A plastic flower. I had the feeling that she'd look like this when she was fifty, but pulled at the corners after the petals had been torn and ripped off from abuse.
I don't think she would get something like that.
I faced her, not even knowing her name, thinking this, not concentrating on my routine at all. (They needed me anyway-- who cared if I was any good?) I was picking my own little name for her. Lilly...Daisy...Chrysanthymum (however that's spelled). Chrissy.
"Go," she said.
Yes, Chrissy. Pissy Chrissy who hated us all here.
Not to feed a stereotype, certainly. I knew lots of really nice girls on the squad. Really nice, intelligent girls who won science fairs and stood up to Chrissy and helped me plan my routine.
Cartwheel in. Weird kicky cheery happiness. Two backflips...one mid air split...Land on one foot and smile.
Or something like that.
I loved the faces they made: eek
They sent me home to go play Assassin's Creed (which is a damn good game) and wait till tomorrow to see if I'd made it.
 itHappened2my--- · Mon Sep 01, 2008 @ 02:47pm · 0 Comments |
