Weather is worse in Alaska than in the setting of Jolly Days in your book, Secrets of Dripping Fang. It's freezing cold outside, can you send some bubble wrap? Just kidding. I live in a two story house on top of Bear Mountain.

The story had me on my tippy-toes because it was so stomach churning. ‘As Wally walked up the stairs with visions of the Onts pouncing on him,' I had to skip that paragraph. I went back later.

When Wally punched the bully in the stomach, that reminded me of when I was little. Two boys were holding me down saying, ‘Play with us. Play with us.' They wouldn't listen to me when I tried to shake them off. So, I had to bite one on the wrist and I accidentally kicked the other. I finally got away but I got into trouble and it was only my first week in kindergarten. My dad had to meet with the Principal and explain things. Sometimes I want to punch bullies too, but I have to keep my anger down.

The first time I saw a spider, I dived away from it. After Wally and Cheyenne got out of the Ont's house and escaped being eaten by a ten foot long, glow slug, I felt sick. I thought it was even worse to find out about the professor's wife. The children were so scared they could have eaten mealy worms without even noticing!

I am like Cheyenne and Wally. I, too, have stinky feet and loads of allergies. Cheyenne has every known allergy you could possibly have and I only have half as many. Her worst allergy was ragweed, mine is potatoes. I wouldn't trade her for anything; I would rather have a food allergy than a pollen allergy.

I am also like Wally who thinks his cup has a hole in it and it is going to spill out and ruin everything. I think my glass is half empty because I have bully-problems beyond imagination. I am not like Cheyenne and Wally because they are independent, and I still have a family. I admire them beyond boundaries because they don't need motivation. They can do just about anything they want, including running away to a foreign country.

Nice talking to you. Gotta go.
                                                          Kim Pekrul

P.S. My Mom helped me edit and type this.