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Roberta Olsen Major
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Pep squad drop-out.

Barbara’s giving the high school speech team a try this year—but she’s burned out on practices before the school year even starts!

Maybe pom-poms aren’t so bad after all….

I took one last look in the mirror and dredged up a massive sigh, a sigh that, like Helen of Troy’s face, could have launched a thousand ships.

Unlike my face.

Not that it’s a bad face. A little on the round side maybe, but that’s genetics, not chocolate doughnuts. Brown eyes. Naturally straight teeth, which is good. Naturally straight hair, which is not so good.

No extra eyeballs or stray nose hairs. The occasional zit, but nothing of epic proportions.

All in all, a perfectly acceptable face. Nothing special. Nothing that’ll be launching a thousand ships any time in the immediate future. If ever.

Nothing like Elaine Duncan’s face.

Don’t get me wrong. Elaine isn’t perfect.

It’s just that everybody thinks she is.

I mean, her thighs are a little heavy, but with that thick wavy black hair and those deep blue eyes, her flawless taste in clothes, unfailing sense of humor, brains, confidence, and genuine niceness, who the heck bothers to criticize, much less even notice, her thighs?

Ever since I got to know Elaine two summers ago, when we both signed up for a three-week theatre camp at the college, I’ve wanted to be just like her: the style, the humor, the brains, the confidence, the niceness. The whole enchilada.

At first I thought maybe a hair cut and dye job would be a good place to start, but my imagination, one of the few things I have that’s truly excellent, kept me from creating a Red Cross level disaster. Elaine’s hair on my head would have been really awful.

In the battle between cosmetology and genetics, genetics wins every time.

It’s not that my hair is exactly bad. It’s just that it’s straight. And brown. Nothing dramatic. Nothing stylish. Nothing special.

And that’s me, Barbara Louise Jensen, in a nutshell.

So why, on my first day as a junior at Travis High School, did I even bother looking at myself in the mirror? Sure, I had the skirt and matching top and the classic Elaine Duncan shoes, but isn’t there a saying somewhere about making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear?

"Why couldn’t it still be yesterday?" I muttered.

At least yesterday all I had to worry about was Andy.

Roberta Olsen Major wore out two toy typewriters as a child before her parents decided it would be more frugal to provide her with the real thing. Throughout junior high and high school, she used two fingers to tap out lurid, angst-filled stories peopled with impossibly beautiful characters speaking highly improbable dialogue.

After earning a BA from Brigham Young University, she worked as a librarian in sensible shoes, before switching her Major to the care and feeding of a scientific husband and two charming children.

A published playwright and reviewer of children’s books, she now lives in Texas, where she collects dust, gets taken for daily walks by her faithful Schnauzers, and is, as always, working on her next book.

The Ice Cream Crone: "…a galloping romp of hilarity on a quest of pure enjoyment. Roberta Olsen Major delights her readers with wit, puns, and good old silliness… filled with the perfect combination of chivalry and joviality… Life, love and the pursuit of laughter reign…” --Joyce Handzo, In the Library Reviews, October 10, 2003

The Ice Cream Crone: "… takes ‘happily ever after’ a hop, skip and a jump farther, leading the child in us all on a merry romp through ‘what if’.” -- Pam Ripling, author of Locker Shock!

ISBN: 1590889444
ISBN(13-digit): 9781590889442
Copyright: 2008
Book Publisher: Wings e Press
Binding: Perfect
No. of Pages: 138
Paper Weight (lb): 6.2

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