “Whatever, I don’t have time to fix it. Let’s continue.” 
I thought it looked interesting so I read the facts first, but giggling to my right made me look over. It was Bryan. He wouldn’t stop laughing. 
“What’s so funny?” I asked. 
Bryan pointed to the board. “T-that scientist guy!!” 
I looked at the picture and it looked just like another weird photoshopped picture to me. “What about it?”
“He’s holding a block of cheese!” another classmate exclaimed. 
“Yeah, and there’s cheese all in the picture!”
“No, no, no!” Bryan responded indignantly. “Not plain cheese! It’s Cheez-Its. Look!” He gestured over, and it did seem to be that way. “He really must have had a cheese party or something!” 
Everyone laughed, including Amira and me. It was really funny, come to think of it. 
“Lunch is next,” Bryan said thoughtfully. “Anyone bring Cheez-Its?” 
Somehow, about half the class nodded. 
“BRING THEM!” Byran shouted, startling me so bad I nearly fell out of my chair. “We can have our own Cheez-Its party in the cafeteria!” 
“Oh yeah!” my classmate Ida yelled from across the room. “We can h-” 
“Now, now,” Mr. Faris began, “let’s settle down. Back to the lesson…” 
My class filed out of Mr. Faris’ classroom and went to our lockers before lunch. Amira waited for me while I grabbed my lunchbox, then shut my locker closed with a satisfying slam! We walked down together. 
I sat at my usual table with Amira, Mirian, and Evan, my 3 best friends. We ate lunch as normal, but all of a sudden, there was a scream behind me. I spun around to see yellow everywhere. 
“What happened?!” I asked in shock. 
“I-It’s the…” Amira tried to begin. She looked like she was going to faint. “T-the Cheez-Its!” 
Indeed she was right. That mischievous group of kids from my S.S. class had thrown Chhez-Its all over the cafeteria. 
An angry lunch monitor stormed up to the group. “What happened here?!” She leaned in and glared at them. “Was this you kids?” 
Bryan, Ida, and the others looked down. “Yes…” Ida mumbled truthfully. She looked up. ‘I-It was supposed to be funny!” 
The lunch monitor looked disapprovingly at them. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go to the principal’s office.” She led them away and stuck something on the wall as she went.
The next day, one of my classmates, Kenny, came into math class asking, “What’s that purple sign for by the main entrance? What happened with Cheez-Its?” 
I sighed, remembering. “Looooong story. But it all started with some weird photoshopped picture in social studies.” 
The end!
== Unexpected Instruments (And Friends) ==
Charlotte stepped up in front of the microphone. Her hands were trembling but she pushed away her nervousness. 
“H-Hi, my name is Charlotte,” she began quietly. She looked out into the audience and tried to smile. “I am here today to play a song on my clarinet.” She took her instrument in her other hand and lifted it up to her mouth. 
She started playing her favorite song, Firework by Katy Perry, her fingers touching the cold, smooth metal easily. She began quietly, then got louder and more confident. The notes came out easily and Charlotte felt like no one was watching her. She felt like she did even better than she practiced at home. 
She stopped and stared out at the crowd. After a moment, there was loud applause. Charlotte felt warm with happiness. She seemed to have done well. 
Charlotte’s band teacher, Miss Karla, walked onto the stage. “Thank you,” she said. She looked kindly at Charlotte. “Charlotte did a most excellent job of playing a solo, from memory, even! Great job!” 
The crowd applauded again. 
“And next, we have Della Finnley on the viola!” Miss Karla announced. 
Della waltzed onto the stage, her viola and bow in hand. She strutted up to the microphone and said, “Hey, guys! My name’s Della, and I’m going to play The Champion by Carrie Underwood today.” She didn’t look nervous at all. 
Della began playing. It seemed that she didn’t have any trouble either. 
Charlotte began to get nervous as her opponent continued to play. This was their Soloist Music Competition. Any student could come up, on any instrument, and play a song in front of an audience. There would most likely be only one winner. 
Della finished up and gazed out at the audience as they clapped. “Thank you!” 
Charlotte and the other students that had gone before her came back on the stage and bowed. She had been fine during her performance but now the anxiety came back. What was going to happen? 
After around 10 minutes of waiting, the announcer came up to the stage to reveal the results. 
“And… the winner is… Alan Hozbo!” 
Charlotte’s heart sank. She didn’t win. 
Suddenly, Della came over to her with a sympathetic expression. 
“Hey, good job,” she said. “You were really good, even though you seemed nervous.” 
“Thanks,” Charlotte replied. “You too.” 
“You know, I think our playing would sound good together,” Della said. “Want to practice together sometime?” 
“Um… sure,” Charlotte said, smiling. “Thanks! That would be great.” 
“Okay!” Della exclaimed. She grinned. “This will be awesome!” 
“Hey, can I join you?” Alan asked, coming up to them. He didn’t carry an instrument because he couldn’t bring a piano over. 
“Sure,” Charlotte answered. She knew that the more instruments, the better the end result would sound. 
“Cool! Thanks!” Alan said. “Even though we’re playing different instruments, this experience will be interesting!” 
“Yes, it will,” Della said. 
The End!
== This... Didn't... Happen... At Basketball Camp ==
This… didn’t… happen. 
Let me explain things. I was at basketball practice on June 13th. However, my team isn’t exactly always nice to me. One of my teammates, Oliver, always picks on me. Every day. 
“You’re dribbling wrong!” “You aren’t tall enough to play!” “Why in the world did you just do that?” Etc. 
Now, I am normally pretty brave. But sometimes it just doesn’t come to me. 
Anyway, another thing about Oliver is that he rarely messes up on anything. I’ve only ever seen him mess up twice, when Coach Len wasn’t watching. It’s such an uncommon circumstance that I swear he does it on purpose, just when he thinks no one is looking. 
I was the first person to join Coach Len on the court today. I jogged over and said, “Hi, Coach!” 
“Hi, Marina,” he said, staring at his phone. Then he stopped. “Wait, you’re here early? Usually Oliver is the first.” 
Of course he is, I mentally grumbled. What a surprise. I had never been early enough to see how many people were there before the official beginning time—this was the first time I had ever been earlier than anyone else. Usually, I’m always one of the last people to join the team on the court—not the very last, but somewhere in the middle—so this was new. 
“I guess,” I replied. I grimaced. “Oliver is first?” 
“Most of the time,” Coach answered. He smiled down at me. “Not today, though!” 
I felt warm inside. I almost never felt… actually appreciated in basketball. Between Oliver and the other bigger, taller kids, I was the outcast, never been kind to. 
Soon, the gym started filling up with kids. Most of them were 10th graders, a year above me, but there were a few 9th graders like me. And Oliver and his friend who also loved to torment me, Tim, were surprisingly in 8th grade. I wondered why I’d never countered Oliver and Tim’s meanness with that. 
The bolder sense awakened inside of me, and I made a fist, not to fight, just a sign of determination. I smiled; my brave side was back. 
I decided to do two things today: 1, get my payback for all the teasing over this year, and 2, try to do something better than Oliver. He may be in 8th grade and be younger than me, but he sure must practice a lot at home to get this good. 
“Alright, line up!” Coach Len ordered, clapping his hands and blowing his whistle. “Time to make sure everyone is here!” We all lined up, and I went to the front today. 
“Marina?” Coach asked, blinking in surprise. “In front today, huh?” He nodded in approval and checked my name off the list. “Oliver?” he asked since Oliver made sure to be behind me every practice. I turned back and he wasn’t there. What was happening already? Oliver was obsessed with basketball and was never late unless he had an excuse. Huh. 
“Okay, maybe not there today,” Coach Len said, moving to the next name. 
We went through the whole attendance list, and when we got to the end of the line, Oliver was still mysteriously absent. 
“That’s odd,” Coach said, scratching his head. He looked at us gathered around him. “Anyway, let’s begin.” 
I just began my practice shooting hoops when the sound of skidding shoes stole my attention. I turned around, my ball missing the hoop completely. 
