Narrator - YA fiction
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Teen (13-17)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Elizabeth Godly. Did you see her? Who could it be? A new student, a spectacular blonde from California or from Back East, where many of us came from? Or one of those summer makeovers? Someone who leaves in June looking like a little girl and returns in September as a full bodied woman, a 10 week miracle And then in Earth Science, I heard a name. Star Girl. I turned to the senior, slouching behind me. Star Girl, I said, What kind of name is that? That's it. Star girl Carraway. She said it in home room. Star girl. Yeah, And then I saw her at lunch. She wore an off white dress so long it covered her shoes. It had ruffles around the neck and cuffs and looked like it could have been her great grandmother's wedding gown. Her hair was the color of sand. It fell to her shoulders. Something was strapped across her back, but it wasn't a book bag. At first I thought it was a miniature guitar. I found out later it was a ukulele. She did not carry a lunch tray. She did carry a large canvas bag with a life sized sunflower painted on it. The lunch room was dead silent as she walked by. She stopped at an empty table, laid down her bag, slung the instruments, draft over her chair and sat down. She pulled a sandwich from the bag and started to eat. Half the lend room kept staring. Half started buzzing. Kevin was grinning. What did I tell you? I nodded. She's in the 10th grade, he said. I hear she's been homeschooled till now. Maybe that explains it. I said. Her back was to it, so I couldn't see her face. No one sat with her, but at the tables next to hers, kids were cramming, too, to a seat she didn't seem to notice. She seemed marooned in a sea of staring, buzzing faces. Kevin was grinning again. You thinking what I'm thinking? He said. I grinned back. I nodded. Hot seat hot seat was are in school TV show. We started it. The year before I was producer director. Kevin was on camera host. Each month, he interviewed a student. So far, most of them had been honor student types, athletes, model citizens, noteworthy in the usual ways, but not especially interesting. Suddenly, Kevin's eyes boggled the girl was picking up her ukulele, and now she was strumming it. And now she was singing, strumming away, bobbing her head and shoulders, singing, I'm looking over a four leaf clover that I overlooked before stone silence all around. Then came the sound of a single person clapping. I looked. It was the lunch line cashier, and now the girl was standing, slinging her bag over one shoulder and marching among the tables, strumming and singing and strutting and twirling heads. Swung, eyes followed. Her mouths hung open. Disbelief. When she came by our table, I got my first good look at her face. She wasn't gorgeous, wasn't ugly. A Sprinkle of freckles crossed the bridge of her nose. Mostly, she looked like 100 other girls in school, except for two things. She wore no makeup, and her eyes were the biggest I had ever seen. Like a deer's eyes caught in headlights, she twirled as she went past her flaring skirt, brushing my pant leg. And then she marched out of the lunch room. From among the tables came three slow collapse. Someone whistled. Someone yelped. Kevin and I gawked at each other. Kevin held up his hands and framed a marquee in the air hotsy human attraction, Stargher. I slapped the table. Yes,