My parents were both short and thus I was short. It held a certain unspoken snigger-worthy trait, that shortness, dogging me everywhere I went. My mother was short but she had been tall for her age when she was twelve, and somehow with it (along with her adolescent prettiness) came an extrovert-esque personality and truckloads of charisma poured into her short and tall frame.


I had always been short, short in general, short for my age, puny and tiny and extremely unimpressive. Social, somewhat, but still unimpressive.


You see, my mother had been made assistant Head Prefect when she was twelve. I felt obliged to fill those large footsteps she left behind, and naturally the best way was to first become a prefect - preferably at the age of nine, the age at which prefects were chosen.


Thus it came to me as a particular blow when no, I was kindly refused, because I was too short and people wouldn't be scared of me. The teacher Mrs. Seow was fashioned by the 60s, where tall equalled power and short was tantamount to shy.


At that time though I was modest, I had nary an empty mouth or mind and was extremely chirpy. It was rather offensive, but I merely sat back down in my seat (which was located at the front of the classroom) and sulked.


The day she gave out the prefect application forms to those selected was drear. I remember sitting alert, Othello's replica and staring enviously.


The classroom was noisy with anticipation and some of the tallest and most intelligent students went to the front one by one to receive their precious slips of paper. It was noisy, truly, so noisy I had to strain to hear the onslaught of names announced mechanically.


Then, it must have been my ears-


"Stacy."


Stacy stacy stacy. Oh god. Surely not- surely my ears were- surely, I hoped not! Dizzied delight spun in my steps as I dashed up to receive my form. Stacy! Oh yes, that's my name, you got it right - Stacy! Mrs. Seow barely looked at me as I clutched the form, breathless. Stacy.


I went back to my seat, grinning stupidly, to my classmate Saranya's inquisition. "I thought you weren't selected? How come you got the form? Why..."


"I dunno," I halted her tirade, "But I heard my name called... so I just went up."


Initial euphoria prolonged, and yet: "How come I have one less form? I thought I printed the exact number." Mrs. Seow sounded doubtful but instead she asked the monitor -it was either Jacqueline or Sebastian- to maintain order, which of course they did not do, and left the classroom; presumably to get that one last form.


Doubts assailed me shocked me gripped me. Had I truly heard my name? There was another girl- Jessie, her name sounded like mine and oh god, had I heard wrongly? Jessie Stacy Jessie Stacy! Sweet lord, surely not, but I wanted the prefect role so badly, perhaps I could keep the form and receive my tie and duties and no one would know! I would carry out my duties so well that even if they discovered my shameful act, I would be pardoned anyway.


Few people questioned me other than Saranya, oddly enough. I glanced wistfully at the form, the door- oh, Mrs. Seow was back. She handed the photocopied form to an extremely tall boy - Amos, I suppose- and sat back down at her seat, instructing us to take out our Maths textbooks.


A guilty dilemma! For a child who had just turned eight, it was a rather difficult -maybe even noble- decision. I wouldn't keep the form, I'd return it to her and confess my mistake, and though my lifelong dream would be shattered at least I'd be honest.


And thus later on, while the rest of the class was immersed in Maths exercises, I timidly went to her desk and stuttered, reluctantly placing the form onto the table. "Mrs. Seow, er, you know the prefect forms, um, just now when you gave them out- just now when you gave out the prefect forms I thought I heard my name wrongly so I accidentally took a form and..." The last part was uttered in nervous rapidity.



I had to repeat myself more than once, each time gaining more confidence and more disappointment. Finally she stared hard at me, and I expected a tongue-lashing, but no. These painted lips moved slowly, and I was nearly breathless by the end of her sentence.


"Do you want to be a prefect?" Said she, and I thought, surely I had a chance, oh yes oh yes oh yes!


"Y-yes," I admitted, a tad ashamed, and then she said:


"Then okay, you can be one.*"


Joy, oh sweet Joy, that was the best day of my life.


And then I resumed my seat at the front of the class.


-


*I can't remember her exact words but I do know that they made me very, very happy. :3
And yes, this is a true story, whahaha.

I proved to be a too-strict prefect, anyway. Much too efficient, mmhm. Made a couple of enemies and terrified the p1s. I kind of regret it. I guess I wanted to prove myself too much.


Even if i did weave myself into the favour of both the discipline mistresses, (Mrs Goh and Miss Ong) I still think i could've been so much better as a prefect. oh, well.


I know my prose in this case is rather lousy, you know, cos I forgot to link the parent thing back... oh nevermind. Just felt like it.


And that's how i became a prefect by accident. it isn't really that exaggerated. XD