Personal Narrative: John Pickett High School

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Breath was rushing out the kid who wore a Gray and blue uniform, the boy 's hair was black and poked straight up in twisted curls, he had brown eyes that looked like dirt, he was strong and athletic, his name was D’haquille Jones, and I was DhaQuille Jones, staring down at the newly glazed floorboards of John Pickett high school gym. The ref blew the whistle signaling that our time out was over, and all we had was thirteen precious seconds to beat the Valencia high. I jogged onto the court, adrenaline rushing through my body. The ref tossed the ball towards Chris, once he had found the open man he lobbed it over the oncoming defender. Calling for the ball I sprinted around my defender to get open. I Felt the sticky grip of the ball in my hand thinking of it as if I was holding the entire game. I ignored the fans screaming my name and cheering me on. My feet pounded the floor one by one as the ball bounced up and down on the court, with only five seconds I found my lane and took it. Their was the clock taunting me, four,…show more content…
When I stepped outside the school, the cool wind gently brushed my face. I walked to my bus, strutted up the bus stairs and took my seat in the far back where no one could annoy me. The bus ride seemed like forever watching the city go by, I was the second to last stop, but I liked being last it gave me more time to do homework on the bus. The bus came to halt in my neighborhood, and I walked off the bus towards the large house at the end of the street, the house was a massive, modern structure. I slowly walked in the house and plopped down on the white comfy couch. I sat there and took out the language arts homework, after only a few minutes I was done. My family was known for their brains, my dad went to Harvard and my mom went to Yale. The doorbell rang while I was in the library finishing my studies, I got up and walked to the door. Standing in the doorway was my best friend
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