On the morning of her seventh birthday, Zahara awoke feeling excited. All she had dreamed of for months was a bicycle of her very own — a red one, swift as the wind. When she dashed downstairs and saw the large, ribbon-topped box waiting, her heart soared. Inside gleamed the most perfect bike she could imagine. “It’s magnificent!” she cried, giving it a test spin around the kitchen tiles. She named it “Comet (彗星)” on the spot.
That very afternoon, the school carnival was buzzing with noise and music. Zahara rode Comet proudly alongside her best friends, Lily and Chloe. When Lily spotted a stand selling personalized bike license plates（车牌）, the idea was irresistible. “We have to get matching ones!” she exclaimed. The three girls hurried over, their coins clutched tightly.
Lily and Chloe found their names in an instant among the neat rows of letters. But Zahara scanned the display again and again. ADAM, AMY, ANNA…her eyes moved down the alphabet, past the ZACKs and ZOEs, but her name was nowhere to be seen. A small knot of disappointment tightened in her stomach.
“Excuse me,” she asked the stand attendant, “are there any more plates in the back?”
The man shook his head, barely looking up from his newspaper. “Please, could you check?” Zahara insisted, her voice hopeful. He sighed. “What’s the name?” “Zahara,” she said clearly. He frowned. “Come again? Spell it.” Z-A-H-A-R-A, she spelled out, each letter feeling heavier than the last.
To her horror, a snicker (暗笑) came from behind her. Zac, a boy from the grade above, was watching. “Of course they don’t have it,” he called out. “It’s not even a real name! Za-HAIR-uh! Sounds like you’ve got fuzzy（毛茸茸的） hair!” A few other kids nearby giggled. Zahara’s cheeks flamed（发烫）, and the world seemed to shrink to the sound of that cruel version of her name. Tears filled her eyes as she fled, leaving the stand and the laughter behind.