I step out. ready. in my new dress. my slicked-up shoes. feeling good. with my coral. lipstick. my first hint of. blush. like my friend. showed me. to make the cheek bones. stick out. like a model she. told me. feeling good I. step in. to the car. unguarded. I step in. to reality. into the things dad. wants. to tell me. all the. way to. class. ‘holding you. to a higher. standard.’ he says. ‘for your own. good.’ he says. as though I can’t. work out for. myself. that I don’t. make. the. grade. as though. I don’t know. I’m a failure. an embarrassment of excess. a monstrosity. of mortification

the boys. are in a line. shuffling. to the music. the boys. refuse .to take my hand. one. after. the. other. after the. other. after. the. other. until the short boy. the very short. boy takes pity and. we limp              along.              uncomfortably.              to              the              last              box.              step

when you. finally come. to pick me up. I stay. still. in the back seat. pretending to be. interested in something. out the window. desperate. not to show. my tears. a sign I. failed. as predicted. and the worst bit. a trigger for your shame. which is starting. to become. an unbearable. burden