Chapter 2: Dreams
When people move to America, it's usually with the idea of following their dreams. This is totally unrealistic, because the only people who meet their goals are cisgender, straight, white males. It's false hope, a false reality almost. I'm not shitting on my country for no reason, but because it's shit on me.
I watched as the clock ticked slowly, my eighth and final class was about to end. Dodging the jocks in the hall was a challenge, and something I regretted each day. The flag mounted to our dusty chalkboard blew slowly, mocking my worries as it went.
Kevin Sandshaw stood up behind me. As captain of our football team, it was almost a right of passage to shove people into lockers.
"Hey Kay the Gay!"
I rolled my eyes, I hated being called Kay. I was almost unbothered by the insults, it happened so often. "Don't feed into it," I tell myself. It's hard, but it stops them from doing it many times in the moment.
"Don't forget to do the homework," Miss Conetti yelled as the bell rung.
The assignment written on the board looked easy. All I had to do was write if I would want a different family, why or why not? This question lurked in the corner each day. I think hard and long about it on a usual day. But now, I would be challenged to put it into words.
Weekly Power Status
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