Diaryofawimpykid Books Novels & Stories

He shrugged and added, "Not that I care anyway." ~~~ Ryan was the last to enter the library. "And why exactly are we here?" Suzanne asked with her arms crossed. Ashley went to a shelf and drawed out a book. "This looks interesting," she said as she glanced at the title of the novel, 'The far away Prince.' Ryan took it from her and kept it back on the shelf. "We're not here for silly romance stories," he told her and turned to Andrew, "You wanted us to learn about something?"

He hopped on the bed and sighed in content, beaming at me. “This is your room?” I asked incredulously. It was so...mundane and boring. No pretty wrist watches, toy trucks or planes. Just books and writing kits. “Yeah,” he nodded proudly. “You like it?” I shrugged, plopping down on the edge of the bed, stalling for time. Honestly, it was a boring room. But I couldn't say that to a kid. “It's nice. Might need some work, but it's cool.” He gestured to the desk. “Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul is over there. Can you read it to me, please?”

Dear Diary, I’ve decided to keep a book recording all my days here at High Hill, should make pleasant reading in the future! Well, let’s start with the basics. I’m Gabriel; surname’s irrelevant as I’d rather not link myself to my parents. I’m 15; average height, wavy mousey brown hair, hazel brown eyes, and I’ve just arrived on my first day here. My parents sent me here because apparently public school isn’t good enough for me. But the reason they don’t know is that my parents would rather not have a son like me around them, snobbish twats. I’m just not good enough for them because I’m gay... Oh yes, did I not mention, I’m gay...and single... and full of a house with lots of boys in it. Oh b

He was the one who unleashed it within me that it is getting too late for someone to stop it from growing even more. Every time I think about how he would inflict pain to my mom, not only physical pain but emotional lashes, there's not even a chance of me to forgive him. That will be the last thing that I will do in my life. "Here..." Sheira distracted me from what I've been thinking by nudging a book in front of me. My eyes sparkled when I saw the title of the book she just gave me. "Eww, Diary of a Wimpy Kid...tell me, how old are you for real?" Sheira couldn't help but smile when she saw me hugging the book she just lended me.

his tone bound with guaranteed enthusiasm and I nodded, while he rested over putting his elbows bowing down. "Sure, maybe I'll draw you." I laughed a bit and he did too. "I like to read as well, North and south is a phenomenal book, however, I'd go for Diary of a wimpy kid anytime." he sounded excited as he said this. I laughed, "really?" I covered my chuckling face with my hands. "Sure." he laughed close by me, "You could manage without my choice of books." I folded my hands, putting them in my lap.

I flipped the page of my notebook, leaning down to grab my textbook from the door beside my chair. And that’s when the idea struck. Slowly, deliberately, I let the book slip from my fingers. It hit the floor with a soft thud. “Oh—" I bent down immediately to pick it up and the classroom suddenly felt very quiet. Very still. I didn’t rush. Instead, I took my time reaching for the book, my skirt shifting slightly as I moved. A risky move. A deliberate move. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then— Jeff cleared his throat sharply.

I tried to push past them, but one girl shoved my shoulder, making my books scatter across the floor. “Aww, don’t cry, little virgin,” another mocked. “Maybe if you weren’t such a stuck-up nerd, someone would actually want to think of fucking you at least.” Tears stung at the corner of my eyes, threatening to spill out, but I bit back the tears not wanting to show any form of weakness right in front of my bullies. I bent down to pick up my books, with my hands shaking violently. This wasn’t new to me here, and the bullying had actually been going on for months but today it hit harder than usual. I felt so small, pathetic, and completely alone in this world that trampled on the weak.

There’s no way I can heat it, and if it’s this cold in August already, what’s it gonna be like by December? With a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I go to my favourite room, the library, and start to go through the next shelf of books. In the back, hidden by a gnarly grimoire written in Spanish, I find a handwritten diary. On the cover, the witch wrote the title: * Witches and Werewolves. * Interesting.

I stuck my fingers in between the two larger books on either side and was surprised when they landed on something much smaller. I pulled it out and stared down at a child’s diary. The small lock and leather strap were still attached, but fell open when I lifted it out. Intrigued, I carried the diary down to the couch below and settled in to read. There was no name on the cover, but as I read, it became clear who this must have belonged to. Had he hid it here, himself, in the expectation that no one would ever bother to find it? As I tore through the pages, my heart broke for the little boy who hadn’t known how to do anything other than write down the horrors he was experiencing. His parents

I looked down at the book once again before I entered my room and sank down on my bed, opening the weathered book carefully, flipping to a random page. Dear Wynter It's been warmer lately, so I know that my time awake is coming to an end. Miss Emily has been pushing me harder in my lessons, so I think she senses it too. Soon it will be your turn, so I have one request - write often. Your words have become the highlight of my waking periods and I want to know everything about the winter season. I worry that I will never be able to experience it. With love, April Ps. I've stuck my favourite flower in the back of this diary. It's called a daffodil.