Tuesday, August 10, 2010


I tried to be unobtrusive when I entered the hall, but that was nearly impossible, since the door creaked when I opened it and the chair squeaked when I quickly sat on it. Arriving late was awful -- especially when a hundred pairs of eyes were looking right at your direction. My seat was next to an old yet gentle lady. I sat alone, no family accompanying me.  My eyes kept glancing up at the clock and then back down again, my tentative fingers tapping a song on the metal of the chair. I was waiting for the man to finish his speech...it was focused on the importance of prayer...or something like that. I could see the  old woman look at me. I was  not only the only 17 year old girl in the hall, but the only one wearing jeans and a  slightly ripped up shirt. Although a good 20 minutes had passed since I made my prominent entrance, I could still feel everyone's eyes penetrating through my skin, like I was some kind of alien. Where's her mother? They would be thinking. How on earth could that poor girl come here alone? Was she treated all right at home? Oh, that poor girl. 
Well, I smiled a scintillating smile to myself. It was almost a smirk. For a terse moment, I wanted to stand up and tell everybody the truth:  I wasn't alone. My mother was perfectly fine. She was running late from my brother's track meet and couldn't come. But I didn't tell those ladies that. Nah. I enjoyed the attention. I liked their pity on me. 


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