"Jennie! Jennie! Miss Jennie O'Donovan, wake up!"
The girl sat up and groaned, pulling her bland brown hair from her face with her short brown fingernails. She looked around and groaned. "Sorry, Coach," she grumbled. "Won't 'appen again, I promise."
Several of Jennie's classmates laughed at her. She'd fallen asleep in summer school health class again. The Coach was not pleased.
"You know the rules," he said, looking stern. "All I ask for you is to stay awake during my class, O'Donovan. I don't even ask for you to pay attention. Look, if I've told you once, then I've told you a million times; if you want to sleep in my class, then just ask for a pass to the clinic. But since you've ignored me, once again, you'll have to stand for the rest of the class."
Jennie groaned again. "But--"
"No excuses. Up you go, O'Donovan," Coach said. "If you want to sleep in my class, you'll sleep standing up. And if you were in my class during the school year, then you'd get a detention."
Jennie stood up and stretched, yawning. "But thank God I'm not."
Coach went on with his class, and Jennie stood quietly, commenting on his teaching style every now and then.
Jennie was nowhere near the angel she used to be when she was little. America had been a bad influence on her; she'd turned into a rebel. And she hadn't been in touch with Addy, Sherie, or even Genivieve since she was nine years old. She had new friends, new interests, and a new style. The American Jennie was a newer, badder Jennie.
The bell rang soon, and Jennie trudged with the rest of the class out of the classroom. She walked slowly down the hallway, then shuffled outside into the warm summer sunlight.