• Once there was a young girl named Stacy, that’s me! I was 11 at the time and beautiful with my long, red, flowing hair. I had a little brother named Mike that was 8 years old. I also had 3 pets: a dog named Casey, a hamster named Mr. Nibbles, and a rabbit named Kay. I loved each and every one of them. I resembled my mother in so many ways some people would tell me.
    I was walking with my friend Sam on the way to school. Sam was short and he had brown hair and at least ten freckles dotted on his nose and down to his dimples. He walked in his regular school uniform while kicking a rock the size of a pea.
    “How do you think you did on that spelling test you did last week?” I asked eying the stone.
    “Oh, I don’t know. It seemed pretty easy. Maybe I got a B or something like that.” He replied still staring at the stone. It went quiet. It was almost as if the sun had gone out and we were the only two left on Earth. I shuddered at the thought. Sam didn’t notice. Though the silence seemed to bother me, it didn’t to him. I was used to this kind of reacting from Sam. I’ve known him since we were in diapers.
    “Ding, Ding, Ding” The school bell tolled. We were late for class horror struck through our bodies as we ran. I knew we were thinking the same thing. We envisioned Ms.Callie and her “naughty stick” slapping our wrists. This time Mike was the one who shuddered. We raced toward the door like two cheetahs, which hadn’t eaten since the first of the month, eying their prey, and lunging in for the attack. We rushed through the door so quickly that pieces of paper had begun to fly off the kid's desks and onto the floor. We settled into our seats luckily before Ms. Callie had entered the room. I met up with my friend Francesca and after a while Sam joined us.
    Our schoolhouse looked just as any other schoolhouse. It was a big, red, brick building separated into 3 rooms. The rooms had a blue tint inside and had one solid blackboard in each room. In front of the blackboard sat wooden tables and chairs. The first room had many toys and cradles. It was the room for younger kids from 1-6. The second room and third only had one difference from each other. That difference was the age. In the second room was where I was. It was for 7 to 11-years old. The third and final room was for children 12 and up.
    “Class!” Ms.Callie screeched as she hit a ruler against the table with a strident sound. The sound was unexpected and made half the class jump as they straightened themselves in their seats. Ms. Callie was tall and very thin. She had short blonde hair that shined a glossy shine when the sun hit it. She seemed dazzling, but it just covered up the mean and crazy hidden inside her.
    “Today class we will learn multiplication” Her voice squeaked. “This may be…advanced for some of the younger children, but I assure you it will be as easy as baking a sugar creme pie.” There she went on with her filthy little lies. I was sure that there’s no such thing as a sugar creme pie and if there is I doubted it was easy to make. She continued to torture us about fractions and what not. I could hear my brother, Mike, snoring lightly in the back.
    When recess time came Sam and I rushed out the door. At this point some kids from the higher classes ditched school. Once I saw the open slide I rushed to it before Sam could beat me there. I was suddenly thrown back with so mush force that my vision went black as my head thrust down onto a moss-covered rock and bruised my head the size of a potato. Once my vision came to I looked up, my face filled with anger at who had shoved me. I glanced up only to be stepped upon by Jamison. He was a bully from the higher up class. He had been a bully all his life. He despised me and my friends, especially Sam. Back when we were in the younger class Sam had gotten him in trouble by telling the teacher that Jamison had beaten him up as he showed her the scars. The teacher dragged him outside and he was suspended from school.
    “Get up snot head. It’s not like you could do anything about it anyways.” He sneered.
    By then I had gotten very furious. My face was almost as red as my hair as I got up and stared him in the eyes.
    “Wow! What are you going to do to me? Tickle me to death? I’m so scared.” He continued to mock as he wove his hands in the air imitating a little girl running from danger.
    “No” I answered sternly. Right then Jamison was on the ground blood was spewing out of his nose like it would never stop. Everyone seemed confused at what was happening. Jamison also had a confused look tattooed on his face that was quickly replaced by fear and horror. He got up and ran away as fast as he could while only one person followed. I was walking slowly my face was a shade of bright red and my nostrils were flaring. All I heard was Sam shouting “NO! Please! Stop Stacy! Don’t do this!” in a distance.