Ok, the nickname is retarded, the one he gave me. I'm Cassandrya, but I have a few nicknames. Chris calls me 'Pookie', most people call me Cass, Cassie, or 'Drya and Chris is the only one I'll let call me that ridiculous nickname. I'm wearing my favorite hip huggers, a baggy shirt (which used to be his old football jersey) and my black, blue and silver Reeboks. Chris and I wear the same size shoe, I know he might try to snag em. I don't like the shoes girls have out there, so I get my shoes from the guys' section.
Enough of the basic info. I'm sitting in my last class, waiting for the bell to ring. My seat is next to the window and I look out to find Chris waving at me. I can't wait to leave this hodink bitty town and go to Orlando. This is the last day of school and we start toward Orlando, Florida after dinner, about 7:30 tonight I think he said. "Cassandrya, what was the dog God's name according to the ancient Egyptians?" Mrs. Grier asks me.
I'm in my 6th grade history class, top student in my grade. ADHD hasn't even stopped me from being the best, I just have to put more effort in than most kids my age. "The dog God's name is Anubis, he played an important role in the burial process for the pharaohs and their families."
"Thank you."
I watch the clock slowly tick away the minutes, it's only three minutes before school's out and I'm growing impatient. I've handed in extra credit work and a written exam, all of it a week ago. I get so wrapped up in my thoughts that the final bell catches me off guard, making me jump when it rings.
I grab my bag and dart out of the school faster than I've done all year, even when it came to soccer or cheerleading practice. I did basketball cheer squad and played soccer, I have received medals and trophies for both because I busted my butt to be as good as I am.
Gymnastics and martial arts have been in my after school schedule since preschool, today being of no exception. I jump in his VW and we take off for the gymnastics meet I have today, remembering that I have a martial arts meet and competition at four. I get out of school at 1:30, attend gymnastics from four until 5:30 and participate in my other activity between 6 and 8. I spend weekends practicing both gymnastics and martial arts if I don't have a meet or tournament, I'm always practicing something. I'm a very physically active preteen girl. I have vocal lessons from 8:30-9 every night during the week, which is a waste because I'll never have a reason to use it. I'm a tenor/falsetto depending on the notes in the piece I'm singing. Weekends are spent practicing and having vocal lessons, the latter being after dinner for three hours. This means tonight is my last night for these three things in Clarion.
I check the time on my watch as 'Lan and I get back in his beater, noting that my vocal coach will be there mere minutes after us. Her name is Patrice, but I call her Pat. She's in her late twenties, red-brown hair, gray-blue stormy eyes and looks like a real woman-she has curves and reminds me of Marilyn Monroe. "Vocal lessons?" he asks me.
"We'll barely make it home before she arrives."
He sighs and starts the engine, backing out of the parking lot. The short ride home is spent with Chris and I doing vocal warm ups, I began them alone and his true falsetto voice joined in as I do my scales. We even sing the short conversation we share.
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