As Madame Keravona's perfume wafted past my desk my mind drifted from conjugating French verbs. To think...I had the audacity to wear my Little Red Riding Hood poncho in public, made in my 7th grade sewing class strutting out of school not realizing that the 7th grade brain was not ready to accept the redness, the roundness, the pom-pomed perimeter of my poncho. I ran down the street hoping no one would notice the red-faced tear-stained poncho-girl. And all the while the pubescent boys pointing and laughing.
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