Sunny Trebskier

Ten-year-old Sunny sighed. When would school be over? she thought. She longed to get out of school and hop on her skateboard. To ride down the New York City streets, the wind in her hair, and the cold air rushing through her t-shirt. Even though the boys and girls would be making fun of her for riding a skateboard, Sunny loved to ride.

That’s what they did in the other schools Sunny had gone to in the past. It was a weird hobby for a girl in the 1950s.

For years Sunny had moved from place to place with her five younger siblings. Her mom had insisted they go to different schools to pursue Sunny’s education, but Sunny knew the real reason. Her mother didn’t want Sunny to be unhappy with the name-calling. At every school the children seemed determined to think up new names to tease and annoy Sunny. This was probably because no matter how much Sunny tried to contain herself, she loved to ride skateboard.

The first present she had opened on her birthday when she was turning five was a foot-long purple-and-blue skateboard. Ever since then, she had loved to ride.

In school the dismissal bell clanged, and Sunny hopped from her seat, grabbed her skateboard, slung her backpack jauntily over her shoulder, and rushed out the door. This was the pattern for Sunny day after day. She was born to ride.

Ten years later:

Twenty-year-old Sunny steeled herself to the roaring of the crowd. She was just about to do something she had waited for since she was seven years old. She was about to compete in the international skateboarding championship.

Sunny was famous. She had pursued her dream to compete in skateboarding and become the first woman skateboarder to compete in international skateboarding. The crowd erupted with deafening roars as Sunny walked out to see the crowd. Sunny smiled and thought that even if she didn’t win this competition she would always be grateful that she had pursued her dream no matter what other people said.