Imagine a tall blonde girl with gorgeous blue eyes, elegant features, an S.A.T. score of 1490, an average G.P.A. of 4.2, a girl that takes calculus for ‘fun’, who won 8 medals in Academic Decathlon, is senior editor of the campus newspaper and, last but not least, is a valedictorian of the senior class.

This unfortunately is not me. This is my best friend, Anne Hierholzer.

Thirteen years ago, I met a genius with a red crayon. On the first day of kindergarten I found my best friend coloring a picture, inside the lines, and her friendly offering of that coveted red crayon began a relationship that has stood through the ages.

Let me tell you a little about the history of our years at Fresno Christian. Back in the first grade, Anne and I decided to bury in the mud Micah Walker’s most prized possession- his Dallas Cowboy’s sweatshirt. All fun and games came to an end, however, when Micah threw a fit. Anne, being the smart one, ran for her life, which left me sitting in the principal’s office. I became one of the few first graders to ever receive a consequence.

As we learn in school, math is fair life is not.

Anne and I both loved sports when we were young. We were the only girls who played on the boys’ baseball team in 3rd grade. One Saturday morning, while our team was playing an innocent game of t-ball, a fly ball was hit. All the team scurried around with their mitts raised high, hoping to be the lucky one to catch it. The ball fell into the mitt of one of the boys caught the ball.

Wanting to catch the ball, and unafraid of catching icky boy cooties, I ran over to the boy who stole the perfect catch away from me and kindly tackled him on the ground until he gave up the ball. This is how I inherited the name, “man-hater”, which followed me into high school.

Let’s just say that when we read Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew this year, the boys named me the “shrew”. They even placed a bet on whether I would ever go out on a date, so Anne and I came up with a question to determine whether to even give the boys the time of day. The fatal question? “Who is your favorite composer?” There are a million possible answers, but I have to say that Dvorak of New World Symphony fame wins my vote.

In case you are wondering, everyone I have asked has failed.

After two years of high school, Anne decided to join band, which is basically like adopting a different way of life. I myself have played the piano for five years, the clarinet for six and picked up the trumpet for my last two years. Anne decided to play the clarinet. Although she only played for a year and a half, she was my sanity in band class. Having spitball fights and lying on the floor until the motion detector lights turned off was not exactly my idea of fun. Ahh, the tragic life of a teenage band geek. By the way, the florescent lights in the classrooms hum to a Bb concert pitch.

Anne and I decided that we wanted to be around all types of people during high school. I joined the soccer and track teams and also attempted to do winter guard flags, where I soon learned that I was not graceful or coordinated. Soon after that I took on the role of drum major, where I had fun leading the marching band towards poles. To my amazement they did not stop. Hey, it builds character.

Anne and I are a team, and we have been a team for 13 years. That’s what I love about our school- Fresno Christian is like a big family. We see the same people year after year and day after day. Where else can you go where the teachers ride skateboards, play basketball, shoot dart guns and jump on the tables singing “Beasts of England” at the top of their lungs.

High school is what you want it to be and I tried to choose to make the best of every day and every opportunity. Who ever thought that the six year old girl who had to be carried off the soccer field crying would someday be a four year varsity starter and captain of the runner-up Valley championship soccer team?

Who ever knew that the girl who wore wranglers and cowboy boots to grade school would be the homecoming princess of her senior class? That girl got to be me.