It was the worst. Everywhere I went, I was the shortest person. My feet smacked on the pavement, my purse swinging off my shoulder, my bookbag bouncin... behind me. A few of the students smiled at me. Then they frowned and stared at my t-shirt.“Abigail!” Courtney greeted when she saw me. She blinked “Um, are you okay?”“I'm just mad,” I said, walking past her and those lush sweater puppies she always was showing off. She wore a top so tight that it molded to her tits. On top of that, she had a. " Then... have a seat."Morgen holds out the sewing chair for me. I look at it. Am I reallygoing to do this?But it's only a dumb chair, right? What's the big deal? Mrs. Feyla's nothere. It won't matter to her, right? But I can't shake the feeling thatperhaps Mrs. Feyla really *is* here. And that's she looking at me rightnow, wondering what I'm going to do. Wondering if I'm... worthy?I take a breath to clear my head and then I step forward and sit down inthe chair. And the weirdest feeling comes. More

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