Sophie Foster's Diary [COMPLETE]

June 17, 2008

A/N: The dates are random. So is Sophie's age.

It was a very normal day. Near the last day of Kindergarten. I was drawing a picture of Ella, but failing miserably. Her trunk was as skinny as my pinkie, her eyes almost as large as her head, and —

A shadow passed over me.

I didn't have to look up to see that it was my Kindergarten teacher, who was perhaps the meanest Kindergarten teacher ever. Her name was Miss Apples.

Not married. Huh. No big surprise there.

"The principal has sended for you." she said. "In case you don't know what sende—"

"I do, actually," I replied in a know-it-all voice. "It means—"

"Just go," Mrs. Apples said, annoyed that her four-year-old student was as smart as her.

I sighed, dropping the bright blue crayon I had meant to colour Ella with, and pushed back my chair, purposely hitting Mrs. Apples in the stomach.

"Hey!" She cried.

I just smiled innocently and said, "Oops, didn't see you there," and turned to leave the class.

The office was on the opposite side of the school, and I was not pleased to have to make the trip there on my short little legs, much less alone.

Once inside, the secretary glanced at her and said, "In there," nodding to the principal's office.

I nervously opened the door, it creaking a little, then revealing the principal, my parents and little sister, Amy.

"Ah, Sophie. Have a seat," The principal, Mr. Black, said. "I was having a nice little chat with your parents. We decided that you're a bit more advanced than the average Kindergartener. So we'd like to move you up to Grade five. We think you'll be ready for this."

"Grade... five? Like, 10-year-old people? Very tall people that will maybe be mean? Mean like Mrs. Apples?" I asked.

"Euh... Yes, in a way," Mr. Black replied, embarrassed. Even my parents were trying not to laugh. "But give them a chance. Maybe you'll make some new friends!" He added, sounding way too over enthusiastic.

"But..." I stammered. "What if..."

"Sophie," my mother said, cradling Amy. Amy was still two. She was lucky. At least she wasn't being sent to  Grade 2 or something. "Listen, I know this is a surprise—"

"Of course it is! What are the chances of a four-year-old being moved to Grade 5? Practically none!" I said, hysteria creeping into my voice.

"Sophie," My father said in his warning tone. "We will talk about this—"

"No." I said firmly.

"Oh, Soybean, please," My mother pleaded, and I glared at her for using my nickname in public.

"I'm not going!" I screeched.

"Sophie!" Both my parents yelled at the same time.

"No!" I screamed repetitively.

Amy started crying from all the commotion, and poor Mr. Black seemed so lost.

My father grabbed my arm, hoisted me up and told Mr. Black, "Thank you for your time. We'll talk to her at home and call you once a decision has been made!"

"A-alright, thank you..." He replied, but we had already gone.