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'had grass, trees, sky. Here, there was nothing but city. She felt like she couldn't breathe. It terrified her.
Another loud buzzer sounded and she shuffled her way, with hundreds of kids, towards the entrance. She was jostled roughly by a large girl, and dropped her journal. She picked it up (messing up her hair), and then looked up to see if the girl would apologize. But she was nowhere to be seen, having already moved on in the swarm. She did hear laughter, but couldn't tell if it was directed at her.
She clutched her journal, the one thing that grounded her. It had been with her everywhere. She kept notes and drawings in every place she went. It was a roadmap of her childhood.
She finally reached the entrance, and had to squeeze in just to walk through. It was like entering a train at rush hour. She had hoped it would be warm once she got inside, but the open doors behind her kept a stiff breeze blowing down her back, making the cold even worse.
Two large security guards stood at the entrance, flanked by two New York City policemen, in full uniform, guns conspicuously[...]'

De ogen van de tiener 3Waar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu