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Polly-Brooke

“Turn to page 357 in your textbooks,” Mrs. Swanson directed to the class. The room filled with unwilling groans and snooty remarks. Polly-Brooke felt like complaining as well, but the memory of the long, agonizing lecture her parents had with her the other night popped into her head, and made up her mind for her. So she quietly flipped through the fat book to the correct page.
“Now that everyone is to the right page I would like someone to read the first question at the top of the page, lets see,” the middle aged woman’s mascaraed eyes scanned the stuffy room for a reader. To Polly-Brooke’s dismay the gloppy eyes stopped on her. The girl’s face suddenly became hot and she could feel her classmate’s eyes all, relieved, and staring at her expectantly.
“Miss Field, would you please read the first question out loud, nice and clear for us?” Polly-Brooke knew it wasn’t a question. The junior girl tried not to make eye contact with anyone, she just turned her face towards the page and began to read very slowly.
“Wwwhen...a...tri... tri...annnggle...is con...gruuu...ent to anottthhher triannngle, howww do... youu find the....vvvertexx... anngle,” Polly-Brooke’s heart was pounding and she looked up to meet her teacher’s face. Mrs. Swanson held a look on her face that is the kind you give a toddler when they tell you what two plus two is. A couple of kids snickered in their seats behind Polly-Brooke.
The girl’s face slowly went back to its normal color as another student read in a crystal clear voice the next
question. Polly-Brooke wished so much that she could read with that type of confidence, but she was born with a brain that functions differently from people. When the she was still in grade school she didn’t have a problem with reading poorly, because everyone did. But being in high school and not being able to read well just makes you a freak.
After the long agonizing class ended and the bell rang. Polly-Brooke stuffed her books away and trudged out of the school to her shiny red bike. On her way across the parking lot she passed a popular girl. Polly-Brooke heard the girl and her friend’s mocking Polly-Brooke’s reading to each other. The poor teen felt like screaming at them and running away to her favorite place. She chose the latter and bicycled away from the high school and away from the taunting voices. But she could not escape the voices in her head.





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