Denzer 1
Sample Creative Non Fiction Essay on an injustice
Brittany Denzer
BubbleYum or Bust
Suddenly all movement stopped. He raised his head and across his face was the most cynical grin I’d ever seen in my eight years of life. In his hands there was my little secret. He hadn’t found what he was originally looking for, but had discovered the one and only key to my doom.
It was the second week of school, but I had already established my place as third grade class representative, teacher’s pet and top A.R. point reader. As soon as my mother pulled up to the unloading zone of the roundabout at Konawaena Elementary (at promptly 7:30am), I would rush out of the car (but no running, because that’s against the rules!), and head for the library. I would plop my face down in front of the first Apple computer on the left and click open the rollie-pollie icon on the desktop. The screen would fill with the colorful, computer-animated world of Bugdom, and I would start my journey as a rollie-pollie through the endless levels of grass, pond and lily pad mazes. There I would sit until 8:00am, when the warning bell buzzed and I needed to head to class.
It was in during one of my Bugdom sessions when I had my first encounter with Sage. Sage was a tiny Japanese boy whose face was always occupied by the expression of determination. He plunked himself down on the seat next to me and furiously began attacking the keys as if he were playing Whack-A-Mole.
“Wow, you type fast,” I cooed slowly, my eyes glued to the growing line of characters on the screen.
“Yeah, my dad got me this pirate typing thing for my, uh…” he mumbled then drifted off. While my eyes were glued to the screen, his were cemented. His mouth hung open and he was breathing extremely hard. This typing thing must take a lot of concentration, I thought.
“Birthday? He got it for you on your birthday?” I questioned, hoping to be of help. He continued his trance-like state of clanking keys and without breaking rhythm, nodded his head. He doesn’t want to be bothered, I figured. Oh well, back to Bugdom.
Sage made a habit of coming to the library computers every morning. Our conversations stayed on a how’s-the-weather basis, or in elementary school terms, how’s-the-school-lunch, and never lasted more than a minute or two. That was until an extremely unusual day. It was the day Sage jeopardized everything.
It started off like any morning. Sage shuffling in with his elephant sized bag and making his way to the seat next to me. But today, rather than quickly jabbing the power button on, he pulled out a worksheet, and with the same robotic movement as his typing, started scribbling answers on it. My eyes lingered on his odd behavior for a moment before losing interest and turning back to my screen. Suddenly out of the library silence I heard Sage whisper something to me.
“Can I borrow an eraser?” he breathed. On my screen I was racing toward the final key to unlock the door to the next level while being chased by a fat caterpillar. Not wanting to disturb my nearly triumphant game, I told him to just reach into the front pocket of my bag and get it himself.
I heard the whiz of the zipper on my book-bag slide open and the clanking of new school supplies banging around. I whizzed through the last door and a window came up saying I had beat level three. With a delighted sight, I leaned over the back of my chair to see if Sage had found what he was looking for. His hands were vigorously flying through the pocket. Suddenly all movement stopped. He raised his head and across his face was the most cynical grin I’d ever seen in my eight years of life. In his hands there was my little secret. He hadn’t found what he was originally looking for, but had discovered the one and only key to my doom, my BubbleYum bubblegum.
Everyone, especially me as third grade representative, knew bubblegum was contraband at school. The previous day, I had bought myself a pack of BubbleYum at the gas station near my bus stop. It was so exhilarated to know I had purchased, all on my own, the coolest gum ever. I unzipped my school bag and threw the little pink package in without thinking. This was turning bad.
“You better give me a piece or I’ll tell on you that you have gum,” Sage sneered. Not wanting to cause any trouble, I put my hands up and surrendered a piece. “And you better bring me a new pack tomorrow or else I’ll tell on you,” he added. My brain felt like it was going to fry. This could ruin everything! Everyone would be so disappointed.
“Okay,” I squeaked meekly, trying not to let the fear in me arise in my voice.
Getting gum the first day was a breeze. Mom had an exhausting day at work and wanted to drop by the grocery store to pick up some easy-cook food. While she moseyed up and down the aisles of TV dinners and frozen pizza, I crept up to the candy section. Like James Bond on a mission, I inconspicuously grabbed a pack of Watermelon BubbleYum and raced to the register. I paid my eighty-nine cents, stuck my ransom in my pocket and rejoined my mom, who was busy scrutinizing a roasted chicken.
The second day, I found out about a study meeting for the Newbery Quiz Bowl. I was instructed to bring a bag of chips, so we stopped at the grocery store again. This time I slipped the tiny package onto the conveyer belt behind the chips. Beep. Beep. I peered over the edge of the register and saw the gum fall into the plastic bag after the colossal bag of Doritos. My mom didn’t seem to notice.
By the third day, I was so anxious about my situation I started forgetting to finish my homework. My every thought orbited around how I would get the next pack of BubbleYum. When my mom pulled up to the school that day I immediately started reciting my thoroughly practiced speech.
“Mom? Can we stop by the store so I can get something?” I asked desperately. “I know exactly where it is and you don’t even have to come in! It will be, like, two seconds.”
“Not today,” she said sternly. She was obviously focused on getting home quickly to do something more important, like the laundry. That heat in my forehead I had become so acquainted with the last few days came back and I felt that slowly inflating bubble finally pop.
“But Mom, you just don’t understand!” I stuttered. “I need the bubblegum. I’m going to get in trouble.” By this point I was wailing.
“Bubblegum?” my mom exclaimed. “Brittany, what’s going on? Talk to me,” she said in her warm, motherly voice. And the story spilled. The heat in my forehead went away and I let go a sigh of relief.
My mother wrote a letter to the school explaining what had happened. Sage and I had a meeting with the counselor who made us walk the “peace path,” a cardboard cutout, which looks like a hopscotch pattern. I hated each minute of it because it required me saying things like “I forgive you Sage for blackmailing me into giving you gum,” which seemed ridiculous. My fingers were crossed behind my back the whole time. But by the end of the exercise I no longer felt like exploding.
The next day I went to my usual computer space and opened Bugdom. Sage didn’t come to the library that day, or the next, or the day after that. I found myself slamming the pause button on whenever someone sat next to me, taking a moment to see if it was Sage, but every time my hopes were crushed and I returned to my game.I later discovered he had found a computer in his teacher’s room he was allowed to use. And as for gum, I never bought another pack throughout elementary school. Not even the coolest gum you could have, BubbleYum.