Where the Staircase Ends by Stacy Stokes6/28/2023 ![]() ![]() This year, I only had two classes with Sunny, and so far things were playing out exactly as my nightmares predicted. We’d stack our bags and notebooks on the empty chairs around us until we’d decided who we wanted to sit by. Last year, Sunny and I sat in the back row whenever there wasn’t assigned seating. I looked at the other kids milling around the classroom, their eyes flicking toward the door like they were waiting for someone. I stared at the door to my classroom, shaking my head in confusion. But why did I feel like I was just someplace else? I was exactly where I was supposed to be. It was the first day of school, first period. Wasn’t I … what? My mind grappled for the answer but couldn’t find one. Instead, I was wearing jeans and my favorite blouse, the one my mom hated because, well, she pretty much hated anything that I liked. Someone rammed into me from behind, knocking my backpack askew. ![]()
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