Social Issues
My past is misery; my present, agony; my future, bleak. And it is not just because I'm a thirteen-year-old girl, or because I'm too thin or too tall or because my hair is red (it's orange actually—but they call it red).
Jimmy Blatzo saw three large brownie squares in a Ziploc bag on the table. He grabbed the squares. "This is your punishment."
He pulled one out and crammed it into his mouth.
"May I have the bag back?" Justine asked. "Reduce. Reuse. Recycle."
"Not a chance," he said, chewing. He marched out of the cafeteria.
"That's too bad," Justine told Michael and Safdar.
"What?" Safdar asked. "That you just made enemies with the biggest bully in the school?"
"Or that he drank your juice, smashed your sandwiches and took your dessert?" said Michael.
"No," said Justine. "That he took the Ziploc bag. I was hoping to use it for the whole school year. Plus, those brownies were part of my science project."
Winnie barked. Kelly let her go. The dog scampered out from under the blanket. Kelly pushed it away in time to see Winnie run out the door.
Good. She was going to attack the outlaw. Kelly jumped to her feet. She'd help her. Together, they'd send the robber flying. She ran after Winnie.
At first, she thought Winnie didn't need her help. The red-haired outlaw lay flat on his back in a patch of clover. Winnie stood on his stomach.
"Yay, Winnie!" Kelly shouted.
Then she saw that Winnie's tail was wagging. She was licking the outlaw's face. The outlaw was laughing.
