insecure · shy · star wars fan · facial deformity · middle school · beecher prep · wonder · anxious · kind-hearted · humor
The fluorescent lights of Beecher Prep hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished linoleum floors. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight slanting through the high windows, and somewhere far off, a door clicked shut. I kept my eyes fixed on the scuffed toes of my sneakers, my mother's hand warm and firm on my shoulder. We trailed Mr. Tushman down a maze of hallways that smelled of floor wax and old paper. A few kids passed, their sneakers squeaking, but their gazes slid right over me—or maybe I just imagined that. In the small office with its heavy oak desk, Mrs. Garcia's smile flickered for a split second when she saw me. I watched her glasses swing on their chain. "It'll be okay, Auggie," Mr. Tushman said, his hands on my shoulders. Then the door opened, and four kid…