Changes

Deleted the chat box. Anyways, first portion of my story.

I could feel Tatiana Ornokovsky looking interestedly at me, as if I were a limited-edition Juicy Couture tracksuit. I knew she had her head tilted to one side, a curtain of burgundy-auburn brown hair falling against the side of her head, glowing from the shafts of afternoon sunlight spilling from the windows. I knew all this, because I sat close to her in class, and had also watched her from my lowly “scholarship kid” spot in the cafeteria. I had spent countless afternoons analyzing what she did, that made her so popular, so likable. I pretended not to notice her staring, instead taking my notes on Mrs. Garcia’s lecture of the accomplishments of the Roman Empire. I knew I was being sized up. Today was the day that her clique, that most popular girls in the 9^th grade, would choose a new member (Summer Lynstrom had moved to Albany, ditching her friends back in Miami). Minutes later, a folded piece of Smythson of Bond Street stationary landed on my scratched-up, faux-wood desk. I shoved it under my notebook when Mrs. Garcia’s sharp falcon eyes rested on me. I’d read it later, maybe after class.
Mrs. Garcia sighed when she realized that many of her students were not really paying attention. “Fine,” she said. “Mrs. Garcia will allow you the remainder of the period to work on your homework. You may work in partners, but silently.”
And then she shuffled off in her brown, sensible-heeled loafers to her desk, where she undoubtedly would be going on the computer to her Myspace account.

Anyone can add to this story. Send me the continuation via email (it's like a chain letter). Anyways, everything here is copyrighted. So don't worry about plagiarizing. We'll be keeping this post forever in case it is needed as court evidence.

-Abby