She was your average girl: good in school, great at sports, and had many friends. The type of girl who looked like she had a family upon which she could always depend. If anything happened, she'd be the first person that you would tell. That was, at least, until the day her face fell. She had been really tired lately. But school work had been getting harder, so what was not to expect? Especially with all of the AP classes she took. Then came the day of the test. You had all forgotten about it, and you knew you were screwed. That was at least--for the students who didn't usually do too good. But everyone bombed that test, except for the lucky few. She was one of them. They had gotten low 70s and high 60s, not even caring about you. She just wandered around harmlessly, not believing it to be true. The test was marked sign and return, a lesson that all would sooner or later learn. The next day came, accompanied by another quiz that was made in hell. Most people got A+s. Others, not so swell. But lo, among her A= friends, she got a 93. Who knew that that bummed, a person could ever be? She was fine with it when she went home, but when she came back the next day-- all she did was blankly stare and roam. Hell was raised, she quietly proclaimed. And you could see it building up in her eyes-- the rage. Inside her head, it all replayed. Tons of silence, tears, and sorries not repaid.