Revision

I chose this essay because I truly felt that it could use improvement. When I thought back on it, several aspects of the true event were missing in this paper. I focused on word choice and voice, and I did so mainly because I felt that some words were out of place. This greatly improved the paper in my opinion mainly due to the fact that it gave so many of the events in the paper clarity. I am glad that I revised this essay because I feel that it had the most work that needed to be done.

King of The School 

It's mid-October, on a Friday night, around 7:00. I'm sitting alone on a blue wooden picnic table right outside of the concession stand that sits parallel to the busy football field. Our team is playing some school from Baton Rouge. Don't remember who, don't care much either. The smell of mediocre mozzarella sticks is carried my way by the autumn wind, making my stomach growl. I search the pockets of my jeans, and I'm disappointed to pull out one crumpled and a slightly torn dollar bill.
I look up as my friend Harry walks by; he seems to be searching for something. With a laugh, I call out to him, and I point out that he only has one shoe. By the exasperated expression on his face, I can tell that, clearly, he already realizes that. With little explanation, he asks me to follow him over to the outdoor elementary basketball court. A group of kids my age and older stands on the map of the U.S. that's been painted onto the concrete in vibrant colors. No surprise, this is a common place to hang out, far away from adult eyes. Several boys are pointing at something on the roof and laughing. I turn my head and see that, as I had guessed, Harry's missing shoe is the object of their amusement.
Apparently, three people from my grade, including Harry, had tried to climb the basketball goal to reach the roof. When I ask one of those people, my good friend Austin Neal, why none of them had made it, he replies that there was a part of the climb that was too risky. So, of course being me, I decided to try and climb it.
In order to get to one of the bars of the basketball goal that you pull yourself up on, you need a boost from someone on the ground. Harry interlaces his fingers and gives me an extra step. As I pull myself up, I realize the part that Austin had mentioned. If you wanted to reach the roof, you had to jump from the goal and onto the roof to retrieve Harry's shoe. I used to hate heights. Maybe that's why I do it, to prove the fear I once nurtured was truly dead. I leap onto the roof, and I land rather easily. The people on the court cheer and I toss Harry his shoe. Austin calls out for me to get down, but I don't want to.
I look around. I have gone to this school for nine years, and this is a completely new perspective. The thing I notice immediately is that all of the buildings are connected by a tin roof that shields the walkways from rain, and a plan begins to formulate in my mind. I walk back to the edge of the roof and get on my stomach. I slide back until I’m hanging onto the roof by my fingertips, and I drop. It’s a short fall, and soon I’m jogging back over to my friends.
Harry high-fives me, and I pull him over to the rusted swings that sit next to the court. As I tell him about my plan for the tin roof, I can see that he would rather die than miss out on what I just proposed.
We both make our excuses, and then we run as fast as we can to the main quad. I walk up the disabled ramp that leads to one of the side buildings. I step up onto the paint-flaked railing that lines the ramp. As I grab onto the tin roof, my hand slides and my palm is cut open, followed by searing pain, causing my hand to throb. I curse and cradle my it to my chest. Upon further inspection, it isn’t as bad as I thought, but it is still a significant cut.
I turn around and tell Harry to be careful. He nods impatiently and motions for me to keep climbing. I place my palms flat on top of the roof and pull myself up. To make it easier for him, I grab Harry’s hand with my uninjured one and pull him up. We duck low and run as quietly as we can, but every footstep sounds like a cannon shot. After about forty feet, we make it to a four-way intersection. We can either go left to the high school, straight to the gym, or right to the lower school building.
We finally make it to the lower school, and I get on one knee so that Harry can step on the other to get on the roof. He reaches down and pulls me up. As we stand up and brush the bits of asphalt and leaves from our shirts, we turn and look towards the field. This is the roof where Harry’s shoe was stuck. Here we take a break, for fear that it would be risking too much to try to traverse the entire school at one time. From here we can see the game, and I see the dismay on Harry’s open face as he realizes our team is losing by at least thirty points. What else did he expect? I don’t know.
After a quick break, we're off again. We drop back down onto the same tin and travel back the same way. But this time, instead of turning left to go to the side building, we keep going straight towards the high school. We repeat the same process as before, and soon we're on the roof again. I look over towards the elementary, and I notice something that stops me in my tracks. The gym and elementary are connected by another, shorter, tin roof. The gym is set diagonally left from the elementary school, and diagonally right is the huge concession stand building. This is monumental because if not for this, there’s no way we would have been able to get onto the gym. Set horizontally between the concession stand and the gym is a pipe about three feet up. Harry instantly recognizes what I’m gesturing towards, and he tells me exactly what I’m thinking. We should climb the gym, a building that’s three times taller than any other building at the school. I hop down onto the tin, not caring if I’m seen or heard as I run towards the elementary.
As I make my way to the pipe, Harry suddenly stops me. He grabs the back of my shirt and whispers vehemently, telling me that a woman is staring in our direction. I lie down on the tin between the gym and concession stand, waiting for her eyes to find another object of interest. Finally, her attention turns away from us, and we can make it onto the gym roof.
The roof is at a slant of about thirty-five degrees, and the distance to the middle is almost thirty yards. We crawl up to the middle, careful not to slip. I make it up first, and I sit on the roof’s spine. I slide slowly towards the front of the gym and let my legs hang off. I’m not scared of heights. Not now. The wind is blowing fiercely all around me. A frail memory of sunlight struggles to stay above the horizon. I am content.