Written by Abby 

It was a boiling summer day, so hot that Grammie's plastic thermometer from the 43^rd Street Dollar Store had broken, due to the intense sweltering heat. I patiently waited in line, bouncing off the steamy pavement, cluttered with rubbish from the late night crowd. I screamed vigorously as Kiki's home run ball floated through the sky with a mind of its own, somewhat like me. The gang and I were finishing up an intense game of baseball, and as the hours passed, players retired from exhaustion.

Devin Taylor and I wandered back to our apartments. I was undeniably, beyond doubt, looking forward to an ice cold shower. The water would drill into my back like pellets of hail.

"That's too bad about the school uniforms, huh?" Devin blew a huge bubble which I was surprised didn't melt in his sweltering mouth.

"Huh?" My head spun in his direction, my eyes wide with astonishment.

"You know, little dresses and suits with hair ribbons and ties. It's kind of like that Catholic school in the suburbs. Our school's getting them!" I nearly fainted as the traitorous words blabbed out of his mouth. I glared at him, infuriated and sprinted up the metal staircase to my apartment, staring at the ground below me through the holes in the steps.

"Are you sure?" I hollered below me.

"Believe it or not," Devin sighed. I trudged inside our brick apartment, also known as a luxurious (even that was exaggerating) "room for rent." The place was falling apart, but Jessie kept it in a somewhat livable condition, for the most part.

"Is that you Karissa?" My mother glanced over her shoulder as she stirred a copper pot of a hideous concoction. I shouted my typical and accustomed response and tumbled onto our chair by the phone.

"I gotta call some friends about something, okay? Our school's getting uniforms!" I shouted, doubting that she cared as she tossed some oregano leaves and sprinkled some paprika into the mixture.

And so I called the gang, informing them about the school uniforms. We decided to meet the next day and make posters. We were embarking on a daring and dangerous mission...strike on the first day of school.

As I followed my routine the next morning, I thumbed through the small stack of mail, checking for any crucial information. A couple of catalogs, a few bills, and a letter to my parents from the school.

"It must be about school uniforms!" I thought, sheer panic running through my body. I then called the gang for the second time, explaining the letters of horror. I also told them to burn the letter immediately, without even opening it.

I burned mine in a small fire in our fireplace. My eyes stared at it as it crumbled from the heat, and blacken—it was gone.

"Beep, beep, beep, beep..." My faithful and aged alarm clock annoyingly sounded, signaling a new day, bright and shining. I tossed on some clothes--my ragged Yankee's T-shirt, and a dirty pair of hand-me-down basketball shorts. I thrust a comb through my hair so that the thick brown snarls bunched at the bottom in a hideous fashion, but I didn't care.

I shoved some Yucky Charms in my mouth, and stormed out the rickety screen door with my poster under one arm.

Quincy Middle School was a terrible place. Not one exterior wall was graffiti-less, and precisely 87 percent of the toilets wouldn't flush. As we courageously gathered in front of the vandalized school, we asked one another how to begin going on strike. We decided to randomly begin shouting.

We shouted, all right. I made up a dance to a chant, and soon crowds gathered up, trying to get our attention, holding little pieces of paper—letters—that looked as though they were from the school, the enormous insignia popping off of the paper.

I soon felt rather popular, until a giant hand landed on my shoulder. I turned around but to see Mr. Quincy, his stern eyes drilling into my sunburned forehead.

"What are you screaming about young lady?"

"I think that it's unfair to make children do such a thing. I mean, look at me! I've worked hard to earn this reputation of mine!" I bellowed into his face.

"Karissa, I suspect that you believe school uniforms are bound to come. Maybe you didn't receive that note that explained this rumor...well, um--" His moustache quivered as he stumbled over the jumble of words.

"No, Mr. Quincy! I mean, yes, I got the note, but I was...quite confused." I then rushed off, relieved, to room 232 for math. Miss Hamilton handed me a worksheet, which I immediately began, filling in the blanks. The eyes of students drilled into me. Finally, a voice behind me broke the silence and whispered, "Did you hear that Karissa listened to the rumor about school uniforms? I guess she doesn’t read the mail!" A cluster of whispers floated around the room, until the latest gossip was about me. I blushed every time that I heard my name, which was frequently.

Then it occurred to me—I was the new rumor. Just as the school uniforms went around, I would too. It would fade soon, and then, who knows?