The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl

by Stacy McAnulty

I love any formula that requires pi.

If I ever got a tattoo, it would be π.

I can be normal smart. It’s only middle school. This is about survival.

I consider accidentally falling out of the car, but that would probably hurt.

This should feel like a victory. I’ve confronted the enemy. It doesn’t.

Pi stares at me with his head tilted. It’s not cute and curious; it’s the cancer.

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