Lee has a history of academic success and community involvement. She was the star of the orchestra, the choir, the student government, the volleyball team, the announcement crew, all while topping the honour roll. She befriended every staff at school and could chat up a storm with any one of them at any given time. Every June, she took home one award, only because it was the most one could receive per year.

Half a decade later, she hasn’t lost her lustre. Lee placed third in her series at the provincial Distributive Education Clubs of America (DECA) competition just last week, beating out 120 of her colleagues who were already in the top sixty percent of their regions. Her choice of topic – food marketing – is rather unprecedented, and I ask her why she chose it. She gives me an answer so naïve, I can hardly believe it comes from her.

“I like food,” she giggles, and her eyes disappear into thin lines. The next moment, her soulful gaze makes a return. “Of course I’d like to do everything I want, but at the same time, there are obligations – as a student, as a member of the community, and as a human being,” she says. “It’s the same reason why I choose to volunteer at the TSO instead of a senior home. I try to incorporate my passion into what I have to do to reduce the burden.”

The fact that Lee focuses on life’s positives reflects in her ubiquitous laughter. Friends would call it “loud”, “annoying”, or even “obnoxious”, but in the end, they all agree that “genuine” is the best word to describe the sound – and its owner. “She’s honest and outspoken, but never offensive,” says Michelle Gentile, who works with Lee at the Don Mills Toronto Public Library. “But I don’t understand why she always comes to work with hands full of shopping bags.”

And here, once again, I learn something unique about the Virgo. “I don’t have much free time, but when I do, there’s only one place I go.”

Let me guess – Downtown?

“Mmm-hmm,” she explains, pointing at her white-washed Pumas. “I got these at thirty-percent off.”

It’s a true wonder how Lee manages to complete even the most trivial part of her schedule so impeccably. I simmer myself in the question for just a few moments, silent. But Lee doesn’t have a second to waste. “We’re done, right?” She seeks my confirmation as the minute hand on the clock strikes ten. I nod. We both get up to put on our coats. Her black satin Guess bomber jacket looks even more expensive next to the shabby cafeteria benches. “Sorry this was rushed; I have work at five,” she apologizes on our way to the bus stop. For someone whose confidence is known to border arrogance, I am pleasantly surprised at her comment. I tell her it’ll be fine – I have enough information to write a book on each of her achievements. The bus arrives. She smiles to me, trots onto the bus, and disappears into the winter sun.