I just watched and thought and dreamed. Then in the fifth grade Shelly Stalls came into the picture.
Shelly Stalls is a ninny. A whiny, gossipy, backstabbing ninny who says one thing to one person and the opposite to another.
Now that we’re in junior high, she’s the undisputed diva of drama, but even back in elementary school she knew how to put on a performance.
Especially when it came to P.E. I never once saw her run laps or do calisthenics.
Instead, she would go into her “delicate” act, claiming her body would absolutely collapse from the strain if she ran or jumped or stretched.
It worked. Every year. She’d bring in some note and be sure to swoon a little for the teacher the first few days of the year,
after which she’d be excused from anything that required muscles. She never even put up her own chair at the end of the day.
The only muscles she exercised regularly were the ones around her mouth, and those she worked out nonstop.
If there was an Olympic contest for talking, Shelly Stalls would sweep the event.
Well, she’d at least win the gold and silver– one medal for each side of her mouth.
What bugged me about it was not the fact that she got out of P.E.—who’d want her on their team, anyway?
What bugged me about it was that anyone who bothered to look would know that
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