She’s looking down while she speaks, and I suddenly have the weirdest thought: She’s intimidated by me

Iwake up on the morning of high school orientation with one coherent thought: I’m not going. I’m not, I’m just not. Walk into a room full of girls, half of them strangers, and half who think I’m a nerd?

Absolutely not. It’s too real, too big, too frightening.

I’m just a kid, and I’m really, really not down for that.

I look at my door, where my uniform hangs crisply. My shoes are in the box, right where I left them when they arrived. The bag, still with the tags on, is filled with notebooks and pens. Everything has been chosen and sent to us by my older sisters, 6,000 miles away. The wonders of modern society… which I would probably learn a lot more about if I actually attended high school. Which I will not be doing.

I turn onto my side and tuck my hands under my cheek.

Before I got my braces on, I had to have four teeth pulled. I remember approaching the chair and thinking, “How am I going to lie down there and let this man yank teeth out of my mouth?” I had been shaking like a leaf.

That’s how I feel now.

And suddenly, I’m angry at my sisters. So, so angry at them. I was fine! I was totally fine, living in my own little world, rhyming my way through my day, alone and spaced out. And now, they’ve spaced me back in on the verge of the biggest step of my life. Like, please flick on all my antennae in time to be electrocuted.

It’s fine, though, cause I’m not going. I flick off my alarm clock and pull the blanket over my head.

That’s when Mommy comes in. Spoiler alert: I go.