Ashby is one of the heroes of my story. Her resolve is not strong, and she’s not sure of what she wants, she only knows what she doesn’t want and that’s to stop the intrusion of other kids’ emotions and baggage into her life.
Ashby smiled, feeling that today the cycle was certainly broken, somewhere deep inside her an excited character mixed an elixir of anticipation. There was a part of her that knew just what to do with this day. She decided that she would listen to it, not resist opportunities and follow the day in the direction that seemed most promising. “I’ll be damned,” she thought with a smile, as she turned the corner into the junior high school wing.
The microclimates of Jefferson Middle School were dictated by the winds of adolescent hormones. Internal pressure systems brewed into moody storms in classrooms and hallways; storms that always held potential for clattering thunder, piercing lightning and torrential downpours. Ashby quickly found herself in the moody flow of teenage angst and it pulled her mind back toward it’s usual fearful, protective space. Small cliques gathered in their designated places each one a puddle of overflowing emotion. Thick rumors and speculations dirtied with inky lies seeped from one group to the next. Ashby felt eyes on her and heard whispers and giggles as she passed each group and when no one reached out to her she took the open hand of rejection.