dear lola,
so this is how the first meeting is going:
i walked in and they had a cool little banner for me saying welcome harlem.
i smiled and grabbed a lemonade cup. mr. d. is the host. i'm not really enjoying this.
the people start to sit. most of the people i don't know. all of them are from the disabled group or need an aid to walk and go with them. i really don't see how i am like them.
mr. d looks at me.
"everyone welcome harlem!" i huff as everyone claps. one paralyzed kid screams.
oh god, she's doing it. lola, stop. my hand twitches back and forth. stop, no. i sit. stay calm.
stop lola. stop it.
i push my yell down my throat. at least i'm not in gym, or this would be really embarrassing. well, no one knows that i'm hearing it agai-AAAAH!
the paralyzed boy is floating. floating and his aid is screaming. and mr. d is trying to calm the kids and i run to the bathroom.
YOU ARE READING
letters to her voice
Teen Fiction"what happened at school today, harlem?" "i created a tornado of glass." "you could have killed chester macavee." "at least i didn't kill him, like lola." {letters with .5 are thoughts but never written} {lowercase intended}
