My fingers ached.
Miss Williams stood near my small, wooden desk, arms crossed over her flat chest and foot tapping on the floor looking every last bit of the bitter, burned-out teacher she was. She stared out the window with big, bulging eyes I always thought looked extra weird set in her skinny face.
She was not happy having to stay after school with me again.
I’d been sitting for two hours, at least, and my butt was going numb. I shifted in the hard seat and tried to rub the ache out of my cramped hand.
I went back to scribbling on the piece of paper until it was full of words. Miss Williams walked to the cabinet, got another sheet and brought it back to me. “Write,” she said.
I held up my hand, “It’s sore and all red.” It’d been worse. I knew that. But I figured I’d try my luck.
She turned those eyeballs on me for a minute. “It’s been worse,” she said.
I sighed, picked up the pencil again, and wrote four words. A stick came down on my knuckles. “I’m tired,” I looked up through my lashes, “I wasn’t thinking.” I made a show of switching the pencil to my right hand. Miss Williams grabbed the paper and read:
I am left-handed
February 17, 2016 prompt: Diversity – In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story of a character who is diverse. Who is this person? Does this character know, accept or reject being perceived as different?
I didn’t make it this week. I followed the prompt, got it in on time but, technically, my “99 word” flash is not 99 words. It’s WELL over at 220. First time for everything. Sorry, Charli. 😝