Shandy

When she was a baby, something very bad happened to Shandy. Shandy has a phenomenal memory but she doesn't remember the very bad thing. And, anyway, little girls are sugar and spice and all things nice. But, deep down where little girls aren't always sugar and spice and all things nice something remembers. They called her Ragamuffin at school, sometimes Rags. She didn't mind too much; at least those words didn't rhyme with lasted or itch or now. Anyway, she looked like one with her one dress and untidy hair, her half-clean face and hands. Even when she finally got a second dress and pair of shoes and made her face red from scrubbing, she still looked like a ragamuffin. The kids knew it deep down and so did Shandy. Deep down where she was nobody's idea of something sugar and spice and all things nice. Still, little girls grow up. Sometimes, almost against their will, they fall love. Love can redeem people. Can't it Or, as something deep down insists, does love make liars of us all