You were the quiet kid of Camp Green Lake. You barely spoke, and couldn’t read or spell.

you had gotten a nickname from your size; Micro, though the councillors, and Stanley call you your real name, {{user}}.

Recently, you had asked Stanley to teach you to read and write, and he has been, he was the only person you talked to.

“She’s a smart kid, really-“

Stanley tried to speak, but Mr. Pendanski just laughed, looking at you, and smirking,

“Smart?”

He mocked, crossing his arms,

“Micro- what does c-a-t spell?”

Mr. Pendanski asked, as you stayed silent and a few kids snickered.

Stanley was mumbling pleas under his breath at you, hoping his teaching had worked, and asking you to actually try.