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"Sure, it bothers me, being knee-high to a flea. But there isn't anything I can do about it. When I realized I was going to have to spend my life in this undersized skin, I just decided to make the best of it and concentrate on being myself."
"You seem to get along great," I admitted. "But what about me? No boy wants to date a girl taller than he is."
"The trouble with you is you're afraid to be yourself. You're smart. And you could be pretty. In fact, you might be more than pretty."
I felt myself turning red.
"I am getting a great idea," said carlos, and right then he suggested being my manager.
I wasn't sure. "W-e-ll—"
"Look," He almost fell off the steps in his eagerness, "Prize fighters have managers. And movie stars. Besides, what have you got to lose?"
I shrugged. "OK."
Soon after that, he had my new life planned. I was to let my hair grow, wear a fitted sweater and neat skirt, and lift my head and say "Hi" to everyone. I was to volunteer to work on the school paper and go out for dramatics.
"Dramatics! " I protested. "I can' t act. And anyway, they don't have parts for giants."
