Stunt-Van

Stupidly Short Chapter One

"Good morning, class," Mrs. Wilson says. "How was your summer?"

We all know (or at least I do) that "How was your summer?" is really code for "Please talk about how your rich parents took you away to some obscure Caribbean island; I have nothing better to do with my life.", but whatever. I listen to kids talk on and on about expensive restaurants with caviar and "cram-broo-lay" which is apparently a dessert.

"I, um, went to Paris," one girl says. I can barely hear her. It's then that I notice that she, like most in this classroom, is wearing expensive clothing. I look down at my black tank top and jeans, and suddenly I don't believe myself when I think, "It's not about the clothes, Van. It's about the personality."

Sure it is.

Despite my internal battle, the teacher keeps talking. "That's nice, Sammy. I've always wanted to go to Australia. Ok, is that everyone?" No. "Yes? Ok, well, as your Theatre Arts teacher, your first assignment will be-"

First assignment?! Four minutes and twenty-five seconds in. I hate this new school. I pick at my nails and think of home, not the dump I live in. I imagine my father. Blue eyes, black hair just like mine. He smiles at me, grabs my hand. Why can't he be here?