Of all three grades in middle schools, 6th graders have to be the best. Some might think they're immature and full of themselves, but they have to understand that they were like that at one point or another. They are new to middle school, so of course they'll be a little crazy. They are also usually, on average, beginning to journey from boy to man, girl to woman. They have it hard enough as it is, without the seventh graders walking and talking as if they are superior to them just because they are no longer in the sixth grade, and that they have "expierence", and the eighth graders who should be minding their own little business, instead of telling sixth and seventh graders how cool and grown up they are in between kisses with some random guy/girl.
But sixth graders still have their childlike innocence, even if they are cracking jokes about genatilia. The upperclassman just ruin the fun for them.
The eighth grade girl carefully applied her mascara in the mirror, looking to make sure her peers didn't pass by. They were all convinced her eyelashes were natural.
She turned and noticed a little 6th grader girl, about a foot shorter than her, donning clothes that were simular to hers. But for little kids.
She laughed inside, mocking the girl's wanna-be looks in her head, until she noticed her very long lashes. They were like feather dusters. They were thick and dark, too, better than any mascara could provide.
She screamed, out loud. She hurled her inky mascara bottle at the poor girl, and it splattered all over her face. She gasped and took a step back, looked at the eighth grade girl in horror, than ran, as fast as she could, to the nearest water fountain. The girl only watched, feeling both anger and regret. She picked up her mascara, then threw it in the trash.
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