Here I am as usual, gazing at my book, deeply into it. No one interrupts me, not even when a frizbee flys with great altitude into my leg. I am in an entirely different world feeling my characters emotions, seeing their sights and expirencing what they touch. Against my back, the bark of the tree that I'm leaning on is rough, but I almost don't feel it because I'm so lost, buried deep in literature. The shade from the oak feels cool against my almost-sunburmt, tanned skin and the grass underneath me is scarce due the lack of sunlight reaching it. Instead, there is mostly dirt coating my bright red basketball shorts. Out of the blue, the frizbee appears again, nearly decapitating me this time, but I slide my back down the trunk and the wood deadens the impact before it comes falling into my lap. I can feel my face heating up. Whoever interrupted my concentration is going to pay for it. I look up from my book to see a lanky boy about my age with bright eyes and brown hair just a shade darker than my brunette runs up to me, apologizing like he fatally injured me. He sees my reddened face and backs off about three feet, but I see his sincerity and my anger turns into a friendly smile. He shoots a grin back, taked his frizbee from my outstretched hand and runs away.