A new school, she thought. As if a new family wasn’t enough?
Tamar sat on her bed, face buried in her pillow, wishing she could cry. The tears were there, lodged in her throat, building up somewhere behind her eyes, but she just couldn’t get them to come. They were fighting to be released, and the pressure was causing her head to pound. But Tamar was spent. She just could not cry.
Her long brown hair fell in waves along her pillow as she tried valiantly to pull herself together.
A new school, she thought. As if a new family wasn’t enough?
As if taking my siblings away from me wasn’t enough?
As if starting a new school as the kid from the dysfunctional home is even possible. Not in eleventh grade, it’s not. And it’s not even the beginning of eleventh grade. It’s NOVEMBER.
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