I didn't write this story, my teacher showed it to us in English class for an example of good writing. I have no idea who wrote this.
The hands on the clock were frozen, 11:35 pm. I'd been standing in line for three hours with Ryan, my sixteen year old brother.
Mom paid him to take me to Barnes and Noble to get the last book in the Harry Potter series, can you believe it?
He didn't want tooo come because he was afraid of what all his friends would say, but twenty bucks speaks louder so here we are.
And besides, he'd do anything to drive now that he has his licence, even to hang out with me.
The books were stacked and ready for we greedy readers but no one, but no one was allowed to touch the books until the stroke of midnight. 25 minutes to go. I didn't think I could make it.
My feet hurt so bad. Standing in line like that with hundreds of other wizards, witches and muggles was exhausting. There were little kids running around`everywhere.
Why? They didn't care about Harry Potter like I did. I could tell. They were just here for something to do. It was really annoying.
To pass the time, I'd looked through all the books in the fantasy section. There were some I liked, like Dragonslayer, but none of them made my heart race like Harry Potter.
It was so exciting- would Harry die? Would Dumbledore come back from the dead? Would Voldemort show himself?
I couldn't wait another minute, as soon as I got my hands on the book, I was not going to stop reading until I reached the last page.
I checked and rechecked my wristband. We were in gold group, the third to get books.
All evening I'd been eyeing the stacks, trying to estimate how many books were there and how many people would get theirs before us. Damn I should have paid more attention in math class.
But it looked like I'd get mine. I heaved a huge sigh of relief, however, when a store employee rolled out another palate of books. Now I'm sure I will get my own copy TONIGHT.
The clock creeped closer to midnight and the crowd got more and more restless. All the kids dressed like Harry looked pretty tired.
There were even some adults with tattoos and make up on their faces to get them in the spirit. I thought they looked dumb, but at least they were there.
Finally. Midnight. The first group raced to get their books. I wished I had a blue wristband. I wished my mom had let me come earlier, but I had to be patient.
Then, the green group. The book stacks were dwindling. There must have been two hundred people in line a head f me. I kept eyeing the stacks and the line. Surely I'd get mine soon.
Finallly the gold group was called and I pushed my way up to the front and grabbed a book.
My brother; who had wandered off for most of the evening, paid for it and pushed me towards the door.
"Come on, Matt. Let's go. Hurry up". You didn't have to tell me twice. I could hardly wait to crack the cover.
I started reading. "The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well." All was well, indeed.
My wait was over. But just then, my brother reached over and grabbed the book out of my hands.
"You can wait. I'm going to read it first," he said with a sneer.
"Like hell." I told him, and grabbed it back. Then my muggle brother drove me home.