you to see guide struck by lightning the carson phillips journal chris colfer as you such Struck By Lightning is the journal of Carson Phillips, a high school senior who online Struck By Lightning: The Carson Phillips Journal pdf (ePUB) book. 1/6. Get Instant Access to PDF File: D0wnl0ad Read. Online Free Now eBook Struck By Lightning. The Carson Phillips Journal By Chris Colfer. Struck By Lightning The Carson Phillips Journal Chris Colfer. Struck By You will certainly likewise find this electronic book in style ppt, pdf, txt, kindle, zip, word.
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Struck By Lightning: The Carson Phillips Journal follows the story of outcast high school senior Carson Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd. We provide guide qualified Struck By Lightning The Carson Phillips Journal By Chris Colfer developed by kindle, pdf, zip, ppt, rar, word, and txt. lightning if. Struck By Lightning is the journal of Carson Phillips, a high school senior who Lightning The Carson Phillips Journal Full Online Do you really need this pdf of.
Shelves: young-adult , read-in , books-i-own , lgbt-characters , contemporary , realistic-fiction , arc-or-review , movies-or-tv Okay, I'll openly admit it, I was very wary of reading this book, simply because it was written by someone from Glee and I really don't like Glee. However, I wanted a quick read so I picked this one up and gave it a go. I'll be honest and say that I'm glad I gave this book a chance - though it was pretty much what I expected, I wasn't disappointed. Struck By Lightning is the journal of Carson Phillips, a high school senior who is determined to get into Northwestern and become a top editor. Carson Okay, I'll openly admit it, I was very wary of reading this book, simply because it was written by someone from Glee and I really don't like Glee. Carson is also a bit of an outcast at his school, meaning it's difficult for him to get any support in writing a literary magazine which is essential for his university application.
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You look fine, Malerie, I said. I didnt spend two hours creating an authentic notepad for her to get cold feet now two pieces of cardboard and a Slinky, if youre looking for Halloween ideas.
We took a step back and admired our float once the final touch had been added. Sure, we didnt have the budget for a rolling Roman Colosseum like the cheerleaders had, or the means to rent a Corvette like the yearbook douches did, but we were proud of ourselves nonetheless. I had tried selling ad space to local businesses but didnt have any takers. Claire Mathews strode up to our float wearing. She was nominated for homecoming queen and was expected to winafter all, she was in charge of counting the votes.
You look like shit, I said. An insult coming from a life-sized school supply didnt faze her much.
Why couldnt I have worn something like that? Malerie asked me. I dont know what youre wearing, but I have some bad news, Claire said. The truck pulling the cheerleaders float, its engine just broke down, so were taking yours. She smiled, nodded, and tried walking away. Excuse me?! I said, feeling actual steam emitting from my ears.
Im sorry, Claire said, looking back at me, but homecoming is nothing without the cheerleading float. Go take the athletes truck away, I demanded. They pride themselves on running around like mules anyway! Im sorry, my decision is final, Claire said with a smile so fake my left eye started to twitch. She strutted off like she was on a runway. My insides started boiling.
I felt like I was being.
She couldnt do this to methis was my last shot at making the literary magazine. I started pacing, trying to come up with my next move. Too bad, Malerie said. At least we had fun making it. No, I said, and stopped dead in my tracks. Theyre gonna see this float if it kills me.
I stormed off toward the other floats. I found a rope the cheerleaders had tossed aside.
Suddenly, a lightbulb appeared over my head like a bad motel vacancy sign. I had an idea! I bet you thought I went on a strangling rampage after that. That was my first idea too, but no, I pursued the second idea instead.
I went back and tied the rope to the front of our float. It could work. It just might work, I thought to myself. From that moment on, my body was running on pure adrenaline. I felt like the Hulk. The Mark Ruffalo Hulk, not those other guys.
Night fellthe game startedfireworks burst in the sky which Im assuming meant we were winning or had entered some kind of war the band warmed. There are moments in life when you think, Oh my God, is this really happening? Am I actually doing this? Is this how Im going to be remembered for the rest of my life?
This was one of those moments, and unfortunately for me, it was very real, I actually did it, and itll probably be how Im remembered for the rest of my life.
Picture me, dressed as a fucking pencil, pulling the Writers Club float across the football field by myself. Imagine Malerie, dressed as a giant notepad, operating the giant notebook on top of our float and waving to the crowd. Visualize the crowd roaring uncontrollably at the cheerleaders passing by but then going dead silent once they noticed us.
It was so quiet all you could hear were my grunts and swearing while I was pulling the float.
Writers Club! Malerie enthusiastically shouted and continued waving. A quiet rumble of snickering started, which grew into an eruption of giggling, which then evolved into an explosion of laughter. Everyonethe parents, the. I screamed at them, and finished pulling the float off the field.
I was sweating profusely, my face was as red as Mars, my hands were bleeding from the rope, and my body had become so stiff I could barely walk. I ripped off my pencil costume, got in my car, and bolted out of the student parking lot. I didnt even use my blinker. I must have driven a hundred miles an hour all the way home. That sounds really fast, but the speedometer is broken, so I was really only doing like sixty or seventy.
I got home, went into my bedroom, and collapsed on my bed.
The snide remarks from my peers, the discouraging comments from everyone else, and my own thoughts of doubt were on constant replay in my mind.
Im sorry, but homecoming is nothing without the cheerleading float! No one reads the Chronicle anyway.
The art classes use it to papier-mch things. I thought of the student council.
I thought of the Chronicle. I thought of Ms. Sharpton and Mom. I thought of Grandma and Malerie. Youre young and nave. All those dreamsstill seem reachable.
The i is an imaginary number. There was no way I could make the literary magazine work now.