13ConfessionsI’m standing at the center of the living room.
The other candidates are all seated in a semi-circle, staring at me.
Abby blinks from her perch on the wicker couch, feet flat on the seat cushion. A notebook is pressed behind her knees, a pencil tucked behind her ear.
Jayce kicks the legs of her barstool with her heels. She twists the fading pink tips of her hair between her fingers as she evaluates her new nail polish—g*n Metal gray, she told me it’s called.
I try not to squirm, but my heart is pounding. My bare toes curl into the carpet, and my fingers flex in my pockets. Over the past few weeks, each candidate has stood exactly here and shared their story for my benefit. I knew my turn would come. I thought about what I would say, but now, my mind is blank. Nerves strangl
