Author's Note: This is my first story and my grammar may not be the best.
Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom characters. Italicized writing is someone's thoughts.
"Okay, class your only homework for the week is to write a special Who am I? report on someone you know," Ms. Wilkins said.
Here I'm sitting at my desk paying attention to Ms. Wilkins, my fifth grade teacher, when I get the best idea for the report. But, when don't I get a great idea for anything? My name is Taylor Smith, and I am a fifth grade brainiac. I have had straight As since kindergarten. My great idea is that I'll do my report on my neighbor. My neighbor just happens to be Danny Fenton/Phantom. Maybe his friends will do it too. I sure hope so because it would mean a lot to me. Meanwhile, I'm stuck in my classroom which is cluttered with pencils on the floor, and some papers shoved in random places. I can't wait until class is out because it will be just me and Ms. Wilkins.I don't have any friends; I usually just read or go on the swings during recess. I guess Danny can be considered my friend, but i really don't care because I am used to being alone, and I find some kids annoying or very immature for some odd reason. Maybe its the irony of me being the youngest in the class, but being the most mature. The whole classroom is buzzing with chatter from my peers. I look out the window and see a beautiful blue sky, a gentle wind moving the branches on trees, and some robins in their nests feeding their babies. Briinnng! Briinnng! Oh that's the bell. I dash to the door so, I could run home to ask Danny. Just as I'm about to leave school campus, I remember something important.
I just remembered that I was going to help Ms. Wilkins clean the classroom. I made my way to the classroom and opened the door .
"Oh, Taylor you were in such a rush when the bell rang I thought you had to go home. Oh well, you're here bow. You can start by sweeping the floor." Ms. Wilkins said cheerfully.
"No problem," I replied while grabbing the broom from the corner of the room.
I started sweeping up pencil shavings, pieces of paper shreds, and other pieces of trash. Why can't people clean up after themselves? I stopped to pick up a water bottle that was on the floor.
"Do you have any ideas for your report, Taylor? " Ms. Wilkins asked as she started to fix the desks that were moved out of place.
"Huh, Oh yes I do. It's going to be a surprise, " I said proudly.
I continued sweeping for 15 minutes, and then Ms. Wilkins stopped me. She had a smile on her face that made her look pretty. Ms. Wilkins is pretty. She's only 25, has long brown hair that falls down her back midway in soft waves, and has light gray eyes that have a little bit of blue in the center.
"Taylor, you could go home now. The room isn't too messy today." Ms. Wilkins stated appreciatively.
I put my backpack on and said good bye to Ms. Wilkins. I started my walk home, and got to my house 15 minutes later. My house is a two story brick house with some roses and violets in the front yard.
"Taylor, dear, I'm in the living room dusting," Mom said while coughing and sneezing.
"Is it okay if I go to the Fenton's for a little bit? I need to ask if they'll let me do a report on them." I asked hopefully.
"Okay, just be back at home by 9:30," Mom answered as she put hte duster back to its spot with all the other cleaning stuff.
I grabbed my notebook and pencil and started to walk out the door when my mom dropped something.
"Taylor. Can you pick up that picture. Oh, there's cookies in the kitchen. Bring them over to the Fenton's house, please." Mom said while breathing heavily, clearly shaken from the picture falling.
"Okay," I answered back while picking up the picture.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed the cookies.
"Bye!" I yelled so Mom would hear me.
I walked out the door, and started to walk to Fenton Works.
Author's Note: Please review and tell me how it was. The next chapter will be up soon. No flames please, and everything else will be accepted with open arms.