It was Oliver! “Sorry, Coach,” he panted, coming into the gym. “I had to help my brother with some homework.” 
That was an odd excuse, but Coach let it slide. 
“That’s alright,” he said. “Now you can join us. We’re just practicing shooting.” 
Oliver nodded obediently and raced over to my hoop. He smirked at me. “Not doing well?” he asked, pointing to my fallen ball. 
I growled. “Stop, Oliver! I’m tired of you being mean to me all the time!” 
Oliver took a step back in shock. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop.” He didn’t explain any more, so I didn’t press. But he didn’t do anything to me the whole time. 
Suddenly, Oliver tripped on his shoelaces. Coach Len helped him up, but that wasn’t the end of Oliver’s troubles. By the end of practice, he was tired and frowning. He had missed most of his shots today. 
This… didn’t… happen. Oliver never missed that much—really at all! 
Oliver came over to me and apologized. “Sorry I’ve been mean. I’ve just been really tired. I stay up late practicing and I was so tired I almost fell asleep on my feet.” 
Oh. “That’s okay,” I said. “Understandable.” 
Oliver looked at me in surprise. “Really? You aren’t going to tease me? Even after all I’ve done to you?” 
I shook my head. “Nope! I get it!” 
Oliver smiled. “Good! Now let’s get home.” 
The End!
== Better to Be Safe Than Sorry ==
Brooklyn Sparrows walked through the hallways of her new middle school. Her long blonde hair hung behind her. 
Brooklyn looked down at her schedule in her hand. “First I have... “—she squinted to read the tiny print—“science in room 106. Where’s that, though?” She scanned the hallway she was in but only found the numbers 110, 112, and 113. 
“Rats,” she muttered. “Now I have to go backwards.” 
She turned around and backtracked her steps. She was so focused on the room numbers that she didn’t see a girl come right at her. They crashed into each other. 
“Oww…” the girl said, rubbing her head. “Sorry, I thought you saw me.” 
“No,” Brooklyn apologized. She straightened her sparkly headband. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She gestured to the classrooms. “It’s my first day here. I moved from Wisconsin.” 
The girl smiled. “Ooh, cool! Welcome to Michigan! Actually, you probably don’t know this, but school here started only a week ago. I’m in 6th grade. You know, the first grade we get in middle school, so I’m actually pretty new too!” The girl stuck her hand out. “My name’s Lana. Yours?” 
Brooklyn shyly shook Lana’s hand, then replied, “Brooklyn. You can call me Brooke if you want.” 
“Awesomesauce!” Lana exclaimed. She grinned. “I’m glad I found a friend. No one usually sits next to me at lunch.” 
“Really?” Brooklyn asked curiously, surprised. Lana seemed like the kind of person that wouldn’t have any trouble at all making friends. 
Lana’s smile fell and she looked at her feet. “Well, a lot of people don’t like how I talk this much. It’s okay by you though, right?” 
Brooklyn nodded. “Of course!” 
Lana perked up again. “Thanks. Hey, do you need help finding your class?” 
Brooklyn was wary of help, especially in public places like school. She knew it made her seem… well, she didn’t want to say stupid, so the next nicest word was not exactly smart. 
“Yes…” she answered quietly. 
Lana grabbed Brooklyn’s arm. “Okay! What do you have first?” She peered over Brooklyn’s shoulder to read her schedule. “Science with Mr. Calino? Hey, me too!” 
Brooklyn gave a small smile. “Yay! Or as you’d say, awesomesauce!” 
Lana laughed and led Brooklyn down the hallway they were in and turned right twice. Lana stopped in front of a room near the entrance of the school. 
“Here we are!” said Lana. “Come in! Mr. Calino is sometimes strict but he lets us do lots of fun things!” 
Great, Brooklyn thought. A strict teacher to start the day. At least Lana is here. She is my first friend here in Michigan. 
“Good morning, Lana,” the teacher, a tall man with black hair, said. He looked at Brooklyn, an expression of puzzlement on his face. “And who’s this?” 
