Feared by boys and hated by girls, this clever little eleven year old sits busily doing her work. Her competitors, in an advanced class with her that they took on Thursdays, had already turned their papers in. She couldn’t wait to grade them, how fun. She was throroughly convinced that one of them was a robot, and the other one was just a very lucky farm boy. Both of them had glasses, and as wrong as it may have been, she loved taking them off and switching them so that they thought they could see and veered into a wall.

Oh, how she wished she had a ponytail holder. Her thin blonde hair kept getting into her face. She started with the ponytail position and threw it over her shoulder, hoping that it would be as successful. Wrong. It ventured into her eyes again. Great. She had all the fat of an underfed chihuahua, and yet the boys all called her Tubby-Custard. And they couldn’t even spell it. Her eye color was indescribable, a medley of colors that looked different from every direction.

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