What Is Meg Murry Doing Everything Wrong?

It was a dark and stormy night. In her attic bedroom Margaret Murry, wrapped in an old patchwork quilt, sat on the foot of her bed and watched the trees tossing in the frenzied lashing of the wind. Behind the trees, clouds scudded frantically across the sky. Every few moments the moon rippled through them, creating wraithlike shadows that raced along the ground. The house shook. Wrapped in her quilt, Meg shook. She was not usually afraid of the weather. -Its not just the weather, she thought.- Its just the weather on top of everything else. On top of me. On top of Meg Murry doing everything wrong.
School. School was all wrong. She'd been dropped down to the slowest section in her