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Lost.

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“Poverty, can anyone tell me what poverty is?” asked Mrs. Turner.
Lucille looked around the classroom, hoping she wouldn’t get called on since U.S. History and Government is her worst subject. She didn’t understand what was blocking her from adding this class to the list of A’s on her report card.

Ding! Lucille was saved by the bell. She packed up her belongings and walked to her next class. In between classes was the only time Lucille has to herself. During class she paid strict attention to her teachers and once she got home she cracked open her books and dedicated more of her attention to her school work.
When Lucille walked, she was very wary about bumping into people while she walked at a moderate pace to her next class. Before she entered the classroom she sighed and adjusted her focus to the front of the room.

“Okay students, as I walk around the room collecting homework I will pass back your tests.”
Lucille finally had time to relax because she was always prompt in completing her homework and her grades were always efficient. Except for History, that was a whole different story. She turned to her right and noticed the indifferent expression on her fellow classmate’s face. She tries to figure out why Dylan was always stoic with everything in life. She felt the light paper hit her hand and she turned her test over. Lucille smiled with pride because her grades were right on track, leading to her planned future.
Ding! The school day was now over and Lucille began her regimen. When school was not in session, Lucille was her own martinet; she ate at the same time every day making sure she fulfilled the necessary daily fibers, proteins and produce in her diet, she ran a mile every day, rain or shine, turning her heart into a source of endurance and, lastly, she studied every corner and section of every page to make sure she understood the concept of each subject she learned. Except for History, that’s a whole different story.
After she finished her routine, gingerly, she went to the bowling alley with her friend Erin. They both headed directly to the front desk to receive their bowling shoes and their custom made bowling balls. Lucille and Erin often bowled since it was convenient, affordable and a great way to relive stress. Lucille’s ball had pictures of the food pyramid and gym accoutrements; basically everything a Nutritionist would need her their career. Erin was more of an aggressive person. She wanted to be a lawyer and was always ready for controversy. He ball included pictures of money, along with pictures of the different branches of government. Now History, that’s her story.
They both sat down and got settled at their lane when an echoing noise startled them. They turned around to the front door and watched four girls enter into the bowling alley. They walked like jackals, looking for someone to hunt, for a weakling that wouldn’t cause them any trouble. The four girls started to walk over to Lucille and Erin. One of the girls was dressed in very tight, black clothes with perfect straight black hair, the other one was very skinny and she was dressed in fishnet leggings with a skull on her shirt. The third girl seemed like the coward of the group, she was constantly tripping and touching her hair. The last girl looked very familiar to Lucille, but she couldn’t remember who the girl was.
“Hey,” the four girls said in sync. Lucille and Erin looked at each other having absolutely no idea what they wanted. Erin, the brave of the two, responded, “Hi, do we know you?” The four girls turned their heads to one another and chuckled.
“No you don’t know us, but the other girl defiantly does. Tell her Lucille tell her how you know us.”
Lucille started to become worried and scared. Lucille only recognized one girl, but she couldn’t put her finger on it, and for ever reason it was it wasn’t bad. Lucille finally had the courage to speak up. “How’d you know my name? I only know one of you. What do you guys want?” she asked cautiously.
The four girls looked her up and down with disgust at her outfit. One of the girls spoke up with an arrogant attitude. “I’m Molly, you don’t remember me at all?” Lucille shut her eyes and thought and thought and thought, but nothing. She couldn’t remember any of them, she even started to forget the one she did remember in the first place.
“No, sorry but I don’t. I apologize, don’t take it offensively.” The four girls left with disappointment.
As the girls were walking away, Molly turned back and handed Lucille a note.
Lucille we’re very sorry you don’t remember us. We were your friends from Kingston High School before your accident. Your mom warned us about this, but we thought there would still be hope. The scar you have on your scalp is from your operation. You and your father were in a terrible car accident causing you to have memory damage and not remember anything before that day. We’re sorry, Lucille, but remember that we’ll always love you.
A tear dropped from Lucille’s face, landing on the note. The letter “v” in love now looked like a letter “s” … spelling the word lose. That’s what Lucille had felt; she felt like she had vanished knowing she would be unable to find everything that she had lost.





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