June 12, 2013

                                    

                                          
Years had passed since that trip. I never saw Olivia again, although I once saw a girl who looked just like her. Amazed that she had returned, I leapt for joy and hugged her—right in the middle of a supermarket. My mother apologized profusely, but I could see she was secretly relieved that it wasn't truly Olivia. I never made any rash decisions after that. 
                          
Graduation was right around the corner, and I would be one of the youngest high school students recorded soon. Grade nine and only nine years old. Wonderful. 
                          
Girls who had been popular because of Olivia's sister had also began tormenting me, as if losing my only friend—up until now—was any less traumatizing. They blamed me for the family's move, although I told them numerous times that they were already planning it. 
                          
I wished to get out of this wretched school, but I was nervous about skipping more grades. So I stayed put although this algebra problem I was doing at this exact moment was part of an algorithm that I had learned two years ago. 
                          
No one ever approached me besides Olivia, despite the unending amount of summer camps and clubs for girls my age my parents signed me up for. Why, just last week, I was sent to a ballet class, and was kicked out that very day for being too clumsy. 
                          
Then there was that time I went to an overnight camp funded by my science club, and when I aced that Grade 7 pop quiz (we were only eight) the other kids looked at me like I was an alien. Not to mention the time we returned that ice cream shop in our little vacation town and the man at the shop remembered me. 
                          
Needless to say, we left four hours earlier. 
                          
To blend in I adopted a grey style, and everything I owned was in shades of black, white, and grey (except white and black don't have shades). I was gifted an iPod recently and carry it around everywhere now. I even got grey earbuds so I'd get caught less!
                          
My parents still thought I had friends. Though I suppose that was my fault. I didn't want to go to any more summer camps for "bonding" so I just said I made friends with two smart girls in my class called Lisa and Lauren. 
                          
There were no girls in my class by that name. 
                          
Now the amount of camps and clubs had ceased, but that still left my loneliness. I suppose I didn't mind; I wanted to blend in as much as possible. But I already have two scholarships for university—one was Harvard—and I wasn't even in high school!
                          
I could tell people were jealous. Somehow I got front page on a newspaper ("NINE-YEAR-OLD SOPHIE FOSTER GETS SCHOLARSHIP FOR HARVARD!") and by the end of the week my name was being hissed—no kidding—by every student in the grade.
                          
I must say, it goes well with the teachers (for now) because they want to be mentioned in my autobiography in case I find the cure for cancer or something. As if I would ever write 'Mr. Bass was the NICEST and SMARTEST science teacher I could EVER aske for!'
                          
But that was only school. Telepathy was another issue.
                          
Mr. Forkle seemed to have stopped suspecting me, but I see him staring at me sometimes when he thinks I'm not looking. And once, I swear I saw him climbing out my room's window at 2:00 a.m. in the morning. 
                          
I still didn't know how to block out the thoughts, and it was seriously getting on my nerves. Amy had become a very annoying little girl, and bothered me with everything I did. 
                          
"SOPHIE!" she screamed. 
                          
Great. Another Amy episode. 
                          
"What?" I yelled back from my room, where I forced myself to lower the volume of my music.