Cara walked over to the gum infested desk with Mr. Clafe. She took one look at her tidy, spotless, old desk and slumped into her new one. Cara never new when to stop talking or when the assignments were due. She had some trouble with remembering. That habit came from 267 years ago when her foremother had amnesia. The forgetful "vibe" ran in her blood. Cara was in trouble, big trouble. She had forgotten eighteen assignments in language arts alone. Along with missing work, talking was always a major problem. That was why Cara found herself sitting in the worst desk available.
What is your favorite part?
