Faces. There are a lot of different types of faces around here, I’ve noticed. There are cruel faces, like Mom and Pop (finally in jail where they be long), and Ms. Nannirin, the orphanage matron. (She’s not in jail yet, but she should be.) There are stupid faces, like Ella, Bella, Shella, and Stella, my roommates. There are kind faces. It’s not like I’ve seen any, though. And then there are FACES, faces that don’t fit in. Faces like mine.

I never really have fit in, I guess. For eleven years, I’ve always been top of my class, horrid in P.E. And my parents! I left home when I was only a yearling, seeing as how my parents were arrested. Now, that’s just not normal! The even stranger part is that the reason that they live in San Quentin Jail is because they tried to kill someone. I’ll give you three tries to guess who and the first two don’t count. Yup, you guessed it. Me.
“Emily, get your big fat self out of here or you’ll be late for school and all of Iowa will hear your screams when I beat you!” I hurriedly turned off the computer as a screech echoed up the stairs.
What a crow, I thought miserably. Even though most people hate the CLICK, CLICK of a computer, I love it as much as I love my two orphan kittens, Pekoe and Cozmo. Ms. Nannirin doesn’t know about them, and never shall.
“Hurry up, or your face will be as red as your flaming red hair!”
I knew what she meant. I’ve felt the whack of a stick on my backside many a time, and it wasn’t going to happen again. What would you do? I hurried.
School was a terror, as always. After getting beat up in P.E. by Ella, Bella, Stella, and Shella, I got beat up by the teachers for being a know-it-all, which I’m not. I just know what they don’t. Have you ever heard the saying, “not the sharpest tool in the shed”? What about “not the brightest bulb in the house”? Or for those of you that don’t get what I’m trying to imply, plain not smart? That’s how all Iowa seems to me. Well, all but my cats, who I love dearly.
I did my homework early. I finished in class, ‘cause it was multiplying by 12 in 6th grade! Oh, so hard. Since I had time, I decided to type. It always made me feel better.
Dear Diary,
I can’t wait for Christmas, though I don’t know why. I usually spend all my time working at this time of year, making toys in the big man’s workshop. That’s not what I want to do, though. I want to visit the other world, to be a dancer, to make a difference. But, I’ve got to stay here; the boss won’t have it any other way. He’s “feeding the livestock” right now. I think this actually means “stuffing his big fat, red face”, ‘cause the animals are as skinny as a whisker, and he’s got a paunch the size of my bed. That’s not saying much, but still!
The big man seems to be fond of bells-their ringing, and the sweet tinkle of the windblown chimes. They hang all over the castle, singing in their harmonic voices, all over the North Pole. The winter winds get so miserable that the only way to survive is to hold onto a rope, tightly (very tightly), and follow the blinky red light of Rudolph’s snozz. I think Rudolph’s awesome, but no one else does.
I stopped, tears flowing like waterfalls out of emerald pools. Even though I knew Sarasponda Serene Selene II was probably imaginary, I felt the same way she did.

They think his nose is weird. Yeah, right. It’s only strange when big ol’ daddy Donner puts the fake one on. Rudolph then sounds like he has a cold. I mean, more than usual. We all have colds here, at the North Pole. Kris, the big man, has to leave soon. He needs to set up the sleigh, and travel into the world of kiddies to deliver my work. He’s famous in the human world, famous like I’d like to be. They all call him Santa Claus. Here, I’m Serasponda Serene Selene II, worker #107, maker of dolls. In the other world, I’m just one of Santa’s workers. I’m a nobody. It’s so unfair! Oh, well. Such is the life of an elf.
~Serasponda Serene Selene II
Sent to the editing story folder
Ella sauntered in like the big fat bully that she is. I looked at her, scorn barely hidden beneath my piercing gaze.

“Do my homework for me, Emily.”

“No!” I spat, scandalized. “Do it yourself!”

“You will do it, Emily. I’ll even help you fit in.” Interesting. No threats, only rewards.

