She blinked rapidly, her eyes flickered around the room. An odd child indeed, there was no question there. She wore black, black sweat pants and a losses black shirt covered her body. Her orange hair tucked behind one ear, she had a face of freckles, along with glasses. She seemed not to be listing to the nonstop chatter of her peers that surrounded her. She nibbled on her packed lunch, she looked out of place among the abercome and the pacsun kids. A smile light her pale face as her lips moved just a barley but no one was around. She was talking to herself.

She had been taking and sing to herself since she could talk. She had imagery friends long past the other kids had thought it was uncool. When she was little her father read her Harry Potter, making up voice. Her and her brother very own Jim Dale, her over active imagination took over making up new charters and with time becoming friends with them. As J.K Rowling came out with new books they sometimes didn’t fight her world but she loved the books so changed her own world. She in time would write these stories down, and some from other idea’s that entered her mind. So to the very few that looked at her thought she had lost her mind. But if they entered my mind they would understand why I did not strive to be there friends.