Letter 1

Address:

Grandma Dabren

4945

Clear brook road

Sarasota, Florida

62464

Return Address:

Viola Rose Dabren

6034

Pinewood drive

Louisville, Kentucky

Dear Grandma,

This is Viola. Ever since we moved away from Florida to Kentucky I've been missing you so I thought we might write letters to keep in touch. Write back if you want to continue to communicate through these letters! Miss you!

Love, Viola

Chapter 1

History class was quite possibly Viola's least favorite time of the school day. Every day at 9:30 sixty students came into Room 39. At the end of the hour-long period, few would still be awake. Viola was a good student with the majority of her report cards displaying As. Not in Mr. Bartley's class. To get anything better than a failing grade in his class was better than getting a 100% in another. Currently, she was scraping by with a C but if she didn't stay awake and take notes during this class's lecture she would fail the upcoming test. Well aware of this, Viola pulled out a notebook and poised her pen over the lined paper. As Mr, Bartley's voice began introducing today's topic, westward expansion, she wrote bullet points on her paper. She knew she would lose points later for the lack of detail but you can't win all battles. Right?

Well, the battle she was currently fighting didn't seem to be going much better than the one she gave up. The moment he started talking she felt her eyes begin to glaze over. To keep herself awake she focused on Mr. Bartley's face.

He never wrote anything on the board, preferring to sit at his desk and look directly at the class while he talked. This was a habit Viola hated because it didn't give you anything to focus on except his droning voice. He watched the half-asleep class through spectacles as he spoke. A stereotypical professor to the last, he always wore a suit and carried his briefcase everywhere.

His fingers were steepled over the spotless mahogany of his desk. As Voila turned back to her notes she began to nod off. 'Westward expansion started in 1803 caused by...'

Her head jerked up. The bell continued ringing as everyone else who had fallen asleep collected their things. She sighed. Again! She thought. Her parents were going to kill her! If they cared enough to check her report card. If Sabrina and Julius Dabren were anything there were not good parents. Mr. Dabren was seldom in Kentucky and constantly on business trips promoting Dabren Enterprises. Her mother was fairly self-absorbed and if she wasn't modeling on the runway she was shopping or trying to force makeup and clothes on her uninterested daughter. They didn't necessarily ignore her but they did regularly overlook her. Viola didn't mind much. Her grandfather was similar.

Viola's dad acquired much of his wealth from his father, Viola's grandfather. Of course, he was on the road to considerably expanding that wealth through Dabren industries, the company he created. For many years he had poured huge amounts of money and time into the shipping enterprise and was finally turning a profit. Viola's grandfather had made several awkward attempts to connect with her. The most recent one occurred last year. He had approached her and proposed that she and he go shopping at a designer store. Viola had simply looked up from her book and shaken her head. She was uninterested in the world of fashion and trends and preferred to invest her energy in books and literary works.

Viola was jostled out of her thoughts by a passing classmate.

"Sorry" the boy muttered over his shoulder as he pushed into the hallway. She shrugged on her backpack and made for Science class

Mr. Nicholls was not amused when Viola came rushing into Science three minutes late. He was stalking up and down the aisles lecturing about chemical substances and phosphate groups when his eyes alighted on Viola trying to appear casual as she made her way to her seat. Within seconds he was looming over her like a hawk and rabbit.

"Why are you late for my class?" Viola stared up at him. She had heard stories and rumors about what the teacher would do to students who were late. Once a boy went to have a talk in the hall with him. He withdrew from Oakwood Middle School the next day.

"This merits a talk with the principal Ms. Viola," he said, pronouncing my name like the instrument. I quietly corrected him "It's pronounced Vy-ola" he continued speaking and mispronouncing my name without barely a glance in my direction.

"Let this serve as a warning to all those mischief-makers out there. There will be no tolerance for ludicrous acts in this classroom and all offenses will be met with swift and harsh retaliation." He talked like he was a prison guard and the class was his inmates. The whole class nodded solemnly and Mr. Nicholls gestured for her to follow him into the hall. I braced for a long talk but that was evidently not what he had in mind. He placed a firm hand on each of Viola's shoulders and steered me through the maze-like halls. After a few turns, she began to suspect and Viola knew for certain once he stopped in front of a wood door. THE wood door. He was taking her to the principal's office.

She grasped the door handle surprised at the amount of force it took to open the wooden door. The door opened into a room that smelled of new paint and furniture polish. An identical door leading off out of the room sported a brass plaque that read Principal Rivas. Mr. Nicholls nodded to the receptionist and left her in the sitting room where she sank into one of the plush chairs. Soon the principal came and directed her into a chair across from her desk.

"What is the problem today Miss..."

"Viola"

Mr. Nicholls jumped in before she could explain. "This young lady was three minutes late to my class today and missed part of a very important lecture."

The principal sighed. "You know we can't suspend kids for tardiness. The conversation continued with technicalities and school rules being listed off. Surprisingly, Principal Rivas actually seemed to be on her side. Or on the opposite of Mr. Nicholls anyway. Finally,

"I'm sorry. We can't suspend kids for tardiness. That is my final answer." The principal then exited the room leaving a very uncomfortable silence. Mr. Nicolles had hated Viola for no apparent reason since she had set foot in the school. But she had never known the hatred stretched so far.

"Well then," he said quietly. "I suppose I will just have to do it myself," He said it so dramatically that I was unsure about what he meant. Then he opened my profile on his computer and dialed my mother's number on his phone. The dial tone droned for ten seconds before she picked up.

"Hello? Model Sabrina Dabren here. Is this the spokesperson for the fashion deal? I would like a short blue mini dress, two pairs of -"

"Hello, Ms. Dabren. This is your daughter's school. This morning she committed two serious offenses. She was both tardy to my class and spoke back to me when punished."

Viola rolled her eyes. Seriously? Three minutes late and she corrected him for mispronouncing her name. That hardly merited a call home or fit his description of her "Serious offenses". Luckily for her, Sabrina Dabren was not happy that it was not her fashion deal contact on the line.

"I'll talk to her at home. I'm busy right now" A beep that signaled the call's end resounded before Mr. Nicholls had time to respond. For one of the first times ever Viola was glad that her parents were constantly busy. Mr. Nicholls glared at her while she stared back innocently. She still didn't understand his apparent hate for her.

"You won this time." He said spitting the words out through gritted teeth. "But I won't forget this" His tone was laced with fury and resentment. Thoroughly spooked, she hurried out of the principal's office. She barely had time to hear him call that she was to go home before she was racing through the halls her backpack half sling over her shoulder. It wasn't just the words that had been terrifying. It was his face. It had been twisted with rage and his eyes glowed with malice. She was fairly certain that no teacher should talk that way to a student. It was almost like he had a score to settle with her. A score she had no memory of.

Her pace didn't slow until she was several blocks away from the school. She had never experienced such open confrontation from an adult before. Viola was aware that she should tell someone about the strange interaction but who was there to talk to? She would have known exactly who to go to before... She shook her head. Before she could talk to anyone she needed to get home. She always kept some money in her backpack for the bus in case she ever got stranded downtown. Get home. She thought, then you can figure everything out.