A/N: Okay ... this is a really random story I wrote when I was bored. It probably makes no sense. But I had nothing else to do.
So Christina told me to write about "a girl who wakes up. AND SHE'S A BANANA!"

So this is for Christina. :)

I woke up one morning feeling oddly stretched out and stiff. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't bend at the waist like I normally could. I groaned uncomfortably and forced myself to roll out of my bed.

Literally, roll.

I turned over once, twice, and then – BAM. I landed on the floor with a thud. Not being able to stand up, I feebly waved my arms and legs in the air, looking I'm sure like an overturned turtle. With some difficulty, I managed to grab the edge of my desk and pull myself up.

Now, I hadn't cleaned my room in ages. The carpet was full of dust and who knows what else. I felt my nose start to tingle. Groping around for a tissue, my eyes watering as if I were peeling onions, I suddenly let out a humongous sneeze.


Before I knew it, the force of my sneeze had me on the floor again. I moaned with frustration and annoyance and tried to grab my desk again. Two knocks came at the door.

"Christina? It's time to get up for school," my mother's voice floated in from the hallway.

"Help!" I called out in a pitiful tone. My mom walked in through the door. To my surprise, she was yellow. Her body was curved into a crescent shape, her head slightly greenish, and there was something long and stiff protruding from her scalp.

"Hurry up, Christina," Mom scolded, her shockingly normal human eyes glaring at me from the bright yellow skin. "There's no time to waste lying on the floor."


Since when was my mother a banana!? Not to mention an extraordinarily fat banana.

Mom grabbed my hand and pulled me up off my feet. Not wanting to appear stupid, I decided not to say anything about her beyond strange, fruity exterior. I simply packed up my school things and left as usual.

I stood on the corner kicking pebbles that lay on the pavement at my feet, impatiently waiting for Anthea so we could walk to school together like we always did.

"Hi, Christina!"

I looked up and almost fainted with surprise. Anthea's usual black hair with pink highlights, always randomly embellished with wildly coloured clips, slides, ribbons, and anything else that brutally violated our school dress code (though always looked amazing) was gone. Instead, there was an abundance of leafy greens. Tiny yellowish green seeds spotted her skin. If I did not recognize my friend's voice, I would definitely not have realized who it was.

"Uh … what …?!"

Anthea's warm brown eyes eyed me strangely. "Is there anything … wrong?"

"No, no, no," I stammered. "I don't … think so, anyway."

Was I going crazy? Why did everybody look like a fruit? I watched a round orange lead a tiny little orange across the street towards the neighborhood daycare. The bigger orange wore a tacky purple hat that clashed strangely with the dimpled carroty hue of her skin, and the smaller orange was protesting loudly in the high pitched voice of a toddler.

"I don't want to go to school, Ma … Trevor said there are big mean grapefruits who are gonna eat me!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lily, since when do you listen to Trevor?"

"But he said so, Ma …"

I watched the oranges argue as they walked until I felt a gentle tug on my arm.

"Come on, Christina, we'll be late!"

Anthea pulled me down the street, as if I was a dog and she was taking me out for a walk. We walked a couple blocks down until we reached the high school. As I walked through the school entrance, I was shocked to find an entire garden of fruits wandering around the campus. I watched in awe as a group of large apples began shamelessly bullying a few grapes who were playing cards. A pair of mangoes sauntered past, whispering and giggling madly. I wondered if I was the only one who looked like a human – because, as far as I knew, I had no similarity to a fruit whatsoever, appearance-wise.

I gasped as suddenly, a peach and a pear barreled towards Anthea and me. Anthea, however, broke into a smile.

"Hey, Mandy! Emily!" she yelled towards them.

I sighed, realizing it was only two other friends of ours. I began wondering how long everyone would look like fruits.

"Christinaaa! Antheaaa!" Emily shrieked. I suppressed a grin. Emily's voice was oddly fitting for a pear. The shape made her look strangely bottom heavy, which Emily normally was not. The smooth, pale green skin gave her the appearance of being slightly seasick, except for the flecks of darker green that spotted the surface. Had she been a human, she would have looked dreadful. For a pear, though, she was very pretty. Emily's long, silky hair was now a single stem of plain brown that stuck straight up. Looking at it, I had a strange urge to tie something to it, like a ribbon.

Mandy was round and a pleasant golden yellow in colour, with splashes of warm orange. She was covered in peach fuzz (big surprise), some of which was molting off. Like Emily, she also had a coffee coloured stalk on the top of her head, but hers was surrounded by bright bottle green leaves. Blue and green ribbons were tied around the stem and placed artistically among the foliage. Black-framed glasses were arranged on her face, though I'm not sure how they stayed on, since Mandy had no visible ears to speak of. She must have been able to hear, however, because she covered the sides of her head as Emily screamed.

"Would you shut up?" Mandy prodded Emily rather forcefully.

