Naturally, All Saints Academy, a boarding school, came next. I gleaned tons of useful knowledge there, yet that spot still creeped me out when I mulled over everything. I actually had dreams, or perhaps bad dreams, from it now and then. They involved Mr. Radnick rubbing my entire body in that manner. I had been persuaded by my therapist that it was harmful, and just thinking about it gave me chills. Even though he didn't do it to many kids, Mr. Radnick did some really bad things to some of them, even though he was really nice to me and I probably loved him. Despite the fact that my therapy sessions were a lasting legacy of my time there, I still missed him. I put it behind me and carried on with my morning routine.

I put on the little bit of makeup that Momma would let me use while the bacon was cooking. Because he thought his baby girl shouldn't need makeup as an adult, Daddy still teased me about it.

Regardless of what Momma and Daddy said, I saw in the mirror that I wasn't a pretty girl. They were partial. With my wide cheekbones and big, set eyes, which gave the impression that I was always smiling, my face was too childish. I didn't laugh!

Then there were my eyes. My lashes were excessively lengthy, which made me look much more silly, despite the fact that Momma said that ladies adored long lashes. My eyes were blue with pink and purple flecks, especially around the pupil, which was almost a deep violet. They nearly gleamed with how blue they were away from the understudy and sort of appeared as though they were made of precious stone. I had a rather unattractive alien appearance.

Then, once more, there was my hair. It was completely straight, below my shoulder blades, and there was no one in it at all. Naturally, there was also the awful color. Who had heard of pink hair, which was the same shade of pink as my eyes? Perhaps I should have dyed it and cut it. Naturally, Momma would comment on how beautiful it was, and I shouldn't ruin anything good. I guess I would have to deal with it for a while longer.

After quick ponytailing my hair, I only needed a few minutes to put on my makeup. After that, I sprinted down the hallway to the kitchen, where I grabbed a plate and began layering the bacon and scrambled eggs on it. I also grabbed a pancake because I was aware that if I didn't, I would be teased. I would have been content with just the eggs and bacon.

I was about to eat the first piece of delicious bacon when Daddy said, "Wait for us to say grace, Shirl." Since I was a young child, Daddy still referred to me by that dreaded nickname.

I put the piece of bacon back on my plate, spread some butter on the pancake, and drizzled some syrup on top. As usual, watching my younger brother pour the majority of the bottle onto his pancakes made me feel sick. I've never been able to figure out how he could eat so much syrup.

Finally, Momma showed up at the table with the bacon platter, which had some newly added bacon on it. I held off getting any more because I was aware that I would be criticized. Daddy began the blessing over the meal once Momma was settled.

I said "amen" a little before he finished, and when he opened his eyes, he was already chewing on a piece of bacon. You need to slow down, Shirl. Momma said, "I promise it isn't going to run away," smiling. I wished that instead of my childish nickname, people would start calling me by my real name. I might have avoided it if I had started using my middle name. But I knew better. Ben would still make fun of me by calling me Shirl, even if Momma and Daddy agreed. I had the best tormentor of all, a little brother whose sole purpose in life was to afflict older sisters.

I finished what was on my plate after deciding not to eat any more bacon so that I could get to school as soon as possible. After that, I swallowed the orange juice in one go without taking a breath. I attempted. Momma sighed and said to Daddy, "She's your daughter."

When she gets a little older, she will grow out of it. I don't have to worry about dating if that's the case,” Daddy replied with a grin.

I gasped, "Daddy." I quickly pushed away the fleeting image of Gary, no, Mr. Radnick.

“What? He said, "I'm okay with that," putting on an innocent expression.

I'll find the right boy when the time is right, and he'll like me just the way I am. I said, "I eat fine." Daddy would sometimes make me believe him. I shut my eyes, pictures of Gary strutting through my brain. It was clear that the therapy wasn't helping.

Momma said almost under her breath, but not quite, "Yeah, for a boy." I decided to really ramp up the acting by pretending to cry as I looked over at Momma with a fake expression of hurt. Oh, my child. Observe, she is hurt. Momma said, "Let's put her to bed," appearing to be worried.

