The First Few Chapters of 26 Ways to Fail- Jasmine Crespo( Please Comment!)

26 Ways to Fail
By Jasmine Crespo
A Talentless Sack-
It was an early Monday morning, the sky was clear and the grass freshly mowed, the only thing wrong with this picture is that I was there. My name is Sam Bradley; I’m an eighth grader that has never found my talent. So far, the closest thing I have to one is messing everything up. That faithful morning I almost set fire to my house. It was a complete and total accident but that’s not the way my bratty sister Shelby sees it.
I almost set fire to my house by microwaving leftovers in tinfoil. It was an honest mistake; I was half-awake and craving the hot deliciousness of a day old steak. I wish I had it now, but the firemen are still examining its remains, because of this, I’ve decided that I won’t be a “talentless sack” anymore. I’ve created a list of talents and hobbies, A-Z. This shouldn’t be too hard... I think.
But before I show you my personal journal, you need some background information on my family and friends, and also me for that matter. So here you go.

Sam Bradley-
Okay, this might be tough for me to describe myself but here you go.
Sam Bradley is thirteen, almost fourteen, extremely tall for his age, and has burnt brown hair that is usually spiked. Sam is a mostly B and C+ student, but has the occasional A. For his talents he has none. Sam is most famous for messing situations up and his emerald green eyes.
Relationship status: Sam has never been kissed or so much as hugged by the opposite gender unless you count Aunt Beatrice kissing you on your thirteenth birthday. (That day has been repressed)
Best friends in the world are Jesse Simmons, Lilly Matthews and Kevin Hall. They are the people who will help me with my list.

Shelby Bradley-
Shelby is eleven, but you could swear she was five. She always wears her perky blonde hair in pigtails so high on her head; you’d think she’d receive communications from space on them. Shelby is also perfect, only to the untrained eye, she is pure evil from her dark blue eyes to those skis she calls feet. She always gets straight A’s, is always on the honor role, and can play the piano, violin, cello, bass, viola, flute, guitar, drums, and countless other instruments. You’d see why she’d call me a talentless sack.
Her equally annoying best friends are Kenzie Richards and Emily Black. Both are mindless little girls that copy everything Shelby does, not as in her talents but as in torturing little children who aren’t as “talented“, “pretty” or as “cool” as her.

Zach Bradley-
Zach is my cool older brother that drives a motorcycle. His hair is black and shaggy, luckily he’s nineteen and out of the house. He is the main singer for a punk rock band called “Borne Naked”. I think it’s cool and rebellious but my sister thinks it’s insulting. That gives me even more of a reason to like it. See, everybody in my family has a talent, except for me. I think I’m adopted; my father to whom I am an aesthetic clone shot down that theory! Amazingly enough, I’m taller than Zach is too. My brother has a girlfriend; her name is Ashley something. I think they’ve been dating for a month now. She’s blonde, blue eyed and very stupid. Don’t get me wrong, I like her it’s just that I think a stool is smarter than she is.

Mom- (A.K.A. Brianne Bradley)
Mom is well, Mom. She is really shorter then me, (Well who isn’t?) has ash brown hair that is always in that “mom” ponytail. You know the one right? Well anyways, she believes that I have a “special talent” somewhere inside of me. I really hope she’s right or my list will be a big waste of time. Her talents are cooking and advice. Her motto, “Live and Learn”. I’ll never understand that until I’m fifty. She’s a psychologist extraordinaire, minus the crazies that would follow her around like a mother duck. Her best friends are other psychologists like her, Dr. Jane Winters and Dr. Kim Russo.

Dad-(A.K.A. Peter S. Bradley)
Dad is just like me. He’s gawky and tall. One major difference is that he has a talent. He’s a reporter for channel 13’s news. My father tells it like it is and is famous for it. He has met thousand of famous people in his career. He also tells cheesy jokes. His favorite one is how he got the middle name S. He claims an alligator ate his birth certificate and his parents couldn’t remember anything about his middle name except for it started with an s. So my father is Peter S. Bradley, s is for short. Ha, ha, very funny dad.
What annoys me the most is that I’m his exact talentless clone. He says that I might go into the family business; I extremely doubt that because I freeze in front of a crowd of more than my dog Biscuit.