“Tempting, but no. Do it yourself!”

After giving me a fierce wallop over the head, Ella stormed away. Typical.
Dinner was awful. At least I think it was. After I refused Ella’s demands, my dinner was taken away, and given to Ella. I decided to go work on my computer. Too late I remembered Miss Evilness’ (A.K.A. Ms. Nannirin’s) demands. Like I cared! I had my own laptop. Smiling softly, I flipped up the top and started to type.
Kawaii Kitty By Emily Alenski
I woke up in a strange place, with a chair and a pool. Palm trees were everywhere, and light shined on the ocean, only a whisker’s length away. The sun warmed my snowy pelt, letting it gleam like sunlight on snow. It looked like paradise. A mouse peeped out of the woods, plump and pristine like a meal should be. I stood up, feeling the muscles ripple under my pelt. I crouched, tense, and leaped. I fell like a stone. So much for graceful. Well, at least I caught the mouse! A sweet tittering filled the air. Was it truly my true love Pekoe? Yes! She floated from her nest of stars, stretching and purring melodiously the whole way down. What a creature! I stared with dumbstruck admiration at the heavenly apparition before me. Was it an apparition? She nuzzled me, her brown wave of downy fluff a perfect contrast with my snowstorm. Like a vanilla sundae with chocolate sauce on top, I reflected idly.
“Hi Cozmo!” Pekoe purred. “Fancy seeing you here! Welcome to Hawaii!”
Hawaii? Me? What had I done to deserve this honor? I mean, I’m not handsome. Pekoe says that I am slightly on the rounder side, but I know that she is under exaggerating. I am chubby, portly, overweight… whatever you want to call it. I, Cozmo the Magnificent, am fat…
There. Another finished draft. I decided to escape. I’ve spent eleven years in this dump, and I had to go. I set my timer to 11:30, when I could make my getaway. I could maybe live in a tree. Hey! I should write a story about it, I thought. Little House in the Big Tree! I fumbled around in the darkness, groping for my only treasured possession, my inheritance, if you will. Too late I noticed the tell-tale absence of snores, and saw the glow of a computer-my computer!-under Ella’s bedspread. They stole my computer! I was sick of being mistreated, so I stalked to the bed, and spoke coldly.
“Give me back my computer.”
“Make me, twerp!” she smiled. Evil, like normal.
“Okay, if I must.”
“Twerp, let’s fight!”
Oh, no! I had no chance of beating Ella in a fair fight! But what about an unfair one? She lunged at me, grinning broadly. I ran for it, pressed against the wall. Trapped!
Then, what if I…? Yes! She swiped. I feinted right. She cornered me. I stood there, waiting. She aimed. At the last second, I struck left, missing her by inches. She swiped, but couldn’t stop. She careened into the wall, which made a thump that shook the house.
“What are you doing to me? Forgive me! I’ll be your best friend! Don’t leave! Ms. Nannirin will kill me!” Ella implored, whimpered, wailed, and cajoled, all at the same time.
I decided that what she said had some truth in it, so I speedily wrote,

Ms. Nannirin,
I hate you. I always have. And now, I’ve given up trying to control my Irish temper. Don’t beat up Ella. I already did.
Katelynne McCann (You chose Emily. I didn’t.)
Then, I packed up all of my worldly possessions. They equaled:
1. a shirt 2. a skirt 3.a backpack 4. a pair of glasses 5. a pair of shoes 6. a pair of socks 7.a computer 8.two cats
Then, with a cat under each arm and a backpack over my shoulder, I jumped out of the window the way I had only dreamed about. Heart racing, I stepped into the forest, without a sidelong glance at my one and only home, if you can call it that. As the wind blew past my flaming hair, I think I heard a voice, faint as the touch of a butterfly’s wing.
“Good luck, Emily!”
I smiled. I wasn’t alone. I had my cats and my computer. So I was sort of isolated. But I was free. Now. Forever.
Sent to Katelynne’s About the Author Page