As Momma was saying that, I looked over at the clock and saw that I had to run, so I stopped thinking about Gary. After rushing to the sink, I washed my hands and removed the teeny-tiny drop of syrup from my right palm. I didn't like pancakes for another reason: they were messy. I hurried to the mud room, grabbed my backpack, and I slung it over my right shoulder as quickly as I could.

"For what reason would you say you are in such a race to get to school today? You ordinarily take as much time as is needed. I was about to open the door when Momma said, "Well, you're forgetting something."

I rushed over and gave her a kiss on the cheek when I realized what she was discussing. I ran to Daddy to give him a cheek kiss because I was aware that he was also waiting, but he grabbed me and gave me a tickling hug. While he gave me a quick tickle, I couldn't help but squeal for a moment before he kissed me lightly on the cheek. I love you princess. Enjoy your day at school.

"I also love you, Daddy. As I dashed out the door, I replied, "See you later." I avoided responding to the day-related suggestion. I never addressed that.

To get to school, I ran the two blocks and got there early enough to go see Mrs. Chambers in the office. While bouncing on the balls of my feet, I waited impatiently. In addition to the children, she is the only person I remember from first grade who was still present. We had a lot of military members in our community, and they were frequently transferred out, so many of them were also gone.

On the opposite side of the desk, Mrs. Chambers continued to type slowly on her keyboard. She used different keys to pause, press another key, and so on. Greetings, Shirley! With a big, sarcastic smile, Mrs. Chambers finally asked, "What can I help you with this morning?"

"Are they already in?" I said it out loud because I couldn't hold back any longer.

"What is in?" She asked, looking perplexed. I sighed and made an angry face because I was aware that Mrs. Chambers was playing with me.

"You are aware of. How was I doing?”

You are aware that I am not permitted to inform you, even if I did, which I do not. You will receive the scores this afternoon. Now, hurry to your class to avoid being late. Goodness my, yet you're early. Indeed, run on at any rate. You might be able to stay occupied if Mrs. Hartman has something for you to do.

I murmured a speedy thank you and shot a few doors down, scarcely hearing Mrs. Chambers as she hollered, "and don't run." Since I detested the insults, even though I was aware that they were probably true, I never arrived at class first.

I was extremely thankful when I arrived that Mrs. Hartman was already present and working on some papers. May I assist you, Mrs. Hartman?” I asked, moving my feet to avoid alarming her.

"Oh, Shirley, it's you. Happy morning! Despite my efforts, she said, "No, I’m just working on grades." Although I realized there were other things I could do, I was a little disappointed that I couldn't do anything about it.

"Then, can I work on the computer?"

"I think so. You will need to get off when everyone arrives so you can complete your self-directed studies,” she responded while briefly looking up at me.

I told her, slightly rising on my toes, "Thank you, Mrs. Hartman."

She played her usual game, saying, "One day, you'll smile at me." She tried everything, but it never worked.

I went to the math website I found the day before while sitting at my computer. Despite the fact that it was a website, I had no idea why it was referred to as a thesis paper. It was written by a very intelligent individual, but I struggled to comprehend some of it. I hoped that with the extra time I had, I could figure it out today. I started figuring out some of the calculations he had in his "paper" when I pulled out my journal, which I had bought just for this, and a pencil. I was writing out all of my work on this, even though I never showed it on tests. It was just too difficult not to.

I was high anticipating the test results on this day. I realized the test wasn't utilized for anything, yet I actually needed to perceive how great I did. Mrs. Hartman finished assigning homework fifteen minutes before the bell rang. The kids also held me in contempt because she never gave me homework.

"Okay class. She handed us a stack of envelopes and informed us, "We have been given the results of the F-I-C-A-T test you took last week."

As she said that, Bobby toward the rear of the class lifted his hand. " Sure, Bobby?

Bobby inquired, "What is a FICAT?" He couldn't explain why he couldn't recall anything. Since a lot of the kids were worried about failing it, we all knew what it was. However, you could not fail a test of this nature.