© 2015 Abby Danfora photography
"What were you thinking?" she asked. "Why did you do it? What could you possibly have been thinking?"
She towered over me in her utilitarian, mass-produced chair, which was probably made in China over a decade ago.
"What would your parents say? Your father? What will he do when--"
I thought about the concert I was going to with my best friend later this afternoon. We'd get our photographs signed after the show, maybe talk to the singers, go get fat on pizza and junk after. We'd come home at 2 a.m., sleep 'til noon the next day, go out and shoot some hoops maybe.
"Are you even listening?"
I looked up.
"I wasn't thinking," I said. "I'm sorry."
She looked intensely at me, pursed her lips and sighed. Her eyes met her folded hands in her lap.
After a moment, she got up and pushed her utilitarian chair back under her desk.
She waved an arm down the empty school hall.
"Stay out of trouble," she said. "Go on, get outta here."
I turned and escaped past the dark empty classrooms and into the fresh sun.
I turned and escaped past the dark empty classrooms and into the fresh sun.
© 2015 Abby Danfora
