Interpretive Creative Writing 2014 Honorable Mention

Reece Kadota
Grade 6

A Somewhat Autobiography Of My Life, Rafe Khatchadorian

Ok, so you finished my book and you liked it… hopefully. Are you still there? Aw come on, don’t leave me! I know I can get a little cocky sometimes but I haven’t gotten that bad, have I? Anyway just stick with me. I still got another story to tell. So, anyway I bet you still have some questions that “need to be” answered. I’ll get to that in a second, but first let me tell you what happened that summer after school let out. (Remember, I was expelled) Whoopee for me, right? I still get to go to summer school! Yaaaay! NOT.

Ring ring. The telephone blared. It was a Saturday. Mom was taking a nap and Georgia was busy doing something, whatever she does. So that meant that I had to answer the phone.

Ring ring. The phone was starting to get irritating so I decided to finally get it.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Hi Rafe,” the voice said. I can recognize that voice anywhere. It belonged to Jeanne Galletta! OMG! It was Jeanne! She took time off to call me?! Didn’t I mention the day before I was expelled, Jeanne and I exchanged digits?

“The last day at school was hectic! You should have been there. No one could stop talking about it. And get this, we even had a pizza party, but I didn’t eat,” she rattled off. “I kinda missed you in class. I would have liked to think you’d behave for the last day of school party at least.” She missed me? “Anyway, are you busy? How about we go out for some ice cream cool off in this summer heat?” I tried to stay cool and remain calm, so I barely breathed, “Ok. Yeah. Sure.” “Maybe we’ll have time to go to the movies…”

“Yeah, sure that sounds like a great plan you got there. So what time are you going to pick me up?” She asked.

“I’ll swing by at noon?” I casually replied. I wish I had my license, but the Flinstone mode of transportation will have to do.

“Yeah, that would be perfect! I’ll be waiting outside when you come. My address is…” Whoa, whoa, whoa, timeout. Now I know that you know which part is fake. But honestly, she really did call me. A guy can dream can’t he? The last say of school there was a pizza party, and she offered to tutor me for the summer.

Here I am in summer school! I did the absolute minimum required work for my failing subjects and repainted my mural for the school. Luckily, Dragon Lady I mean Ms. Donatello wasn’t my summer school teacher. My teacher was, drumroll please, a person even worse. His name was Mr. Hamm. He was worse because, first off, he packed us with homework. He yelled louder. He was way stricter. He was everything that you would NOT want in a teacher. Oh and remember Bear? Guess what? Bear sent Mom a ‘care package’. Luckily, mom was taking a nap when we I intercepted it. Inside was yet another letter saying that he was sorry and to please forgive him, with another teddy bear. I did the same thing to it as I did with my report card. In case you forgot what I did with my report card, I went to the nearby stream, crumpled it up, made a fire, burned the letter, and then, kicked the remaining ashes into the water.

Now in the beginning of this essay, I mentioned that I would answer some of the unanswered questions. It was too personal to tell you in the book Middle School the Worst Years of my Life. To tell you here is safer because well it is just between you and me. This is a touchy subject but I can trust you. Right? Aw come on, don’t stop reading now just because this is going to be a tear jerking moment. My story is actually pretty cool. So listen ok? One of the questions that popped into my head when I was writing was: If Bear was my stepdad, who was my real dad? I know the answer but I thought that you might ask that question. Ok, so my real dad, his name was Pablo. (My mom told me his name. She also told me that he was nicer than Bear. They met at a diner. He used to be a waiter just like my mom. She must have found something appealing about him. You know the saying, ‘love at first sight’? Well, it was like that for my mom and dad literally. He passed away when Leo and I were born. He was at the same hospital as us but in a different room. He died because of meningitis. I found out that meningitis is gene related. That is why Leo passed at such a young age. So that must mean that my dad’s dad must have had it. Or maybe his mom might have had it. Bottom line, they were victims of meningitis. Now that I think about it, it isn’t very cool. Now not only is my real father and twin brother dead, but now I’m scared that I will get meningitis.

Maybe another question would have been, if you I ever get tired of Leo, would I be popular? While I’m not a total loner, but let’s face it, Leo is a figment of my imagination and doesn’t quite compare to a real human being. I don’t know what’s in store for me next year, but you’ll just have to stay tuned and wait for my sequel, Rafe Khatchadorian: Wackiness is the Spice of Life.