Fun Things To Write In Yearbooks Novels & Stories

The girls, Cassian, and Adrian sat with notebooks, sketches, and ideas scattered across the floor. Lucian began, voice warm but firm. “We’ve documented adventures, learned skills, and safeguarded the legacy. Now it’s time to plan for the future. Long-term projects, family goals, and ways to keep learning while enjoying life.” Arian raised her hand, eager. “We can create a yearly adventure plan! Different places, skills to learn, and lessons to remember. We’ll archive it each time.” Aria added softly, “And we can make nature books for every season! Press leaves, flowers, and rocks—and write stories about them.”

Already this weekend has been a big mishap that I have had the misfortune of knowing. My eyes cry as my mother shuts the tv off. The last thing I see on the screen is my face covered in flour with the caption reading "Is Bullying on the Rise at Ashmore High?" Well, no shit, it is. It has been there from the dawn of time. Anyone who knows the school library, as well as I do, would know that yearbooks are evidence of the year-to-year mockery predating back to the Great War, World War II. There are photos defiled with comments like "Go to hell and die."

I can’t feel the cold coming from the aircon. I opened the scrapbook and showed them the first photo. “This is the concert we did before. It’s a simple activity concert that we need to perform various acts to make our MAPEH teacher entertained. We didn’t notice that we’re having a good time as well.” I turned the scrapbook to the next page.

"In seventh grade he wrote 'Have a nice summer' in Connie Michaels' yearbook. It was the harshest breakup any of us had ever seen. They only get worse from there." "That's a breakup?" "Exactly. They'd dated the entire year and then she gets a 'have a nice summer' like they were no closer than chemistry lab partners. It devastated poor Connie." I pat her on the back. "Thanks for the warning, but I'm safe from any yearbook fiascos from Ridge. I plan to keep my panties firmly on my ass." Once he sees I'm on my feet, I'll probably only see him on the occasions we pass each other in the driveway.

I need to understand what that place really is. I keep looking around until a book catches my eye—a yearbook. The book gives off this special feeling. I grab a stool, standing on it until I finally reach it. I pull it down and carry it to a nearby table, taking a seat as I blow on it, coughing from the dust. My hands tremble slightly as I flip it open. Page after page of old students stare back at me, all smiling. Achievements, honors, trophies—they're all there, posted with pride.

I wanted to capture the entire experience. I figured it would all be helpful for the school’s social media presence, including boosting the Yearbook Staff page to have photos to interact with and show our school spirit, even the ones that might not end up being purchased. It would be a lot of work for me, not only during the games but afterwards with getting them ready on the computer but it was something I felt was important and really wanted to accomplish.

The nighttime came and so did the party that Barbara was gushing about. I, however, was dreading it. She knows that I am not a party person. I am more of a girl that wants to curl up on my porch and read a book, work on some homework, or write an article for the school newspaper. Speaking of paper, I rummage through my bag for my calendar book. I check my dates in it for any assignments which need to be done, and I check for articles that need to be written. School is ending very soon, and I need to make sure my article on “fashion for the future” is finished.

He set it on the table between us. "Notebooks," he said. "One per year. Sometimes two in years when the territory had significant events." He paused. "Each one begins at the waypoint. The annual visit. What I saw when I stood at the rise and looked at the valley. What the landscape felt like." He paused. "Then the year's governance events. What the territory experienced. What I understood and what I did not." He paused. "I did not know why I began writing the waypoint observations specifically. I began at the start of my governance and kept doing it because each year the writing helped me understand the year before." I looked at the box.

“Yes, we will not deal with each other anymore.” *** James wrote several points on the whiteboard containing the activities of the club that they would choose one of them. Some of those options are in between. (1) volunteer work sorting books in the library, (2) go camping on weekends with members, (3) caring for school pets and plants, (4) patrol check school safety and school facilities, (5) volunteer work in the laboratory, (6) Check the canteen menu. Elyn was amazed to read the list of activities whose themes were very random, as well as curious. “Is this what the club has been doing all this time?”

"The bigger books are my old high school yearbooks. I used to be a huge social butterfly-" "Used to be?" Saige teased. "Fine fine. I still am but whatever. I color coded all of the different species in each other. The color meanings are on the front page of every yearbook. This smaller one is an address book" he continued. "And address book?" "Listen, back then we didn't have this fancy technology that you kids have. This was my only way of keeping in touch. Take them. Maybe you can find the witch or fairy that messed with your memories" he said.