I dashed in the front door slamming the screen door behind me. I paused in the hallway looking at my reflection in the gold edged mirror. Who was that stranger with short curly hair? It wasn’t fair that Mom had said my hair had to be cut. I had begged her not to but she insisted. I glimpsed Mom coming up the walk so ran down the hallway and clattered up the uncarpeted stairs. I closed my bedroom door behind me and leaned against it taking deep breaths trying to control the tears that threatened to escape.
I sat at my desk and looked at the open copy of “Anne of Greene Gables’ but the words were blurred. My fingers touched the edge as I laid my head on the smooth surface of the white Queen Anne desk.
I gazed around feeling bewildered. Where am I? How did I get here? The air…
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