Jesse Simmons-Jesse has been my best friend since kindergarten. We’ve been through everything together. Jesse is the kind of boy who is a “stud”. All the girls in school follow him around like lost sheep. Jesse is about a foot shorter than I am but can amazingly dunk a shot in basketball. Jesse is good in about every sport he tries. Does everyone have a talent but me? Moving on, Jesse is my best bud and he’ll support any of my crazy ideas, such as the list.

Lilly Matthews -
Lilly has been my friend since in third grade; when I tripped and fell down a whole flight of stairs and had to be air lifted to the hospital. She helped me up when no other people were around. She stuck with me, even though I was crying and bleeding. Even though all I had was a broken wrist. Lilly is a doctor, at least she would be except for the fact she is still thirteen. Her story is that I inspired her to be one.
She has auburn hair that is always put in a bun. I myself have only seen it down once or twice. She has a face speckled with freckles that highlight her honey brown eyes. She’s kind and sweet but has a temper at times. I’m sure these traits will help me trough my list, especially if things go wrong and I get hurt.

Kevin Hall-
Kevin is my friend that is my friend by accident. He’s a cool skater boy that I saved last fall when he was skateboarding and almost ran into the lake. He was saved from the freezing cold water by accidentally crashing into me and forcing me into the water. It was only three feet deep but I embarrassed myself by being a baby and almost drowning. He helped me up and we’ve been friends ever since. He’s my more worldly advice guy. He tells me that life is like skateboarding, if you fall, just get back up and ride. I know he doesn’t do drugs, but it would make a whole lot more sense if he were. He is properly going to be the one to help me do crazy things on my list.

That’s all the people I think I would need to help me do my list. If I eventually fail, then I’m indeed a “talentless sack”. A-Z is the game and I’m hoping to win. Now I’m just blathering on to fill valuable journal space. So here are my tasks.
A- Archery
B-Bowling
C-Cooking
D-Diving
E-Exploring
F-Football
G-Gymnastics
H-Hunting
I-Inventing
J-Jump Roping
K-Karate
L-Lacrosse
M-Macrophysics
N-Negotiating
O-Observation
P-Photography
Q-Quilting
R-Racket Ball
S-Soccer
T-Tennis
U-Understanding People
V-Volunteering for the community
W-Wrestling
X-Xylophone Playing
Y- Youth Counseling
Z- Zoology
Now I know there are more things that I could write down but let’s save that for another ten or so years. I’m confident that my talent is on this list, I just have to go and find it.
A is for “Archery”-
Today is the start of my talent journal, for that reason, I’m going to date my entries.
June 5,
Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I’m going to try archery. It shouldn’t be too hard.
I’m writing this now in my friend Jesse’s dad’s truck because Jesse convinced him to take us to archery classes. Jesse is psyched but I’m personally terrified. I’ve never tried anything like this in my life. There’s a first time for everything, right?
This could be my hidden talent, my one shining moment, but just in case; here is my will. I’d like to thank my mom for giving birth to me, and she can have everything except for this journal I want her to burn it. I want to tell Shelby I will still hate/love her even when I’m dead, I will also haunt her and cut off her pigtails in her sleep. Tell Zach that “Borne Naked” can play at my funeral but not that song about the frog and the scorpion, I‘d like to at least have some dignity. I’d like Lilly, Jesse, and Kevin at my funeral. I think that is it. I hope before I die I at least find my talent. Even for a nanosecond.
As that was not depressing, just cautionary, I’d like to move on. It is almost time for me to put this notebook down and try the first thing on my list.
-- (Later)

