Ficlets

outcast.

“how was school, giselle?” my dad asked, breaking in a new la-z-boy, reading the paper.
i pretended to vomit.
“that bad, huh? well, you’ll make friends!” my dad said, turning back to his business section.
all the girls there had long, flowy hair, and all the boys looked like they had just come out of Sports Illustrated. it was a nightmare. there had been whispers surrounding me, no matter where i went. it seems that news travels fast in this pathetic, little town.
i sulked up to my room to start on my catch-up homework. pulling the books out of my bag, i could tell just by flipping through the pages that this year was going to be a piece of cake. back in my old city (which i miss so much), i went to an advanced arts & science school, where the work was a lot harder. after about 20 minutes, i had finished all of it.
“now that that’s done…” i cranked up my music all the way and began sketching fairies and elves, all modeled after my old friends.

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