OPHELIA
With a deep breath, I run my hands over the pleats of my skirt and check out my outfit in the mirror. Not that I need to, it’s the same thing I always wear. Plaid miniskirt, check; white tank, check; black lace-up boots, check; hooded sweatshirt tied around my waist in the event it gets a little chilly, check. It’s like my uniform. No, my armor. My f**k you to the world. There’s comfort in the familiar, particularly when everything else around you is in a constant state of flux.
I give myself a reassuring smile and grab my backpack, ignoring the kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Partly from excitement, partly from nerves. Tonight I’m going to my first football game. Go Dragons …
I take my seat in the second to last row of the student section. I’ve watched eno
