I didn’t get my way. —Glinda, Wicked Wednesday, December 3, 7:48 p.m.In my roomBad day at dance Brynn showed up to school this morning wearing all black, and dark sunglasses between classes, for the third day in a row. She was making a statement. I ignored it all day, but when we were in the bathroom in the gym changing for dance, she was actually making moaning sounds like she was in pain. I felt I had to ask. “Are you OK?” “Obviously not,” she said. Then she looked at me like it was physically painful to be in the same room with me. “You know you’re the last person I feel like talking to.” She paused, letting her words sink in. When she continued, her voice was lower like she wanted only me to hear what she was about to say. “I’m going to apologize to Billy for what happened. I don’t really think I did anything wrong, but I know he was upset.” She paused again. “I’m the kind of person who is willing to take responsibility when I do something that upsets someone else.”