“This is Brooklyn,” Lana answered for her. “You guys can call her Brooke. She’s new and from Wisconsin.” 
Mr. Calino’s expression cleared. “Ah, yes. I remember Mrs. Sandoff—our principal,” he added to Brooklyn, “mentioning a new student. Class, say hello to Brooklyn!” 
The class said hi, and Brooklyn felt better about being here already. Yes, she missed her friends, but these kids seemed to be nice as well. 
“Please take a seat next to Callie,” Mr. Calino ordered, pointing to a seat next to a girl with brown hair in braids and bright green eyes. 
Callie blinked at Brooklyn. “Hi, Brooke! So glad you’re in our class! You look totally nice!” 
“Umm… thanks?” Brooklyn said, sitting down in her seat. She glanced around the class to see where Lana sat. Unfortunately, Lana’s seat was in the back of the classroom. She sighed and looked over at Callie. “So you’re Callie?” 
Callie nodded, making her braids bounce up and down. “Yep! You’re gonna love being here! Oh, by the way, you can totally sit with me and my friends at lunch! We’re friends now!” 
We are? Brooklyn thought but kept the thought to herself. Girl, I literally just met you! But whatever. Maybe Lana and Callie are friends and they sit next to each other anyway! Then I can sit with them both!
Both girls Brooklyn had met so far seemed to be very kind. Even Lana didn’t specifically say she could sit with her at lunch! 
“Alright,” Mr. Calino began, making the talking among the class cease. “Let’s begin.” 
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Brooklyn skipped happily through the many hallways of the middle school, Lana and Callie beside her. Callie had had many classes with Brooklyn, which was cool. Callie seemed to be really nice.
Lana stopped at an open door. “Gotta go now,” she said quickly. She looked at the classroom. “This is my class. Bye, Brooke!” Then she added quieter, “Bye, Callie.” She spun around and went into the classroom. 
“Why’d she do that to you?” Brooklyn asked as she and Callie walked on. Lana didn’t seem to be the type to ignore one person out of two. Unless, she wondered, Callie was mean to her or something. That’d explain it. 
Callie sighed. “Oh.” She stopped walking and turned to whisper into Brooklyn’s ear, “She’s just mad that I won’t let her into my friend group.” 
Brooklyn gasped. Lana didn’t like Callie because she didn’t let her into her friend group? “Why?”
Callie shrugged innocently. “I asked her if she wanted to join before, but she said no. Don’t blame me.” 
Brooklyn felt betrayed. Callie had seemed so nice! Were these her true colors? 
“Oh, don’t worry!” Callie began quickly. She smiled over at Brooklyn. “I’m not going to stop you from coming into my group! Also, I never mentioned it to you yet, but I’m popular. Most kids want to sit with me, but I don’t let too many people join. Table space reasons, of course. Besides, Lana never asked again. I’d let her in if she wanted.” 
Brooklyn exhaled in relief. “Good.” 
After her next class, Brooklyn walked into the cafeteria, led by Lana. “Who do you sit by?” she asked.
Lana pointed over to an empty table by the edge of the cafeteria. “There. No one sits there. Just me.” She sighed. 
“I’ll sit with you!” Brooklyn promised, then remembered what Callie had said. “Well, Callie invited me to sit with her.” 
“Oh, Callie?” Lana frowned. “She’s totally mean. I asked so many times if I could sit with her and her friends, but she said no. Every time.” 
Brooklyn was taken aback. Callie had lied to her! Lana did ask about joining, but she wouldn’t let her in! 
“Should I not go?” Brooklyn asked quietly to Lana. Suddenly, Callie came over. “Brooke, you still coming?” 
*I ran out of time but I almost finished. Since I technically can’t write more now and there’s only a little left I need to add that shows the prompt, I’ll add the rest under here. Sorry! (I write too much.)*  
Brooklyn thought for a moment. All of a sudden, she felt brave, unlike her usual self. “Callie,” she began, “you lied to me.” 
Callie blinked in fake innocence. “What?” 
Brooklyn’s face hardened. “Lana says she asked many times to join your group but you always said no!” 
