Another story, lucky you.

>> Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Here's a story I'm writing for school about New York (yes it stops in the middle of a sentience).

The vibrant colors of a sunrise woke Rachel. “Ohh,” she moaned, and rolled over to look at the alarm clock. 6:13 in the morning. Rubbing her eyes and sighing, Rachel got out of bed and slipped into a pair of padded slippers. The autumn air chilled her room, so she cranked the heat up, and dressed quickly. It would be a busy day for her. Chores, then school, her little brother's football game, and a couple other things. After putting on work clothes, faded, ripped jeans and an old paint-y sweatshirt, she ventured over to the window for a few minutes of peace before the rest of the family woke up.
Rachel lived on a dairy farm with her family; her mother, father, little brother, and older brother. The farm was in New York, near the town of Pleasant Valley. Her mother and father helped run the farm, her big brother worked there, and recently, on her 14th birthday, Rachel herself had been allowed to work there 6 days a week, for pay. She also helped around the house, and worked on the family's small farming land, gardening, taking care of animals, and, to help her mom out, she cooked dinner regularly.
Rachel's window overlooked the side yard, which was empty at the moment. She could see rain falling lightly, the orchard trees swaying in the wind, and more importantly, she could hear cows mooing. “All right, all right, I'm coming!” She told them, and jumped up from the chair she had relaxed in.
Rachel had lived in Pleasant Valley all her life. It was a small town, the population only coming to near 9,000 people. She liked living in the rural area, though, where people didn't care if you wore your pajamas out to get the mail, or walked your dog through their yard. Well, some people didn't mind about the dog. The dairy was outside of the main town area, about 3 miles from any store. The few neighbors they had outside of town also owned farms, but the dairy was the biggest around. Still, it was a small organization. Family-oriented. Rachel walked to the door of her bedroom and opened it, turning the heater down a little bit before she hurried downstairs. Her mom was there making breakfast, her older brother, Kyle, was sitting at the table, and she guessed her dad was already in the dairy's office. “Good morning,” her mother, Lisa, said. Lisa flipped the eggs one more time, and then turned the heat off the burner. Facing her two oldest children, she asked them, “Who's ready for breakfast?” Kyle agreed heartily, and Rachel just yawned. She was hungry, but her brothers always out-ate her, no matter how much her stomach was rumbling. Rachel sat down at the table across from her big brother, nodding him a 'good morning', and poured herself a glass of orange juice. While her mom chattered on about plans for the day, Rachel kept silent, only asking an occasional question, but most of the time just nibbling on eggs and toast, or sipping away at the juice. She let Kyle do the talking.
Kyle was almost 17, a junior at Spackenkill High School (SHS), where Rachel was a freshman. He was a farm boy from birth, had never lived in a major city, and didn't care. He was born in the state of Washington, shortly before his family relocated to New York. His best friends were the cows and the boys on the soccer team, which was the only thing that made him at least slightly prominent in the school. He was a defender on the Spackenkill Spartans, and had been for 2 years. Even though it might have originally made him “popular”, Kyle didn't care a bit for the life of partying and goofing off. He continued to practice in the corn field and spend his free time working on his car or at the dairy, so the popular crowd left him alone. But he didn't care. It's who he was- a farm boy.
He listened to his mom talk, trying not to block it out like he so often did. He nodded replies in the right places (he hoped they were the right places), commented about his plans, and let Rachel ask the questions. Normally he would have some questions of his own, but that morning, he just wanted to get out of the house. When mom finished with her speech and went upstairs to wake up the youngest member of the family, Sam, Kyle turned to his little sister, Rachel. “If you want a ride to school, I'm leaving after 7:15,” he told her. Rachel nodded, and said, “Okay. Sure.” She was glad that Kyle had volunteered his truck. The rain didn't look like it was going to stop, and she didn't want to have to ride the school bus, or arrive at school looking like she had gone swimming in the lake. Her mom and little brother appeared from the stairway, but by then Rachel was finished with breakfast. “I'm going to do chores now, Mom.” she said quickly, and went to grab her raincoat and rubber boots. She opened the front door and quickly stepped outside, slamming the door shut and running to the barn, where the horses were stored. “Good morning Jimmy, morning Sunshine,” Rachel said. She went in, happy to be dry again, excepting the little leaks here and there. She took the brush and ran it through the two horse's coats. Rachel then went over and fed them, taking the usual steps in taking care of the animals. She would have loved to let them in the pasture, but it was wet and muddy, she didn't want to risk one of them breaking a limb. “Bye bye now,” she called, and left the barn. The rain had slowed down a little by then,

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