Why I learned to sing

This is just for me and my friend Lia (InsertBanana). Thanks for not posting!

It was twenty seconds before the bell would ring. We would be free, and like a thousand desperate birds we would effortlessly fly out the doors of the grand prison that was public education. And then it rang, yet slowly and hesitantly did I wobble out the door, large backpack in tow. None in the school could know where I was going, what the truth of my home life was. It was better that way. Shamefully I denied study groups and movie nights from gathering at "my place"; in this same shame would I hide my face upon exiting the school each day.

Slowly did I turn away from the main road. The town was small, with most homes reached by way of this road. For this reason I had to turn away casually and sneakily, so as not to evoke questions. None could know the truth of my circumstances.

I continued down a dirt path, and up the mountains south of the school. I tripped a few times, dirtying my jeans. I sighed, knowing I'd have to find a way to clean them before evening.

Finally I came upon the tall, aromatic cedar that held my handmade hammock. My things lay about on various shelves set in the branches, and a roof was made of even more wood. In a sense, it could have been considered a light tree house, but in shame I could not see it as a house.

I set myself down in the branches and sighed. I closed my eyes, and softly began to sing. And soon walls sprung up around me. There was a solid, stable roof over my head. I had electricity, and plumbing, an A/C. A huge family running happily through the house like so many kittens. Lights hung brightly above my bed, which squeaked as I jumped onto it. And still was there the scent of cedar, so beautiful and complementary to the loving scene around me.

I opened my eyes, which were teary. I grabbed my notebook and started on my homework.

The End

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