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Who Are You?

As I entered English class, I noticed a girl with black, wavy hair. In her right hand was a mechanical pencil, and she was busy doing the bellringer. As I took my seat, I noticed that on her right wrist, she had three hair bands. Two were black, and the third one was gray. When I was about to start the bellringer, she finished, and the obvious tension in her shoulders loosened. Then, she reached into her backpack and pulled out her folder and notebook to be ready for class. She had a serene expression on her face, but when I studied her closely, her black eyes were not sparkling with energy. Instead, her eyes seemed to convey fatigue. The girl did not smile until someone or I talked to her. Immediately, she would be rejuvenated, and her eyes would hint a mixture of playfulness and mischief. A wide smile would not come off her face until someone or I finished the conversation or the teacher was starting class. When class started, the scholarly girl would pay attention to the teacher, take notes, and would not try to sneak a glance at her phone. After English class, the girl would always crack jokes and make me have a good chuckle. The girl is my friend, my best friend. 

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