Chapter 5September 3rd
I wasn’t ready.
I filled my backpack up with new notebooks, pens, and textbooks. I brushed my hair straight and then changed my mind and pulled it into a ponytail. I wore a gray T-shirt, loose jeans, and running shoes. I was as nondescript as possible. No one would notice me in a crowd, would point to me and yell, “How’s it going, murder-girl?” but still, I wasn’t ready. Would I ever be ready?
“Let’s goooooo,” my mother hollered, all voice and no substance, her tiny body at the foot of the stairs looking fully incapable of producing her authoritative lawyer voice. “Get a move on or you’ll be late for your first day!”
I slung my backpack over my shoulder and tromped down the stairs, feeling nauseated and excited and also not ready. My dad kissed my forehead before
