HELP ME OUT HERE!

This is my multi-draft essay and i would really appreciate criticism about Hawthorne's style.....



Fear is something we all have to live with. It has the power to control our lives. Anxieties are all around us, manifested or obscured. We do, though have fears that are buried deep within our minds, things that we never thought we would dread, things we never thought would come. This is my story, the story about the fear that I had not known existed. The thought that never crossed my mind or even came into it was the fear of moving.
The date was May 30th 2003. The school seemed quieter than ever. I was walking down the halls, looking around at the blue chipped paint and classroom doors. The lights manifested the lack of care for the school, the dingy paint, and the dirty floors. All of this was superfluous to the joy and turmoil that escaped our school everyday. The school was built as if it was one hallway; you walked in the front door and right across the hall was the gym room, in the basement was the lunchroom, to the immediate right was the main (and only) office, and the left hall was the grade school side, and the right hall was the jr. high side. I had only been down that hall once. And that was it…was not much to our school, but it was ours. I walked down the left hallway waving timidly at anyone I saw. Then I got to my classroom. Everyone greeted me as if I was a hero. Even those who were not fond of me came to say goodbye. My teacher gave me homework over the summer, which was odd because I would never see him again. I looked around at what was left of everything I remembered about that class, about that school. All of the faces seemed to calm me because they told me that I was truly cared for. There were promises made, not in the midst of the warm air around me but in the heart. I eventually had to leave. I saw tears as I was given a farewell. I slowly closed the door, to get a last glimpse of it and I sealed my part of the promise; they would never be forgotten. This was my last day at Carroll School in Chicago, IL. I will now take you to when it all started.
I departed for school that day. Something seemed so peculiar about it though. The morning held a secret from me. I figured whatever it was, it was not so important. The day was a normal day with nothing out of the ordinary. I was the quiet one in school but everyone had my back. The intention of our teacher was to get a decent amount of work done in hurry, which is sort of ironic due to the unknown situation. We did as we did everyday. The week before my friend and I were thinking of unforeseen events that would reveal themselves to us and my thought was that of moving; I had no idea how right I was. As the day ended I was taken home. When my parents got home they said they had to tell us something. Immediately I thought we had been found out when we tried to skip chores the previous Friday. They looked at us and said it straightforward, “We’re moving,” as if it were an ordinary piece of news. I dared to challenge my father about why, but his eyes told me the answer, “We’re moving and there is nothing you can say or do about it.” My mind went racing a mile a minute against everything I had ever done and wanted to do at home and all the people I had met at school. My friends were my biggest concern. I almost forgot to ask why we were moving since I got so caught up in the moment. They claimed that they wanted to leave the area before it got dangerous. They also wanted us in better schools (I tried arguing the that we could deal with our school, but it was in vain), and they did not want our grandparents running back and forth fourteen miles everyday to watch us.
So it was settled. Our home turned into a tourist attraction, since such a surplus of strangers came to see it. It did not bother me because we had to be out of the way, so they kept us busy with something entertaining. The next day, nice as it was, seemed so grim in my mind. I told everyone I knew about our unfortunate situation. I tried to match my saddened heart with the expression on my face. My closest friends, once the news was told, ended all other thoughts in their mind so fast they did not even blink; their eyes extended out far enough in which I thought they would fall into their hands and matured wrinkles appeared on their forehead attempting to interpret what I had truly said. The silence was three seconds at the most, but it felt like five minutes because all this was present as well as the thoughts racing through my mind. There was a sense of depression hidden from my friends and happiness is what acted as a veil. Teachers simply caressed me as if I were their small child who ran and wounded his leg as he tripped and said that I would be sorely missed. Few others had the same affect as my friends. The time flew by and more and more people came and saw the house. I began to notice a sense of fear in my heart, the closer we got to moving. This emotion I had was the thought of losing my friends, my old life. I had always hoped that we would not be like those seen on TV who forgets their friends. A lot of us planned on finding the same college together to keep our friendship alive. I now know how foolish such a child’s dream was. We got an offer and it looked like that day had come. For seven days my parents were taking care of paperwork with every day a bigger frustration. Then they got a phone call that incensed my father, in which he unfurled his anger toward the receiver of the vicious blow of words and then put the phone down with a smile. He grabbed my mother and they began hopping with excitement. I asked if the house was sold and they said the exact opposite. They lost an offer; the reason was because the people who offered had been trying to mess with my parents’ time and money, something that should never be attempted. This taught me never to try to decipher the peculiar things I heard from them. After that, I became less concealed as time progressed because I did not want my last memories in Chicago to be depressing. I also did not know when that fateful day would come, much like the Day of Judgment. This added pleasure to my last days.
We got even more upsetting news two days before leaving. We were told that we had to go live with our grandparents since the house was not selling fast enough. So the dismal day, the day we had to leave, arrived. That was the day with the most sincere feeling I had ever known. Everyone I knew was saying goodbye as if I were a part of their family and my fearful thoughts that I would never see them again. That summer went by so strangely. Nearly mid-June (ironically the same time when Carroll started summer break) we had gotten the house sold, but the house we bought was not ready yet. In result my parents moved in with my grandparents as well, which was kind of humorous because they could not tell us we owned nothing like they oh so discreetly reminded us because they did not either. After one month the house was ready and although moving to a place called South Holland we were welcomed by all our neighbors as if we were a new opportunity in their lives and not just a stranger. Summer on 2003 ended quickly after that and I had gotten a phone call from McKinley about me starting school ASAP. I found McKinley immense compared to Carroll. The lighting made the inside as well as every corner of the building shine as if it was freshly unwrapped. At first sight it stood as a majestic fortress or a castle. There were vast hallways and more peers than I could imagine. Even at entrance there was a sense of welcome as a teacher came to greet me and several others with a smile that would be fit to greet a king and gave us a tour of the school. This tour took fifteen minutes as compared to Carroll only taking three. There was so much that I had never experienced before; I felt like a foreigner just entering the free country of America. As soon as things began I unintentionally established my old reputation as the silent, passive kid as I had before. Such a title stayed with me due to my actions and the second day made a close friend who was the opposite of me. He was loud, outgoing, and fearless in some respects and was not afraid to get into trouble as long as it was not the serious kind. I soon decided that I would not be as inert as I was before and I would become more outgoing. This was sensed in each of our minds and is what sparked our friendship. It just goes to show that fear can be as deceiving as a magician’s trick; it is all smoke and mirrors to keep you from seeing the real picture. The real picture I was kept from was a better life. Think deeply about what you fear and maybe you will realize that it may be for the better.