It's my first day of high school. I have seven new notebooks, a skirt I hate, and a stomach ache.

I'm a big 'Star Trek' fan.

She turns to us, acts surprised to see us, then does the bit with the back of the hand to the forehead. “You’re lost!” “You’re angry!” “You’re in the wrong school!” “You’re in the wrong country!” “You’re on the wrong planet!

I am a citizen, with the same rights as your son, or you. As a citizen, as a student, I am protesting the tone of this lesson as racist, intolerant, and xenophobic.

You’d be shocked at how many adults are already dead inside, walking around with no clue, waiting for a heart attack or cancer to finish the job. When people don’t express themselves, they die one piece at a time. It’s the saddest thing I know.

There’s no point in asking why, even though everybody will. I know why. The harder question is “why not?” I can’t believe she ran out of answers before I did.

It had been a good day, all things considered. I had managed rather well on my own. I opened Grandfather’s Bible. This is what it would be like when I had my own shop, or when I traveled abroad. I would always read before sleeping. One day, I’d be so rich I would have a library full of novel to choose from. But I would always end the evening with a Bible passage.

Light up the stars in your brain, electrify your body, buckle on your smile, and everybody will love you again.

Just in case we forget that “weareheretogetagoodfoundation sowecangotocollegeliveuptoourpotentialgetagoodjoblivehap pilyeverafterandgotoDisneyWorld,” we have a Job Day.

The best time to talk to ghosts is just before the sun comes up. That’s when they can hear us true.