Callie shrugged, her secret uncovered. “Yeah. But you’re different! I won’t do that to you!” 
Brooklyn felt like Callie meant it, but she shook her head. “Better to be safe than sorry,” she reminded her. She turned away from Callie. “I can’t be sure that I can trust you, so I’m sitting with Lana. Goodbye.” 
Callie turned around and stormed back to her table. Brooklyn looked at Lana and knew she did the right thing. 
The End!
== The Earth Power ==
I step forward into the greenhouse, my hands trembling with excitement. This is my day to see if I have the Earth power. 
Starting at the time you turn 11 in our world, you get tested twice a year to see if you’ve manifested your power yet. It’s possible for it to happen without being triggered, but it is way less likely. My math teacher said that it’s about a 3% chance that you’ll manifest without assistance. That’s a pretty small chance. 
Today, July 27th, is my half-birthday, so I’m currently 13 ½. My powers, whatever it is, is taking SOOO long to appear. 
But I feel like today will finally be the day it happens. 
As I walk inside the greenhouse, the smell of flowers and fruit rushes into my nose. I inhale deeply; it smells so good. 
To trigger a power, you have to lay your hands down on the floor or ground of wherever you are and try to do something with that power. For the Ocean power, for example, you have to sit with your hands on the beach and try to control the waves. It has never worked for me. 
My hands brushing the dirt, I squeeze my eyes closed and imagine myself making vines grow out of the ground beside me. I put more effort, more power, into it and the vines grow so tall they touch the ceiling. 
I feel like I’m doing it.
And I keep trying, harder and harder. 
I open my eyes, breathless, to see if it worked. Towering above me are vines. They really do reach the ceiling of the greenhouse dome. 
“Congratulations, Calla!” a female voice says behind me. I jump, then turn around, seeing Ms. Maddie. She is the supervisor for all Power Tests, and I completely forgot she was watching me as I concentrated on making the vines. 
“Now you can train in your power at home,” she says, smiling warmly at me. 
My face flushes with pride and embarrassment. “Thanks,” I say. 
“Go on!” Ms. Maddie says, motioning towards the exit. “You must go tell your parents and sister!” 
I grin and run out of the greenhouse, sending my straight green hair (I dyed it last week just for fun) flying behind me, though not before I say goodbye to Ms. Maddie and thank her and snap my fingers to lower the vines for the next kid to come in. 
On the way out, I bump into James, the bully from school. He looks down at me from his 5-foot-tall dominance and says, “You didn’t make it, Calla, did you?” 
“Wrong,” I reply with a smirk. I push out my hand in front of me and make vines appear around him. “Haha.” 
James glares at me and growls, “‘Haha’ to you too.” He uses his Steel Power to break my vines with a slash of his hand. “Too weak.” 
I don’t care what he says, I’m just happy to finally have my power. “Quit ruining my day,” I reply hotly and run away. Not because I’m a coward, just because I am DONE with James being mean. 
As I go away, James calls back, “You’ll never be able to make strong vines!” 
Ugh. 
***********
Every day at home, I practice making vines and shaking the ground in my backyard. It’s huge, with a swing set and other playground equipment for my little sister Sophia, a bunch of trees, some open land, and a swimming pool. 
I crouch down next to my favorite tree, a willow, and touch the ground with my fingertips. I focus and use what I believe to be the willow tree’s strength to force large vines out of the ground. The earth trembles and I feel the vines burst free. 
“Wooooooaaaaaah!!!” Sophia exclaims, coming over to me as I open my eyes. “That was AWESOME!” 
I grin and reply, “Thanks.” I stand up and touch what I created. They really are strong. Even my fingernails, which are surprisingly sharp and long, barely scratch them. 
“You’ve gotten good,” my 9-year-old sister remarks. She squeals in excitement. “I can’t wait until I get my power!” 
“I bet you’ll be great at it,” I assure her. I really think she will, too. 
All of a sudden, I get a great idea and smirk at my plan. 
