Anna Growing Up (tent.)
an excerpt

“Anna!” called a distant voice.

Boy I hate that name.

A small girl with blonde pigtails rolled her eyes and stood. She hated to leave the clear shallow pond. Especially that it was filled with such interesting things like perch minnows and bull frogs. She thought she might have seen a newt before she was interrupted. Bending down again the girl sighed when she heard her name once more.

She grabbed her stockings and shoes from where they were perched on a large rock overlooking the water’s edge and ran towards the schoolhouse. As she traversed the field, she hopped and stumbled trying to replace the footwear over her bare toes. Anna never understood the need when you could feel the cool, damp grass between your toes and the warmth of sun dried bare dirt under the soles of your feet. But Miss Branfeld was firm on the notion of shoes.