Diary of a 10-year-old Artist

September 17th, 2045

Okay. First off the bat, I just want to say one thing. I am not doing this on purpose! My name is Hannah Froll, I am 10 years old, and I am an artist!!! This is just a stupid assignment that I have to do for stupid school. If I don’t finish it by December, my art class will get cancelled!!! This is what Mrs. Beliani (my principal) wrote:

Dear Camilla and Stan Froll,

I regret to inform you that your daughter, Hannah, is failing in all of her classes except for art class. Enclosed, please find a journal that Hannah must complete before September 30th. Otherwise, Hannah will have to stop going to art class.

Deepest Sympathies,

Rholok Beliani

See what I mean?! I wish I could just fill this book with doodles, but no such luck. I have to do only writing, or it doesn’t count!!! Y’know what? I’m just going to start tomorrow. ‘Night!

September 18th, 2045

You would never believe what happened today. After school, I had soccer, and then math club, and then I had to go to this writing practice that my mom makes me go to.

But at writing class there’s this girl named Miela, and she is so mean! The worst part is, all the teachers think she’s an angel because she’s so good at writing. Her stories aren’t even that good!! She just writes about totally boring “perfect writing” stories that are “extremely well-written.” But today Ms. Perfect finally got in trouble. I know, right? Long overdue. The teacher caught her at last, being a jerk to me about my story, which was about a pig with superpowers.

She leaned over and said, “Really, Frolly.” (Her pet nickname for me.) “A pig could never get superpowers. Really.” That was when the teacher walked over.

Miela immediately switched back to “perfect mode,” but it was too late. The teacher had heard everything that she had said.

“Miela! I thought that you were better than that!”

I smiled, and Miela gulped. The teacher walked back to her desk and started filling out papers.

Miela glared at me and whispered through clenched teeth, “I’ll get you for this, Frolly.”

Oh, jeez. I never imagined that I would write this much. So, ‘night, future readers.

September 19th, 2045

Believe it or not, writing class might actually be bearable now!

I just found out that Miela was expelled!!!

She is such a tensndl! Oops. I forgot that I would get in trouble. I have to hand this in!!

But before that happened, I had a really weird day.

First, my best friend and I, Kiriana, had art, so I was really excited. We were talking about how we might get a new student tomorrow, so we were kind of happy (for school). But halfway there, my stomach seemed to contract, and I barfed all the way around the hallway, slipping and falling.

I woke up at home with my mom sitting over me, phone in hand.

“Hey,” she said. “Your writing class just called.”

That was when I learned that Miela had been expelled. I whipped out my diary, but then I realized what I was doing.

So, I’m just letting you know I still don’t like writing. Right?

September 20th, 2045

Today is officially the worst day of my life. You know the new student that I was talking about? It’s Miela!!! So now, I have made three enemies in school: Samson the football star, Onyo the cheerleader, and you-know-what. Mr. Aatri, my homeroom teacher, made an announcement to the class at the beginning of the day.

“Class, please welcome our new student, Miela.”

I was drinking a glass of water at the time and sprayed it all over Kalnis, who was sitting in front of me. He whipped around and glared at me.

“Watch it, dweeb,” he hissed, glaring at me.

At recess, Miela walked over to me, but I noticed a change in the way she looked at me. She looked almost… sorry.

“Hey,” she said. Then, she quickly said something like, “Really sorry. Do you want to be friends?” She looked up, and I smiled. She understood.

September 21, 2048

Guess what? Today, Mrs. Beliani called me to her office. The announcement was met with the typical response.

“OooOOOoooh,” the class said. All except for my now two friends.

I walked up the long hallway to my principal’s office. I was holding this diary in my hands, and I passed it to Mrs. Beliani. She flipped through it for a second, then looked up at me.

“Your work has improved greatly.” I was confused, so she spelled it out for me.

“You don’t have to do this anymore.” She expected me to smile, but I asked one question.

“Can I put in one more entry?”

She let me, but also asked me if I wanted to do it again.

And maybe I will.

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