Is Merely"Frieda", a stern voice woke her out of her daydream.
"Frieda Martin!" Erm... in what class was she in now? Math?
"27", Frieda replied automatically.
"27 hours of sleep?!" Oh no, Ms. McNally was enjoying this moment.
"Well, if it's like that I'm sure you'll be able to answer questions 7, 8, and 9 on the board." Ick. Frieda walked up carefully feeling her bun bob on her head. She tugged her clothes into place and started to work on a problem she knew she would get wrong. She sighed. Why had she said 27? Was it the amount she had gathered at the last Save The Children meeting? No, it had been the number of Lenny's jersey. Lenny. She'd loved Lenny, he was the best friend she ever could have had. He'd always smelled faintly like peppermint. Peppermint tea had once been Frieda's favorite, but she couldn't stand it now. She was on a strictly chamomile diet. Once again she had to shudder as she thought of his hand disappearing under the water. Maybe if she had been a little taller, or stretched a little farther she could have saved him. As it was she hadn't. At the prospect of his cool hand never reaching her again she felt queasy. Then, in front of a class of 27 onlookers, Frieda Martin collapsed on the floor, her hands screeching down the chalkboard like the tortured song of a lark, knowing it had no chance of survival.