Okay, Way #1 to fail
#1- Don’t listen to your instructor, also if you can, somehow make the arrow ricochet off the target and hit the instructors toupe. If you didn’t get in enough trouble, try to help him and manage to set him on fire.
Oh, yes this is all true. Every last word. I was busy staring at a pretty girl that was sitting in front of me when the instructor was giving directions. Here is what I was hearing/thinking, “Make sure not to (Blah, Blah, Her hair is so silky, she smells good too, I wonder if she would go out with me. I wonder what her name is. She looks like an Amber. I wish she would turn around and look at me. I love you Amber, love you...) Blah, blah, blah...Okay! Got it? Follow these simple rules and no one will get hurt.”
You would think a sane person would ask their friend for the directions, right? Wrong, because of my severe stupidity I just winged it instead of asking Jesse. Sometimes I don’t think and that is why this happened; I aimed the bow and arrow, a pretty easy task right? Again, wrong. This is why it’s difficult being a teenager. Hormones control you. I would have made my target if not for the beautiful “Amber”. She just had to stroll on by with her beautiful dirty blonde hair. (Just for a fact, “dirty” blonde hair is not in fact dirty. Her hair was most likely cleaner than mine was.) As I was staring at her unstalkerishly, my hands seemed to have a mind of their own. I gently let go of the arrow. (Wouldn’t that be nice?) In reality, I nearly flung the bow as I attempted to show off to the lovely lady. The arrow seemed to go straight, but as the story of my life goes, looks can be deceiving. The arrow seeming to follow my history of bad luck was going straight but, as it got closer to the target, it slowed, returned to its original speed and then sped up. The arrow hit the target, for about a second; it then bounced off the target and ricocheted off the lamppost and eventually landing into the soft, precarious structure that was the instructor’s hairpiece. I tried helping the poor fellow, only to have helped hurt him. Even though the instructor was around kids, he still smoked. I accidentally knocked the lit cigarette from the edge where he had set it and onto his pant leg. His pants burst into flames. It would have been a funny sight if anyone but me had created it.
We eventually extinguished the fire. But that was not the only fire that started. The instructors face then turned a fiery red. The infuriated instructor then called security. I looked for Jesse, but he was nowhere to be seen. He’s the smart one. The instructor then pointed out me from the group of kids that seemed not to notice the giant that stood amidst in their circle. After about five minutes, which seemed to drag on forever, the yelling finally stopped. It was mostly because the security guards could not take the incessant hollering of the instructor. The dialogues of such are words I’m not even allowed to think of much less say.
I did make some friends with the security guards though. One is Joe and the other is Harold. They are pretty good guys. They congratulated me on getting the arrow to land in old “Arrow-head’s” wig. They said he deserved it and asked if I didn’t aim for it. I told them no and we moved on.
They took my picture to put on the “Banned for Life” wall. That’s right, banned for life. Hello, how are you? Me? I’m banned for life from this facility.
It’s not even a “facility”. It’s just a backyard that has a fancy cover on one end.
I did eventually find Jesse. He ran for the hills as soon as he saw the infuriated look on the instructors face. “I thought fat people were jolly.” were his words to my explanation. Oh well, one down twenty- five to go.
On another note, it seems that Jesse did wonderfully at arching and was put at top of the class. I know he wants to brag but he knows it will make me feel bad. I told him it’s all old news and that he should be proud of himself. Only, I told him to shut it if it was about girls. I don’t even get it! He’s not even that handsome! Girls just follow him like a magnet. That is how he achieved his big head. Jesse also got that pretty girl’s number; and he told me that her name was indeed Amber. Maybe my talent is naming people! Let’s see, anyone who would ever read this is probably named reader! I’m good right?
Anyway, on the subject of me, (This is my journal right?) I’m getting more organized. It’s really an improvement. Well, it couldn’t get any worse. For example, here is a chart of my success/failure so far. (It’s all sparkly and pretty.) For those whom have no sarcastic detectors, I’m being sarcastic. Here is my impending doom if I do not check success in at least one of these columns.
Talent Date Success Failure
A- Archery June 5 N/A x


