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Being Mean To Michelle

“Sandra! Please, so down!” Michelle was jogging to catch up with her, but because of her “plumpness” she was a little slow. Sandra turned around slightly frustrated, and let her neighbor catch up to her. They were only about a block from the school now, but Michelle was sweating under her arms heavily and her forehead looked as if someone had thrown water on her.

“You always walk away so fast. We are supposed to walk together, remember?” Michelle wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, I forgot,” Sandra turned from the messy girl and started walking quickly towards Charcoal Lane. As she turned on it she caught a glimpse of Michelle glaring and walking fast too to stay caught up.

“Slow down, or I’m telling my mother your trying to ditch me,” Michelle’s voice rang out loud and obnoxious. With a sad defeated sigh, Sandra started walking at a snail’s pace, trying to annoy Michelle, but Michelle was content at walking that pace.

Michelle had brown hair. That’s the only way to describe it, brown. She wore is in unattractive waves that day, waves from wearing ponytails every other day. Her beady eyes were dark green, so she said, Sandra never took the time to take a closer look.

“Why do you always walk fast?” Michelle was making an odd face at Sandra. Ignoring the look, Sandra looked around for something else to look at.

“I have a lot of homework,” she said mono tone, speeding up slightly. She saw the sign almost hidden by a big green willow tree. “Oyster Rd.”

“So do I, I have math, social studies and a word search in language arts,” Michelle was talking a hundred times faster than she could walk.

“I also have a project in…” Sandra cut her off before she could finish.

“I’m sorry, Michelle, but I really need to get home, do you mind if I run ahead?” Sandra took the time to look at Michelle’s face for two seconds.

“Go ahead, but wait for me tomorrow,” Michelle said. Sandra barely caught the last part because she was already down the street turning onto her street. She jogged past the first 3 houses, pushed open the green, not white, picket fence gate. Darting up the front walk, she pulled her house key from her pocket.

Once inside Sandra took a deep breath, letting the sweet smell of home wash over her. Shutting the front door tight, she tossed her bag on the bench by the door. Kicking off her flip flops, she hurried off to the living room. Jumping over the back of the couch, she landed comfortably in her favorite spot. Flicking the TV on, she relaxed and let the babbling of commercials wash over her, relaxing her muscles.





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