Read realistic fiction
Key Notes :
đź“š What is Realistic Fiction?
- A made-up story (fiction) that could happen in real life.
- The characters, settings, and events are believable and realistic.
- Often deals with everyday problems or emotions kids might face.
🧒 Characters in Realistic Fiction
- Act and talk like real people.
- Have realistic problems, such as friendship troubles, school challenges, or family situations.
- Change or learn a lesson by the end of the story.
🏡 Setting
- Happens in a real-world place, like a school, neighborhood, or home.
- The time period is usually present-day, but can be anytime that’s realistic.
🌟 Common Themes
- Friendship
- Family relationships
- Growing up
- Facing fears
- Making choices
- Dealing with change or loss
🔍 Tips for Reading Realistic Fiction
- Connect with the characters — have you ever felt the same way?
- Think about the lesson or message the story teaches.
- Look for emotions — how do characters feel and why?
- Predict what might happen next based on real-life experiences.
Learn with an example
➡️ Read the story.
The Artist’s Secret
Destiny squeezed celery green paint onto her palette, then mixed in three drops of forest-green. Not quite. She added a fourth drop. Perfect.
She studied her canvas, where she had sketched the alphabet in bubble letters. The letter A glistened, still wet with the caramel-yellow paint Destiny had mixed. Not bad. With careful brushstrokes, Destiny began painting the B.
Under the orchestra music flowing from Ms Tamika’s sound system, Destiny could hear murmured voices. Ms Tamika was strolling around the room, visiting each student’s easel. Soon, she came Destiny’s way, stopping at Michael’s easel first.
‘Is this what you meant?’ Michael asked.
Ms Tamika’s directions were often vague. Today, she had instructed the class to create ‘word art’. When the kids asked what this meant, Ms Tamika had shrugged, saying, ‘You show me.’
‘I love your interpretation,’ Ms Tamika told Michael now, not exactly answering his question.
Stealing a glimpse, Destiny sucked in her breath. Michael had painted himself, with his hands outstretched. The letters of his own name, golden and elegant, seemed to bounce between his hands.
As Destiny turned back to her canvas, she felt her shoulders sag. How could her childish bubble alphabet be ‘word art’? It wasn’t even a word! She felt that familiar, stomach-tightening realisation that she was out of step with everyone and everything. She sighed.
‘What an interesting shade of green.’ Ms Tamika was suddenly beside her. ‘So soothing.’
Well. That was true. Maybe Ms Tamika was just being kind, but Destiny had always thought of B as a calm letter.
‘What made you choose it?’ Ms Tamika asked.
Destiny hesitated. ‘I just tried to match the colour in my mind,’ she finally said.
‘The colour in your mind?’
Destiny nodded. ‘I’ve actually never told anyone, but in my mind, each letter . . . has a colour.’ It sounded so strange.
Ms Tamika was looking at her with an open, curious expression. She pointed at the A. ‘Is A always butterscotch? Or does it change sometimes?’
‘Always butterscotch. And B is always green, and C is pale pink, like the inside of a strawberry, and, well, I could go through the whole alphabet. But I won’t.’
Ms Tamika laughed delightedly and placed her hand on her heart. ‘My A is dark red. And my S is similar to your B.’
Destiny froze. Was that possible? It seemed completely implausible that Ms Tamika could have colours for letters, too. Was she teasing?
‘It’s true,’ Ms Tamika said, as if she had read Destiny’s thoughts. ‘See, some people’s senses get a little mixed up. Or, as I like to think of it, connected. A sound might have a certain smell, or letters might have colours. It’s called synaesthesia.’ She smiled. ‘Before I learned that, I thought I was the only one who experienced this.’
‘Me, too!’ Destiny said. ‘I thought it was just me.’
‘Nope. Actually,’ Ms Tamika said, nodding towards the sound system, ‘the musician who wrote this symphony had synaesthesia, too. He saw music in colour.’ Ms Tamika touched Destiny’s shoulder, then glided to the next easel.
