Home Ground: Chapter 40 

I can’t stop crying.

I’m sitting in the middle of a too-silent classroom, feeling every eye in the room boring into me, and I simply dissolve in a puddle of tears and fears and heartache.

I put my face in my hands and the salty water seeps through cracks between my fingers, till my cheeks, hands, even my forehead are slick and wet.

I can’t breathe.

There’s a hand on my shoulder. Mrs. Abramson.

“Let’s step outside for a minute,” she says quietly. I stand, unsteady on my feet, and am almost glad for the tears filming my vision, so I don’t see my classmates’ reactions.