Banes Academy opens its rusty gates to allow you in. The grinding squeak assaults your ear drums, makes your eyes shut and teeth crash together. When it feels like you can’t take one more second of screeching metal, the forward momentum stops, and the sound along with it. The heavy silence warns you to turn and run, but you don’t listen. They’re expecting you inside and you don’t want to find out what happens to tardy students.
The other children arrived twenty minutes earlier, but they wanted you to make a grand entrance. Turning around, you spy Mom behind the wheel of the car. Still in park, but ready to depart as soon as you’re out of sight. A nervous smile flits across her face and she grips the wheel tight. Part of you wants to be angry at being forced into this place, but deep down,
