The Girl in the Yellow Dress, or the Ragamuffin Dreamer

(Angela, I'll keep this one going if you want, call me so we can talk about it, but this would be one where the girl would die in the end from a school shooting. I like the girl, but I have several different other pages of notes that take her and the story all over the place. Thoughts?)

The Girl in the Yellow Dress, or the Ragamuffin Dreamer

Have you ever woken up from a really weird dream and not known where you were? With funny sweat beads making your sheets feel gross and eyes that can’t see in the dark? And a strange sense of not knowing where you are? That’s kind of how it felt to walk into the Stravinsky household—constant chaos and confusion from lots of children and animals running around.

Serena Stravinsky was a short girl with big glasses, freckles, pointy ears, and crooked teeth that made it so she couldn’t bite down on an apple. She had a drawer full of what her mother called respectable clothing, but almost always wore her yellow dress with grass stains in the back. Her mother called it a rag, but she called it a play dress, and although she would change obediently when they drove to the library or the store, she was always back inside the dress when she got home.

She was the one kid who didn’t make a lot of sense to most of the other kids. Which didn’t bother Serena, but which worried her mother when her mother had time to worry.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” the teacher wrote on the board. All the kids raised their hands and talked about being doctors or construction managers or dancers or presidents of big companies.

“I’m going to be so rich that I don’t have to ever go into work unless I want to.”

“I’m going to be the world’s greatest dancer.”

Serena listened as the names went around the room, unsure why those sounded like fun.

“And you Serena? What will you be when you grow up?”

Serena hesitated, “I don’t know. But I want to reach the highest branch on my tree at home.”

“That’s very nice Serena, but I mean what do you want to do for a profession?”

Serena knew the teacher wouldn’t like the answer, because her mom didn’t ever either. “I want to find colorful rocks.”

The room bust into laughter until it withered under the teacher’s glare. “Oh a geologist! That’s wonderful!.”

Serena had no idea what she was talking about, but it seemed like a good answer so she nodded. “Yeah, one of those.” The teacher went on to Peter, to Serena’s relief.

“Psst, stupid, that’s a really dumb idea. Who wants to look for rocks?”