October 19, 2008

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By now, everyone was used to me being upstairs with the Grade fives. No one stared anymore, or whispered, or well, did anything abnormal. 

Except for a few mean boys here and there. But then again, those were practically unavoidable. Even as a Kindergartener, I had people calling me a "nerd".

But I never told her parents, afraid that they'd tell the principal and then I'll get in even more disfavor with those boys. I was pretty sure that they bullied me because she was so young. 

Or maybe because I was smarter than them.

The day of her birthday was weird. At this school, the principal sends a notice up to the teacher every time there was a birthday. So when it was mine, the whole class — thirty students — turned their heads and stared at me. I wished I was invisible.

The teacher only said, "Well, Happy birthday, Sophie. You're turning... eight?"

"No, only six," I replied.

The teacher shook his head and muttered something about skipping grades.

The rest of the day was pretty normal if you didn't count the fact that the mean boys had stuck a paper with 'IT'S MA BORTHDAY' on her back. 

Well, this time, it was too much. When I got home, I had a fit because my parents got riled up and were prepared to go talk to the principal right then, so I screamed at them that that was exactly what I was trying to avoid, then I ran outside, steaming mad.

Unfortunately, I was blinded by tears.

Unfortunately, I didn't notice the rock in front of me.

Unfortunately, I tripped on it. 

Unfortunately, I hit my head on the ground.

Hard.

"Hey!" Mr. Forkle, my neighbour, cried.

"Sophie!" my mom screamed.

Feet pounded on the driveway beside me, and the last thing I remembered was Mr. Forkle putting his fingers on my temples and whispering, "It's all right, Sophie. Don't panic. Just sleep,"

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