Rachel had one cheek pressed to the cool desk after a hot day.

"And that is how you multiply fractions. Simple." The teacher put down her pointer and looked around. "Now you can start your papers. Begin."

Amy Lang's pencil started flying across her paper, but Rachel's pencils lay still.

The teacher noticed Rachel putting her head down and walked over.

"Rachel Tran, come here." Rachel reluctantly walked over to the teacher, who was considerably old.

"I notice that you have been falling behind." The teacher rifled through a sheaf of papers and found the paper for Tran, Rachel. "Here it is." She pulled it out and straightened it. "February report." She looked pointedly at Rachel over her glasses and read: "Rachel Tran: Shows little progress in her studies. Is a C average student. Shows no respect for others." Mrs. Meillery shoved the paper back in the pile and put it carefully into the drawer. "That's not good, is it?"

Rachel was looking out the tall and wide glass window on the west wall. She longed to be practicing hopscotch with the first graders, anything out of this situation.

"Rachel? Are you listening?" asked Mrs. Meillery.

"Yes," said Rachel vaguely.

"Is that a good report?"

"No."

"Exactly. Please show at least a bit of ambition in your studies." Mrs. Meillery waved her off. "You may go."

Rachel picked up her pencil and worked slowly, and she was still on problem three when it was time for lunch.

Rachel's mother spent Wednesdays shopping, so on Wednesdays Rachel was expected to make her own lunch or buy it. Rachel thought jealously of Jeni, who got to eat banquets in the Great Hall for every meal. They had lived in England before coming to America, so Jeni was Apparated home by a teacher every single year.

Today's lunch was chicken burgers. Rachel half-heartedly nibbled her lunch and stared around.

It was the beginning of March. Lots of kids were talking to their best friends, but Rachel was a loner. She had a bad reputation because she mostly wore black and she didn't look appealing to kids, except for her unusual cyan eyes, green streaks, and was freaking tall. Most girls thought she was beautiful, but Rachel didn't wear clothes to match. She didn't care what colors she wore. She just didn't want to be naked. She wore her older brother's old clothes. Max was in a Muggle college right now. He went to Stanford.

It was time for report cards at the end of March, and Rachel was in deep trouble.

"Eight straight C's again!" her mother was shouting, in a voice that was sure to carry to Wisconsin. "Rachel Tran! What am I going to do with you?!"

"I don't know," said Rachel softly.

"I'll tell you. I'll take away your cell phone. That'll…"

"No!" shouted Rachel before her mother could continue. "I need that!"

"Too bad. This is a consequence." Rachel's mother held out a hand. "Hand it over."

Rachel handed over the phone miserably.

"For three months." Rachel's mother pocketed the phone and stormed from the room, fuming.

Rachel felt exactly the same way as her mother, emotionally. As in, she was also mad and fuming. Not as in the same thoughts. Why was her mother treating her so unfairly? Why was she even going to school? What was the purpose of life? To have kids? Why should she live when she might be a Muggle?

The thoughts swam around her head as she wished that she could paint her room black or listen to Miley Cyrus or do something else cool, just as long as she could get away from her wretched mother, who seemed just like her teacher. Her teacher had a terrible temper, and so did her so-called mother. It just wasn't fair. Why did she have to do something she didn't want to do?

In the distance, she heard an electric guitar playing loudly. "Probably Rodrick's band," thought Rachel miserably. She still liked Rodrick, even though he didn't know Rachel existed.

Rachel thought about all of this when someone knocked at her bedroom door.

"What?!" asked Rachel irritably.

"It's me…" a male voice called.

"Who?" demanded Rachel, who was beginning to become seriously mad at the person who was standing at her door.

"Here's a hint. I…"

"JUST FREAKIN' TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!"

"It's me, Max."

Rachel was still mad. The coming of Max didn't change her feelings one bit.

"Don't come in."

Max came in anyway.

"I told you not…"

"Freakin' shut up…" Max interrupted, imitating Rachel's voice in a stupid way under his breath.

"What did you say?!" Rachel demanded angrily, raising her pillow threatingly.

Rachel chased Max around her room all afternoon.