Plastic

Word count: 1705

This story doesn’t match the prompt exactly, but it’s similar.

November 4, 2003

I clung onto my mom’s hands as she passed by aisle 12. The aisle was filled with all kinds of delicious treats any little girl would want. I tugged my mom’s arms and pointed to what I believed was a scrumptious bag of cookies. I was standing there, hoping I would hear “yes”. “Hannah,” my mom started. I listened even more. My mom twirled her orange hair around and around her finger. “Please say yes!” I jumped up and down. My mom smiled at me. “Hannah, when was the last time you ate sugary stuff?” I paused to think. I stood there for a really long time, thinking and thinking. “Never,” I lied. That’s what I decided to say after my long ponder. Never. “Oh, Hannah!” She smiled. I clapped my hands and did a little victory dance as she reached for the plastic bag filled with cookies wrapped in their own plastic bags. But as soon as she placed the cookie bag into the shopping cart, Mom immediately put it back on the shelf. That’s when my victory dance stopped. “Why, Mommy?” I was about to cry at her. “There’s too much plastic.”

I wailed and howled in the car, all the way home. I stomped upstairs, tears flowing down my cheeks, and sat on my parent’s bed. My older brother, Ryan, actually thought that this was funny and took a picture of me. But that made me even more angry. I tried to chase him with my dad’s belt, but he was way too fast.

May 30, 2005

“There’s too much plastic!” My friend, Kenley said. “Just look around! There’s a styrofoam cup!” She pointed to the side of the road. I knew that styrofoam cup used to belong to Ryan. “And there!” I was sure Kenley was right now. “Where do all these plastic come from, anyway?” I wanted to know. I wanted to save the world with her now. Kenley knew everything about plastic. “Oh, they come from lazy people who just throw them on the ground, or little kids who don’t know where to put them. To be honest, sometimes I’m too lazy and just throw them across the road.” I was too afraid to admit that I threw plastic just because I thought it was fun. “But we still gotta do something!” I kicked the styrofoam cup. Kenley shook her tiny head at me. “No, Hannah. You don’t understand!” Kenley sure seems to be treating me like a dog. Her blonde ponytails swung back and forth as she walked to the cup, bent over, and picked it up. “That’s how we do it!” She yelled across the street.

We spent the next hour training myself into being a better dog. That’s what Kenley actually said to me. A better dog. I re-learned how to not throw plastic on the ground and not to kick plastic. I did unnecessary “Trash Training Exercises”, where you had to pick up all kinds of plastic with Kenley watching every move I do. After I finished, I got my useless diploma in Trash Training.

January 19, 2008

“There’s way too many plastic in the sea that can harm many marine animals.” Our teacher said quietly as her presentation showed some pictures with mother lodes of trash. Kenley, who was sitting beside me, whispered something I couldn’t hear. Our teacher was sniffing and sobbing as she showed the pictures. Most of the class wasn’t listening to her. Most of the class has some kind of electronic. It might be a flip-phone, it might be a brand-new touchscreen. Whatever it is, they are sure not listening. But Kenley and I did, and we knew something had to be done.

Kenley and I started picking up trash. On the first few days, Kenley made SURE no street in our little town had some kind of trash on it. But after that, Kenley got less and less serious.

July 21, 2009

Each day, I would pick up some trash I found laying on the ground. Sometimes Kenley would help me, but most of the time, she would be busy working on something. Sometimes, I would see her through her window, talking on a phone. One of those brand-new phones almost every kid had on their birthday wishlist, including Ryan. Sometimes, at school, Kenley would be hanging out with some other kids who had those touchscreens.

That was okay though because I cleaned up more trash without her, anyway. I just

knew that I was helping the world, bit by bit.

“There must be some other group of people picking up trash like you do,” told my mother, every time I got discouraged.