"Oww," Emily complained. She rubbed the spot where Mandy had jabbed her. "What'd you do that for?"

"Because you screamed in my ear," Mandy griped.

(Oh. So maybe she did have ears.)

I guess Anthea, with her amazing foresight, sensed an argument.

"Come on, you guys," she stepped between them. "Let's go to homeroom already."

We pushed our way through the crowd of vegetation towards our lockers. The halls seemed more crowded than they usually were; I guess it was because, being human sized fruits, the students were a lot more … overweight than they normally were.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to the bathroom," I told my friends. "Wait for me, okay?"

They nodded in agreement and I went across the hall to the restroom. I looked in the mirror and the biggest astonishment of the day hit me like a bolt from the blue. I was curved, yellow, and spotted with brown, just like my mother was! I was a lot skinnier though, which was a comfort – the Spring Dance was coming up in a few days, and I had been dieting for a week. All my friends had tried to convince me that I didn't need to, but I thought that there was no harm in losing a couple of pounds. I wasn't about to go anorexic. Although – now that I was a banana, I didn't know how much difference it would make.

After I got over the shock of being a fruit myself, I turned on the tap to wash my hands. As I ran the lukewarm water over my fingers, it occurred to me that it was a little weird that a banana could have hands. I decided it was no stranger than a person actually being a banana though, so I shook it off.

When I reached homeroom, I was slightly less surprised to see that my teacher was a long, thin, stringy stalk of celery.

"I guess not everyone is exactly a fruit, then," I mused aloud, unthinkingly. Some of my classmates cast me strange looks. I blushed and quickly grabbed a seat with Anthea, Emily, and Mandy.

The moment the second bell rang, the door to our homeroom flew open and a pineapple rushed in looking extremely flustered. It dashed in, plopped down in the chair beside me and breathed a sigh of relief. I knew before the pineapple said a word who it was.

"Almost late again, Melissa?" I poked my friend, teasing her.

"Shut up," she snapped playfully, still panting from the run. "The key word is 'almost.'"

I laughed, causing the teacher to glare daggers at me. It was extremely amusing to see such a familiar expression on a celery stick.

A few minutes later, the bell clanged loudly, signaling for us to go to the next class. Loud conversations and crashing of chairs ensued as everyone picked up their books and made their way to the next class, which happened to be Social Studies. The two mangoes I saw earlier, who I now recognized as Harriet and Frieda, continued their sparrow-like twittering as they left the classroom together. Melissa, Mandy, Emily, Anthea, and I gathered our books and quickly left for Room 245.

After an hour of listening to a small radish lecture us about Charlemagne and other greats of the Middle Ages, the bell rang once more and the five of us, pineapple, strawberry, peach, pear, and banana, scuttled away to Room 241 for English. Walking into each class and seeing my different teachers was no longer a cause for alarm; I was getting quite used to this world of vegetation. Seeing my sour old English teacher transformed into a lemon did make me laugh, though. My French teacher was a tomato – plain, shiny, and fat, with a springy green stem and leaves. She also had a small bruise on one side. After French, we watched the tall, thin cucumber that was Mr. Jubah pace the front of the Math room, instructing us on the proper way to calculate the reciprocal of sixty four.

Next block was Art. The framed painting of a bowl of fruit and bottle of wine that used to hang behind the teacher's desk was gone, to my immense amusement. The class spent the next forty five minutes gluing pictures from magazines to create wildly colourful collages that were supposed to reveal our personalities.

I found six brightly coloured magazine letters, cut them out, and pasted them down to form the word: "B-A-N-A-N-A." Since I've always been (ahem) vertically challenged, reaching the cabinets in the art studio was always hard. Now that I was a long, thin banana, I could reach them quite easily. Being a banana was a breeze!

At least, it was until a few days later.

To my irritation, I woke up to find that sections of my body were now brown and disgustingly mushy. Fruit flies began to flock around me, so I was constantly waving my arms around. Lily, the little orange who lived across the street, tugged on her mother's arm, pointing, and said, "Look, Mommy, that banana looks like a giraffe!" To which her mother, still wearing the ugly purple hat, angrily hushed her daughter and pulled her away. I knocked into a table during homeroom and hit one of the soft brown spots. It hurt a lot more than it normally would have and I was horribly frightened to find that there was a small hole in my waxy, once yellow skin.

For the rest of the day, I was knocked around so much, I was horribly sore at the end of school. People were beginning to avoid me because of the "BO" (banana odor, haha) that was created by the moldiness. People ran past me in the hallways, plugging their noses and screaming.

It was enough to make any self-respecting fruit weep like a little girl.

That night, I cried myself to sleep.

But the next morning, when I woke up, I felt different, not so mushy anymore. I felt crisp and clean, though I smelled a bit strange – like sour vinegar.

And when I looked in the mirror, I realized that I wasn't a banana anymore. I was a bit shorter, green, and distinctly ... bumpy.

A pickle!? I sighed. When was this ever going to end?