A chair waited near the edge of the room. I sat down and folded my hands in my lap, breathing slowly. Crying in front of them was the one thing I refused to do.
Then someone shouted again that my dress was “disgusting.”
The word hit somewhere deep. Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them.
Just as I felt myself breaking, the music suddenly cut off.
The DJ looked confused and stepped away from the booth.
Our principal, Mr. Bradley, stood in the center of the room holding a microphone.
“Before we continue the celebration,” he said, “there’s something important I need to say.”
Every face turned toward him.
And every student who had been laughing moments earlier went completely silent.
Mr. Bradley looked around the room slowly before continuing.