Destiny just stood there, listening to the music. The musician did this stuff, too? As if in answer, the music swelled. The melody was both strong and delicate, like a spider’s web. For a moment, Destiny could imagine the silken threads whispering through the air, wrapping themselves around the easels, connecting everything and everyone. Even her.Destiny smiled. Then she reached for her palette, so she could start on C.
Based on paragraphs 1 and 2, how does Destiny probably feel about the art project at the beginning of the story?
- She is annoyed about having to mix paint colours.
- She cares about it turning out just right.
- She wants to finish it as quickly as possible.
- She views it as a competition that she is winning.
Think about these details from the text:
- Destiny takes time mixing colours so they’re the right shade.
- Destiny paints the letter B with ‘careful brushstrokes’.
When people take their time and are careful, that often means that they care about doing something right.
So, you can guess that Destiny cares about her art project turning out just right.
➡️ Read the story.
Bevin’s Back Handspring
Just as Bevin was heading for the mat for floor work, Coach Tammie shouted, ‘Gather ’round for the results of last week’s skills review!’
Bevin’s stomach knotted as she took the score sheet Coach Tammie handed her. She wasn’t looking forward to this. Sure enough, every skill was checked off except for ‘back handspring’. There, Coach Tammie had scrawled a red X, followed by a comment: This is required for Advanced 2 gymnastics; repeat Advanced 1. Bevin wasn’t surprised, but still, it hurt.
Suddenly, hands covered Bevin’s eyes from behind. ‘Advanced 2, here we come!’ Olivia cried, laughing.
‘Here we don’t come,’ Bevin said grumpily. ‘I didn’t pass.’
The following Monday, Bevin felt left behind and young as she watched Olivia stride to the other side of the gym. Stuck in Advanced 1, Bevin’s body automatically completed the familiar warm-up stretches, but her eyes were on Olivia’s group. She saw Olivia and Sydney smile at each other, clearly sharing an inside joke.
After warm-ups, Bevin’s group shifted to bars, then to beam. But it was as if Bevin was only half there. The other half of her was with Advanced 2—or at least trying to be. What were they talking about, anyway? What could possibly be so interesting?
‘Bevin!’ Coach Tammie tapped her shoulder. ‘Wake up; we’re moving to floor work.’
Bevin followed Coach Tammie to the mats. She thought she heard Olivia say, ‘No way!’ followed by someone else saying, ‘It’s true.’ She strained to hear more.
‘Show me your back handspring,’ Coach Tammie said.
Bevin raised her arms, swung them down and threw her body backwards onto her hands. She was supposed to land on her feet, but she landed on her knees instead.
‘Concentrate,’ Coach Tammie murmured, like she always did. ‘Centre yourself.’
Again and again, Bevin flip-flopped backwards, only to land on her knees. She saw that Advanced 2 was now at the parallel bars. They’d probably be starting a new skill today.
‘My technique must be really bad,’ Bevin finally said, wiping her forehead. Her face was dripping with sweat.
‘Actually, I don’t think the problem is your position or movements,’ Coach Tammie said. ‘It’s more a matter of being present. But take a breather.’
At least now Bevin could find out what she’d been missing out on. Signalling Olivia, she headed for the water fountain. Olivia grinned and met her there.
‘Okay, listen to this,’ Olivia said. ‘Last week, Sydney dared Emma to wear an ugly holiday jumper to school, and she did! It literally had jingle bells on it.’
Bevin blinked. That was all they’d been laughing about?
‘Sydney says we can dare her to wear something wacky next. Any ideas?’
‘What? Oh. Maybe . . . a hat?’ She hadn’t missed out on much after all.
‘Come on,’ Olivia laughed. ‘You’re good at this stuff! Here, close your eyes. Concentrate; centre yourself.’ She said this last part in Coach Tammie’s voice, and Bevin smiled as she closed her eyes.
But the picture that came into her mind wasn’t Sydney in a wacky outfit. It was herself—Bevin—doing a perfect back handspring and landing on her feet.