The next day at school, I find James after class and make him come to the playground for the 1st-6th graders. 
“Hey, look what I did!” I say confidently and bring vines up from the ground. 
James gapes at me. “Wh-wh-how?!” 
“I told you so!” I sing and exit the playground, putting my backpack on and getting ready to walk home. “Try cutting them.” 
James smiles and tries slashing through my vines, but all that happens is they get scratched. 
“AUGHGHGHGH!” he yells in frustration. “HOW DID YOU GET SO GOOD?” 
“Practice,” I reply and head off for home, clapping my hands to make the vines shrink and disappear. 
I guess all it takes to beat a bully and get better at stuff is to 1. Be brave, and 2. Keep practicing. 
The End!
== Left Hand ==
“BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!”
The bell announcing that we have to go to our next class rings loudly. My classmates and I cover our ears from the piercing noise. 
I grab my supplies (my computer, music folder, normal folder, and supply pouch) and walk out of the math classroom. “Ugh,” I groan to my best friend Leora. “They really need to make that quieter.” 
“And high-pitched,” Leora adds, rolling her eyes. “What class do you have next?” 
Exhilaration soars through my body as I remember that today is one of the best days of the week: orchestra day! Orchestra is by far my favorite school subject, and playing the violin is one of my biggest passions. 
“It’s orchestra, right?” Leora confirms. She comments with a smile, “You look so enthusiastic that I can tell easily.” 
A grin appears on my face. “Is it that obvious?” We break into a fit of giggles. 
“Well, I gotta go,” I say and start darting away down the hallway. “Byeeee!” 
Leora waves. 
I skid into the orchestra room, a silly grin still on my face. I force myself to settle down and plop into my assigned seat. In music terms, I’m in the 2nd chair for the First Violins. My stand partner Bree is already here. 
“Excited, Karli?” she asks. I can tell she’s being sarcastic because the orchestra knows me rather well. A little too well, actually. I’m the type of person who shares a bunch of things with people. 
“Uh, yeah!” I exclaim, taking out my music folder and taking one of my favorite concert songs, Ice Blossoms, out. It’s a peaceful song and sounds really good on a violin. I begin to practice as my other classmates trickle into the classroom. My teacher, Ms. Martin, walks into the room as well. 
“Ready to begin, orchestra?” she calls over the chattering. I nod vigorously. “Today we are going to start learning vibrato!” 
I squeal in excitement, ignoring the burning but amused stares of the other kids. By the “burning” stares, this is what I mean: it feels like what happens when someone is staring at you because they think you’re weird or something, but this also feels like they’re amused by what you’re doing. Yeah, you can tell I’m the ultimate fan of orchestra. 
Ms. Martin begins to show us an exercise we can use on our left hand to practice the vibrato motion. “Don’t forget that you need to be able to hold your instrument up—not the cellos and basses, of course—without relying on your hand and arm.” 
I try to do what she says and copy her motions. “Good job,” Ms. Martin says to various classmates, including me. Another smile appears on my face. I really can’t stop smiling today. 
She teaches us a few more things, then steps back and lets us try it on our own. I do the hand exercise a few times to practice, then I try flicking my arm and shaking my fingers kinda like a boomerang, as Ms. Martin told us to do with pizzicato. I feel confident, so I nervously make the bow hold on my bow and lift it to my string. It makes a slight noise as I take a deep breath and try playing. My arm and wrist shake. It doesn’t feel quite right, though, but still. 
“Amazing job!” Ms. Martin suddenly shouts, magically appearing at my side. “It’s not completely perfect,” she comments, “but that’s astonishing for your first day.” 
My face heats up as I blush in embarrassment. Most students probably don’t get that on their first day of practice. 
“See, this is why you need to continue doing the hand exercises,” she continues. “You’re doing well. If you keep practicing, you can be a professional at it in no time!” 
I grin and stare down at my hands and violin. Who knew I could do so good? Though I suppose that I have been practicing excessively. 
My left hand, I think. My left hand is the key to becoming a professional violinist, which has always been my dream. I make the hand motion. I can do this! 
The end!