lorenzomariel
i'd rather ride in a chevy truck than a ferrari
give me a cheeseburger; i ain't eating no calamari
i'm just a small town girl
and that's all i'll ever be
i'm just a small town girl
hey, that's alright with me

Crunch. Lorenzo's bare feet snapped a long, moist twig as she dipped her toes in the lake. As soon as her foot touched the water, she jerked it back out. It was so hot, even the lake water was boiling. She sighed. There was nothing else to cool her off. The lake was her last resort. She wasn't a good-enough witch to create a gust of wind. Her fingers threaded through her hair as she pulled her reddish-brown locks into a ponytail. She paused, letting one hand drop to her pocket to search for something to hold up the ponytail. Drat. Nothing. In defeat, she let the ponytail fall. She walked back to her hot pink Converse sneakers. She slipped them on and tied the bright orange laces into a knot. She never went any further than that.

Lorenzo's stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten anything since lunchtime, and it was already nine p.m. She smoothed out her plaid sweater vest and adjusted her Power Rangers T-Shirt. Her white Bermudas clung to her thighs, wet. Her brown eyes darted around, pondering. Dinner was already finished and there was no way that she was gonna ask one of those poor, mistreated House Elves for a snack. Maybe someone would get her something at the pub. "Milkshake." The word barely escaped her lips, her throat was just so dry. She swallowed what was left of her saliva, licked her lips, and sped out of the forest. Branches scraped her tan arms and leaves flew around the fourteen-year-old witch as she kicked up the golden-and-green foliage. She finally burst out of the clump of trees and searched around excitedly for the small pub.

The pub finally came to Lorenzo's sight and she skipped towards the shack, making little pit-pat noises as her sneakers slapped against the recently-rained-on grass. She put her hands on the wooden door and slowly pushed it open, careful not to knock the fragile plank over. She wove through the crowd, her knobby knees shaking as she tried not to go kaput with the flying wizards' spells catapulting through the air. She finally got pushed by the bar. "Milkshake, please," she gasped, forking over some money. A chocolate milkshake was pushed into her hands and she turned back to the dark abyss which was known as the crowd. It was impossible to find a table... until an empty table was found. Oh drat. It was occupied. But there was no where else. She pursed her lips and shyly forced herself over to the table. "Excuse me, can I sit here?" she asked timidly to the girl who sat at the table. "There's no where else and-" She slightly leaned closer. "You're from Malcour, too, right?" she asked, wanting to know who the girl was before handing over her name.