August 2, 2009

Kenley spends less and less time with me these days and more and more times with her other friends. I’m actually better off without her, but sometimes I miss her. I also noticed that Kenley is starting to not care about the plastic lying around here anymore. I talked with my mom about it. “Today, almost every kid is at least addicted to one type of electronic.” Mom grumbled. “But at least you’re not one of them!” “Electronics sound terrible!” “Yes, they are horrible! Computers were created for work, but instead, little kids are addicted to the paint programs almost every computer has. Phones were meant for long-distance calls, but now every teenager has one to call their friends a few metres away from them!!!” I strongly agreed with

Mom.

She spent the rest of the night trying to find a good friend for me. I just hope I get a new one before 6th grade starts.

September 8, 2009

I didn’t get a new friend, after the long hours Mom put into finding one.

I ignored Kenley. She ignored me back pretty well. Sometimes we talked about our shared pasts, but that’s just about it. I never stopped picking up trash. Neighbourhood kids would sometimes see me helping the planet and sometimes help me. But I never needed their help. I could do it on my own. I didn’t like company very much.

I spent most of these days being alone. Wake up, go to school, pick up trash, get home, and then do the same thing the next day. My routine.

July 19, 2010

We were moving. “Into the car, everybody!” My older brother, Ryan, is going to start grade 11 the next school year. I just finished grade 6, something my mom really congratulated me on. As I said my last goodbyes to Kenley and promised to keep in

touch, I sighed as she walked away. I’m really going to miss her.

After a few minutes, the car started moving. That was the last time I saw our old house. The neighbourhood. My childhood. The car headed west, toward New York, where we were going to live. Ryan looked outside. “Dad, how’s this new school I’m going to?” He asked. My dad continued driving. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “Ryan, it’s going to be fine. Don’t you worry, my little Ryan!”

There were some other questions along the way, but we were a quiet family, and we stayed quiet. Rain was the loudest noise here.

July 20, 2010

Like in the old neighbourhood, I picked up trash. There was a lot more garbage in the streets of New York. The air was full of smoke. Smokers, everywhere. Trash, everywhere. I like the suburbs better, but my dad found a pretty good job here, and that’s why we moved. I’m pretty sure the rest of my family likes our old house better too, because right now, we live on the 46th floor of some apartment.

I also noticed that it rains more often here. The rain gently made me fall asleep. Rain was my alarm clock in the mornings.

August 4, 2010

That day, I went out to pick up trash. Mother lodes of trash, just like in that teacher’s slideshow. In New York City, everything’s unexpected. At least for me. That day, I found a group of tiny-looking 6th graders, collecting trash, just like me. I stopped and followed them, my enormous bag of trash trailing behind me. They went from street to street to street, picking up any sort of trash we could find. I helped them with the ones they missed. Fortunately, there weren’t very many. The leader, a slightly overweight girl taller than the rest of them, led the way. Her short brown hair flew everywhere. “My goodness, it’s a strong one!” She turns around and sees me. “Who are you!?” I froze as all the others turned around. I counted them. “One, two, three, four. Four people!” I thought. “ANSWER ME!!!” she shouted this time. A boy with black hair and dark skin, carrying a bag of trash smaller than mine, snickered. “I-I’m Hannah.” The girl’s face softened. Her hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight. It stopped being windy, and everything, everywhere was quiet. At least for me. “My name is Paisley, and that’s the twins, Violet and Autumn.” Paisley pointed to the two short girls standing beside each other. They both waved at the same time, one of them giggling. “And last but not least, there’s Darrell.” She pointed to the one that snickered earlier. Darrell smiled at me, showing a few teeth. “Together, we help the world!”

The End

Beyond August 4

The kind group filled with a few sixth-graders and one seventh-grader had helped the world, bit by bit. Paisley had done a great job leading them all, the twins had done a great job talking to each other, Darrell had done a great job snickering, and Hannah had done a great job picking up trash. Together, the 5 kids had made their world a better place for other fictional characters, and I hope you would do something to help our world become a better place for us to live. Because if we leave the world as it is, and keep throwing trash onto the road for some car to smush it, I don’t think the

next few generations would enjoy this place.