Look: Thin, wavy black hair, thin purple T-shirt, ripped jeans.
Personality: Shy, but only when she doesn't know anybody.
I wake up with a sick feeling in my stomach. Today is January 4th, my first day at my new school in eighth grade. I'd just moved to Minnesota from Arizona a week before. It was one thing to get used to the rural countryside, but another to get accustomed to the freezing temperatures. After shoving on a purple shirt I've had for ages and some jeans, I head out the door following the scent trail of bacon and eggs. After quickly shoveling breakfast in my mouth, which, by the way, tasted like nothing, I search my closet for my new coat, hat, and gloves. My mom runs up to me, planting a wet, slippery kiss on my cheek. I duck away in annoyance and, after shouting goodbye, I run out the door to catch the fast- approaching bus.
"Everyone makes mistakes. That's why pencils have erasers."
"Space isn't remote at all. It's only an hour's drive away if your car can go straight upwards."~ A British Astronomer