Or at least it felt that way as I placed my late slip on the corner of Mrs. Wheeler’s desk with a shaky hand. My peripheral vision was a big blur, but it looked like a wall of beetles, sitting in pairs. “Thank you, Aura,” my homeroom teacher said, whispering so as not to interrupt the sacred morning announcements on the PA. Maybe her eyes were kind, but I didn’t look at her. I’d worn my hair down, of course, the better to hide. Unfortunately, it also hid the end of Mrs. Wheeler’s cane poking out from under her desk. In my hurry to take a seat, I tripped over the cane and pitched forward. The floor rushed up, and only my flailing hands broke my fall. “Oufgh!” Dead silence. I wished everyone would laugh, point, call me names. Anything but sit and stare, like I was the one who belonged in a graveyard. “Aura, are you okay?” Mrs. Wheeler’s panicky voice made it sound like I’d had a stroke, not a moment of klutziness. “Fine.” I adjusted my glasses, hoping they didn’t look as crooked as they felt.
