Every day she stalked into the classroom hauling stacks upon stacks of books. However, the books were not for class. They were of her own personally collection. She would take her seat near the back piling the books onto the desk, putting the overflow into the basket below her seat, and claiming her imaginary throne. When the teacher would speak she continues to read. Her eyes scan the pages as the world fades out around her. When the teacher attempts to chastise her, for the thousandth time, she grunts and rolls her eyes. She places her book in one of the stacks that sit upon her throne. Though, she never actually takes her hand away from the bundle of torn and tattered pages. “Heather, we have talked about this! I am happy that you love to read, but when you are in class you must listen to me! Now put the books away!”
   

Now that the spotlight has found her face the teasing and name-calling has commenced. “She’s such a freak.” “What the hell is wrong with her?” A few horrid students whisper insults under their breath. Her ears pick up the jabs. She stares straight ahead, but yells at the student to her left… “Why don’t you shut the hell up and worry about yourself!” That remark sets off an argument to which her voice rises and rises until lion-like roar erupts from her throat. The roar is mixed with curse words and insults. The teacher, of course only caring about Heather’s role in the argument, sends her off to have a nice talk with the principle. As she stalks off you can hear her mutter an insult directed at the teacher to which the whole class gasps. The teacher yells for her to come back yet she continues to walk. “She’s such a freak.” Is muttered from a few seats behind me. “She’s not a freak she’s just weird.” I think to myself, and ‘weird’ is a good thing.