Before submitting your story, make sure you story has • an exposition, rising action, complicating incident, climax, and a resolution. • a setting, plot, and theme. • sensory details and rich description to capture the reader's attention and develop a mood. • a narrator with a consistent point of view. • dialogue to move the plot and show the characters’ ideas and feelings. • consistent verb tense. • appropriately selected and implemented active and/or passive voice • correct capitalization, punctuation, and spelling. refer to the rubric to make sure you turn in your best work. dont tell me a full story just a couple ideas for a story

Jason had first seen Mia at the sandlot playground close to their homes. They were both 10-year-olds who still perceived the opposite sex as the enemy. She grouped up with a bunch of squeaky girls who made faces and laughed at the boys while they played ball on the street. The girls had taken over the swings as their domain, reigning undefeated, proudly. At one point, the soccerball ran toward them. Jason was the one to be sacrificed since he was closer to where they were. He ran to the ball, picked it up with the tips of his fingers and glanced at the girls. They were staring at him as if he were some nasty intruder who deserved the guillotine.

They all attended the same school; maybe a couple of boys and girls had to move to a different neighborhood over the years. But, essentially, they all remained. Of course, with time, they dynamics changed. Around the age of 13, boys and girls were no longer adversaries, but a strange and exotic foreign land to be discovered. Laughter transformed into giggles. The same boys who once shouted, “You can’t play with us, you’re a girl!” were now struggling to invite those long-haired nymphs out - an ice cream, or the movies, if their mothers were more lenient and foolish enough.

Mia was the one left behind, though. She didn’t grow as tall, as curvy, as mischievous as the others. So, they left her behind. Mia was no longer invited to come over. Why have her attend slumber parties when she couldn’t talk about boys? She had never kissed anyone on the lips, the poor thing. Had never had a boy trying to explode her phone with texts filled with jokes and compliments. She would stay home, watching her shows, reading her books, dreaming of fictional boys, wondering why the real-life, flesh-and-bone ones didn’t fancy her. The quirky girls on movies always got the guy in the end. Her end didn’t seem to be in sight yet.

Jason paid attention, though he pretended not to. He couldn’t let the guys know he liked Mia. She wasn’t attractive enough for him to be allowed to say something. So, he kept the childish infatuation he believed to be love deep within him. When the school trip came, each one of the boys sat next to their favorite girl on the bus, grabbing every chance to touch their hands, desperately trying to get them sufficiently flattered to grant them a kiss later. Jason had to sit beside Mia. Or at least that is how the others saw it. As if poor Jason had had no choice, since no other seats were available. Someone patted him on the back, wished him good luck. Jason offered a faint smile back while bursting with joy on the inside. Still, he was too popular, too handsome, too athletic to let his feelings show. Sitting down next to Mia was all he did. He saw his chance come and go, wishing she were just a little more like the other girls, just a little more ordinary, so that he could like her in public.

Two years later, Mia showed up holding Steve’s hand. Jason’s smile was wiped out off his face for a split second. It came back though, as faint as it had been on that bus. Mia hadn’t changed much. She was taller, perhaps, but still annoyingly different. And Steve… Steve was the prince of the boys, the kind of guy who is good at everything without threatening the others’ confidence. Steve never tried to be the king, never wished to rule it all by being the best, the most athletic, the smartest. He had that natural wisdom that prevented ambition from becoming a barrier instead of a weapon. Jason always thought Steve would end up with one of the cooler girls, but not Mia. He had been hoping she would wise up and transform into a girl he, Jason, would be allowed to publicly love.

Jason approached Steve just as Mia disappeared somewhere for a couple of minutes.

“So”, he was able to say. “You and Mia?”

“Yeah!” exclaimed Steve, beaming.

“How did that happen?” he softly gasped at the end.

“She’s a great girl, you know? Cute, sweet, smart… I’m lucky.” Jason explained humbly, as if Mia’s noticing him had been a divine deed. She returned from the restroom, and they resumed their lives.

As they walked into the classroom, Jason felt an envious thorn sting his heart. He saw Mia smile at Steve, a smile Jason had never thought she had to offer. He also saw some of the boys looking at Steve as if he were an outcast, some type of Robin Hood opposing their kingdom’s status quo. And, much to Jason’s astonishment and jealousy, he realized Steve couldn’t care less. He carried on being himself, unafraid, unapologetic. He never lost his rank, never quit being a prince. He smiled, said his hi’s, played ball, got good grades, kept living his life as he had always done. The other boys couldn’t help but accept it, accept him. If they could not destroy his confidence, they might as well learn to admire it. Jason, on the other hand, was condemned to the dungeons of his cowardice, feeling that strange pain one feels when they realize someone had the guts to achieve what they believed to be impossible.

source text: from the sketch here given it will be seen, that our good grandmothers differed considerably in their ideas of a fine figure, from their scantily dressed descendants of the present day. a fine lady, in those times, waddled under more clothes even on a fair summer's day, than would have clad the whole bevy of a modern ball room. nor were they the less admired by the gentlemen in consequence thereof. on the contrary, the greatness of a lover's passion seemed to increase in proportion to the magnitude of its object—and a voluminous damsel, arrayed in a dozen of petticoats, was declared by a low-dutch sonnetteer of the province, to be radiant as a sunflower, and luxuriant as a full blown cabbage. certain it is, that in those days, the heart of a lover could not contain more than one lady at a time; whereas the heart of a modern gallant has often room enough to accommodate half a dozen - - the reason of which i conclude to be, either that the hearts of the gentlemen have grown larger, or the persons of the ladies smaller — this however is a question for physiologists to determine. add punctuation to the following excerpt. writing under the name of diedrich knickerbocker washington irving aimed his potent satire at as diverse topics as political rivals such as thomas jefferson to the very ideal of looking back on the past affectionately: a fine lady, in those times, waddled under more clothes even on a fair summer's day, than would have clad the whole bevy of a modern ball room. a voluminous damsel, arrayed in a dozen of petticoats, was declared by a low-dutch sonnetteer of the province, to be radiant as a sunflower, and luxuriant as a full blown cabbage. in those days, the heart of a lover could not contain more than one lady at a time; whereas the heart of a modern gallant has often room enough to accommodate half a dozen

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