“Where’s my pen?” I seethed. I was fuming. I was furious. It was the 7th time I lost my pen this week. I kept finding it in unusual places like between soap bars, in hidden cabinets, or under stacks of paper, and this time I was beginning to think someone took it on purpose. So I yelled. It was my favorite pen and it was silver and had sparkly pink glitters on it. I would never forgive the person who stole my pen. “Hmm,” I thought. I knew my parents wouldn’t hide my pen on purpose so my only other suspect was. . . .
Sophia! My twelve year old sister would probably want that pen. She loved that pen and was mad that she didn’t get one when I did. I didn’t confront her, though. While my mom and dad were trying to calm me down, I was barely paying attention. It was no use. I was mad enough and now it was time for action.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sophia slinking down the hall to her bedroom. I addressed my parents, and said, “I’ll be fine now, you can go downstairs.” They seemed relieved and a little surprised when I said that. They didn’t know I was out for revenge and proof.
I’m usually well prepared. Except for the time I took a bath with a bath bomb and Sophia splashed me in the face with water. Also when she poured freezing cold water on my face while I was taking that bath. Anyway, I was saying I’m usually well prepared, which means I have a plan. My plan was to tell Sophia that our parents needed her downstairs for something and sneak into her room to search for my pen.
So I put my plan into action. I walked casually up to her room, knocked and said, “Sophia? Mom needs you downstairs.” “ok,” Sophia said. She left her room and walked down the hall and downstairs. Perfect. That would buy me some time. I walked into her room and searched. Nothing. Suddenly I heard Sophia coming down the hall. I darted out of her room when she wasn’t looking.
I was fuming because I couldn’t find my pen. I went outside to calm myself down. I sat on the porch and propped my arms on my legs. Suddenly, I caught sight of it. Silver and pink, it looked like a pond with pink glitter in it washed over with the moonlight. It was my pen! I bent down and picked it up. I smiled secretly to myself. As I walked into my house I realized how many times I’d taken my parents for granted and when I was mad and thrown them aside. I regret doing that. I also shouldn’t let my anger get the best of me.
I also realized that my parents could have yelled at me too, but they didn’t. My parents are a big part of my life so I shouldn’t annoy them, much less yell at them. I never forgot that night and it still serves as a reminder when I am frustrated.
