A Kind of Spark: Adeline's Story

“This handwriting is utterly disgraceful.”

I hear the words, but they seem far away. As if they are being shouted through a wall. I continue to stare at the piece of paper in front of me. I can read it. I can make out every word, even through the blurriness of tears. I feel everyone in the classroom watching me. My best friend. Her new friend. The new girl. Some of the boys are laughing. 

I just keep staring at my writing. Then, suddenly, it’s gone. 

Ms. Murphy has snatched it from my desk and is now ripping it up. The sound of the paper being torn is overly loud. Right in my ears. The characters in the story I was writing beg her to stop, but she doesn’t. She crumples it all together and throws it toward the classroom bin. She misses. My story lies in a heap on the scratchy carpet. 

“Do not ever write so lazily again!” she shouts. 

Maybe she isn’t even shouting, but it feels that way. “Do you hear me, Adeline?” I prefer being…