B is for “Bowling”
June 17
Although it has taken me a while to heal from arching,( I meant figuratively not literally.) I’m confident that I can prevail at this next item on the list. Lilly is going bowling with me. It makes sense I guess; I mean she’s a doctor and it’s bowling, something is bound to go wrong.
We’re going to the old broken-down bowling alley that is near our school. It’s a cool hangout for all the “uncool” kids. This basically, describes were I am on the food chain. Lilly is very excited to go, especially if I get hurt. She currently carrying a first aid kit that could heal an army of accident-prone people like myself.
This is what she said, (Just so you know, I’m going to switch to story mode now.)
“Sam, I know you’re going to get hurt. Why don’t you try a sport that doesn’t involve swinging heavy balls in the air?”
“I won’t get hurt Lilly! I’m going to be super careful this time. I’m going to listen to every single precaution you give me.” Then Lilly said,
“If you will listen to every precaution I give you then why aren’t you wearing steel toed bowling shoes?”
“Lilly, you know they don’t sell those!”
“Oh well, I guess you can’t bowl then. What are you thinking! You of all people shouldn’t be bowling! Why do you think I have a medical kit the size of a small apartment? Sam... Let’s just drop it okay. I’ll go get our shoes because you’ll scare the girl at the counter again. Okay?”
“Sure; I’m going to find a ball. Do you want me to get you yours?”
“No thanks, I prefer for you to live today; even one bowling ball is enough for you.” Said Lilly quietly.
After that we walked out in silence, well at least until we had to play again. The game went horribly so here’s way to fail number two.
Way to fail #2- Turns out, bumpers can hurt you as much as they can help you. Throw the ball across ten and a half lanes and spill soda all over the floor. Get bandaged up by Lilly, and break a bone or two.
Again all the bad luck in the world seems to have fallen on me. I simply picked up a ball from the rack, to have them all fall down. I think gravity hates me. After having a few moments of complete stupidity, I left the balls for someone else to clean.
I let Lilly be the first to bowl. She seemed not even to try to aim and yet, she got a strike.
“Show off!” I yelled at her jokingly.
“Afraid to be beat by a girl?” She asked .
“I’m more afraid of the ball beating me than you Lilly.” I replied
For that comment I got smacked on the arm, but it didn’t hurt that bad. I went up to the lane carefully, examining the ball as I went. I tried rolling the ball granny-style at first. It went straight into the gutter. After that, I asked for the bumpers. The lady smirked at me. Well what would you do if you saw a fourteen year old boy who was extremely tall come and ask for bumpers. I was embarrassed, but I have to take baby steps in order to find my talent. Do you think Michel Jordan just picked up the ball and was an instant star? Okay, bad example.
Even though bumpers are designed to help your game, for some reason, it made mine worse. The evil lady at the control stand liked messing with our lane. I would stand up for my turn and they would come up, as I rolled the ball she put them down. Just like a magnet to a piece of metal, down went my ball into the vile gutter.
I finally got tired of this and called her out on it. She denied everything of coarse. I went back and complained to Lilly. She told me to forget about it and play. If only it were that simple. It was then when I realized that I could beat the evil controller lady if I threw the ball. This was the beginning of my bad idea.
I threw the ball with all my might and it bounced of the bumpers and went down ten and a half lanes, eventually landing in a deep-dish pizza.
Now the family wasn’t that upset. We moved back to our lane in silence.
Lilly’s score then was 244. Mine, 72. My score was that high because I let Lilly bowl a few times for me as I was in the bathroom. I tried one last pathetic shot. I tripped over a three-year olds soda that was mistakenly left on the lanes. I slipped and fell so hard that I broke my arm in several places. I broke my wrist in three places and my humorous in two places.
I got nursed over while Lilly was fascinated with all the ambulances. I got pumped full of painkillers and am still currently loopy. I might just give up on this if it hurts so bad.
Talent Date Success Failure
A- Archery June 5 N/A x

B- Bowling June 17 N/A x