Do I belong here?

I clearly noticed a pattern about the students that got in a straight line.

They were all white! I noticed in my head, trying not to sound racist. Then my name got called out. “PRECIOUS!” she barked. I froze for a second. My mind was thinking, is that really me she’s calling? She called it once more. I quickly shot off of the rug and got in the line with a face bright red like a polished apple.

My hands were shaking. I was moving back and forth from my spot in line. While I was going up the stairs, my head was looking down at my simple black and white Converse taking every step up. “I don’t belong here,” I muttered.

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