Actually, she had missed out on something. She opened her eyes.
Olivia clapped her hands. ‘Got it?”Nope. I’ll think about it though, I promise. After class.’ And Bevin headed back to the mats to focus on her own work.
Based on paragraph 2, why is Bevin not looking forward to receiving the skill review results?
- She thinks she hasn’t passed the back handspring skill.
- She thinks Olivia has received a perfect score.
- She thinks she has done better than Olivia.
- She thinks she has failed all of the gymnastics skills.
Think about these details from the text:
- Bevin isn’t surprised by the fact that she passed all the skills except for the back handspring.
- Even though she’s not surprised, it still bothers her that she didn’t pass.
So, you can guess that she thinks she hasn’t passed the back handspring skill.
let’s practice!
Read the story.
Loyal
‘See you in two weeks, honey,’ Darren’s mother said, hugging him. Then she plumped his already-plump pillow. She was acting like he was going off to war instead of just camp. Luckily, the other guys’ parents were all acting the same way.
Finally, a counsellor called, ‘First hike in five minutes!’ Darren was pretty sure the counsellor was just trying to get the parents to wrap it up already.
Mum seemed to get the message. As she shouldered her handbag, Darren said, ‘Can you make sure Kim reads those instructions?’
Mum smiled. ‘I think you already asked me that a few times, honey. Don’t worry! Loyal is a good dog, and Kim is a responsible sister. She’ll take care of him.’ And she gave Darren one last hug goodbye.
Still, Darren worried all through that first hike. What if Kim didn’t add gravy to Loyal’s food? What if she didn’t walk him enough? What if she left Darren’s bedroom door closed? Loyal wouldn’t be able to sleep if he couldn’t sleep on Darren’s bed.
Lying in his bunk that night, Darren couldn’t sleep either. If only he had his phone! But phones were against camp rules. His mother had given him some blank postcards for ‘snail mail’, which didn’t sound promising. But it was his only choice. He reached for one now, along with his torch. Tenting the covers over his head, he wrote a note to Kim: ‘Hi! Just a reminder to leave my bedroom door open. Loyal likes to sleep on my bed. Love, D.’
Tucking the postcard beneath his pillow, he finally managed to fall asleep. As he dropped it in the post on the way to breakfast the next morning, he felt calmer.
What with crafts, canoeing and fishing, the day didn’t leave Darren much time for worrying. He thought about Loyal at dinner, though. The kids were joking that the burgers looked like dog food, and Darren told them that Loyal would have gobbled the entire tray. ‘So, I guess they are dog food,’ he said, grinning.
The following day was just as busy. Even breaktime was busy because Darren and his friends spent the hour making up cabin cheers. ‘Cabin 8 rocks! Smells like dirty socks!’ they chanted.
‘As your head counsellor, I agree,’ Jacob said, coming in with an armful of letters and chuckling playfully as he waved his hand in front of his nose. Darren laughed. The cabin was actually quite fragrant—crisp and pine-scented. ‘Cool postcard,’ Jacob said, handing Darren a postcard with a picture of a dog wearing sunglasses. Darren flipped it over.
‘Hey, bro!’ Kim had written. ‘Don’t worry, I’m taking good care of Loyal. He’s sleeping on my bed so he doesn’t get lonely. Don’t forget about us, or I’ll sit on you! Just kidding. You could never forget your favourite big sis.’
Kim had also sketched a cartoon of Darren and Loyal hugging, with the word ‘Reunion!’ scribbled on it.
Darren stared at the drawing. He’d never truly believed Kim would neglect Loyal, he realised now. He’d been worried about something else. But Loyal could never forget him.
He took a postcard from his bunk and wrote, ‘Kim, how could I forget you when you’re so LOUD? Just kidding. Thanks for taking care of Loyal.’ He sketched a cartoon of Kim and Loyal snuggling on her bed.
Kim looked happy in the cartoon, and so did Loyal. And this was okay. Because Loyal was . . . well, loyal.
Darren drew a quick peace sign, then headed out for fishing.