Trixie slid into her seat as the bell signaling the beginning of class rang. She hated English Comp and arrived as late as she possibly could. She looked up as the teacher, Miss Spiva, jabbed her finger on he chalkboard.

"Envy," Miss Spiva announced to the class, pointing to the word. "You must write a 100-word composition on envy. You have 10 minutes."

Trixie rolled her eyes and muttered to herself, "Great! What do I know about that?" The classroom was filled with the hum of pencils scratching on notebook paper as the students got to work. As the clock ticked away, Trixie looked around at her fellow classmates, wishing she could produce a composition as easily as they could. Trixie fiddled with her pencil as she stared out the window. Ten minutes later, all Trixie had to show for her efforts was her name scrawled across the top of her paper. As she reluctantly turned in her paper to Miss Spiva, Trixie mentally kicked herself for not being able to come up with even a single sentence. Sighing, Trixie returned to her seat, thinking to herself, "Sometimes, I really wish I could be more like Mart."