Walking at Midnight

My mother begins every afternoon by asking the same repetitive, redundant question: “How was school today?”
    To the question that makes my blood boil in my veins, I tend to give a caustic, “Fine.”
    But one day I’ll tell her. Tell her the truth, that is. The truth that, in fact, my day was far from fine. That, yes, I got an A on my English paper, but I also found out that my best friend’s dad is an alcoholic, that there are still rumors flying about my brother, and that a former best friend of mine currently prostitutes herself for ecstasy.
    So far, that day hasn’t come.

The End

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