Um, yeah–this next snippet came out of pretty much nowhere.? I was working on revisions last night, and BAM!? ? ending up writing ? this instead.? I’m thinking it’s my brain’s way of procrastinating.? Just posting it for kicks and giggles.? Cheers!
Trista Bailey’s blond ponytail swung with just the right amount of enthusiasm when she bounced down the halls.? She clutched her pristine purple notebook to her chest, laughing that tinkling laugh that made everyone flock to her like brainless ducks.? Her jeans managed to be relaxed without looking sloppy, and her cream-colored shirt seemed to repel stains—even on spaghetti day. Her metal-free mouth never called anyone names—not even Bobby Stiffey.
But none of that mattered. I didn’t care if everyone at school—in the whole county, even—thought Trista could poop new kidneys for babies. I knew she was a big fat fake.? Like Mama always said—nobody is that perfect.? And it was my job to prove it.? Even if proving it would make me the meanest girl in all of Hobblesworth, I was going to bring Trista Bailey down.
Right after I finished mastering fractions for my sixth-grade math test which, at the rate I was going, would? take at least a? century.? Lucky for Trista I sucked at math.Share on Facebook