Archive for the '11 Years Old' Category

Eleven Year Old – Kieron Smith

I did not want to go to the Lifies. It was just daft. My da forgot what age I was. Me and the boys were going to join the BB. Ye were not supposed to join till Secondary School because then ye were twelve but at the end of Primary School ye could be twelve, so then ye were old enough. Some were ready to join. It was just a wee company at the new Church and they were wanting to recruit all new boys so maybe they would let us in the now. It was not the same one as my big brother but I could have went to that too because he chucked it. My da did not like him for chucking it but he just done it. My maw backed him up. Oh it is just too much time, I need to study.

He said that to my maw but really it was his girlfriend because it was Friday night and he just wanted to go with her. I knew it. He did not think I knew it but I did. Her maw and da let him into the house. He could sit in and he got a cup of tea, that was him and his girlfriend. She was in his school so it was trains there and back. On Friday night I always got the room to myself.

But some boys went to Bible Class. They said if ye did they would let ye in the BB sooner, if ye were still just eleven. My maw wanted me to go there. I went and then I stopped. Billy MacGregor had started going. My maw liked Billy because his maw and da went to Church and acted posh. But I did not want to go to Bible Class. The man that took it was mad. We all knew it. If it was for the BB I would go. It was in the new Church.

 James Kelman, Kieron Smith, Boy

Published in: 11 Years Old | on November 21st, 2009 | No Comments »

Eleven Year Old: Henrietta Mountjoy

 

 

Henrietta, composedly sitting up on the sofa, pushing the curved comb back, made Leopold think of a little girl he had once seen in a lithograph, bowling a hoop in a park with her hair tied on the top of her head in an old-fashioned way. His own inner excitement was so great that nothing outside, in this house, struck him as odd at all. But he had seen, from the way she had lain stretched on the sofa before waking, that even in sleep Henrietta was being exposed to unfamiliar sensation. She had lain, hair hanging down, like someone in a new element, a conjurer’s little girl levitated, rigid on air, her very sleep wary. But now she woke, her manner at once took on a touch of clear-sighted, over-riding good sense, likeAlice’s throughout Wonderland. She might marvel, but nothing, thought Leopold, would ever really happen to her.

He said: ‘Miss Fisher says you’re here for the day.’

‘I’m just crossingParis,’ Henrietta said with cosmopolitan ease.

‘Is that your monkey?’

‘Yes. I’ve had him ever since I was born.’

‘Oh,’ said Leopold, looking at Charles vaguely.

‘How old are you?’ Henrietta inquired.

‘Nine.’

‘Oh, I’m eleven.’

 Elizabeth Bowen, The House in Paris  

Published in: 11 Years Old | on November 21st, 2009 | No Comments »