knew marked a rebirth, a second chance at a life stolen from me. I am Sarah Miller
ee my mom always brewed too early, the same sliv
n't the s
soul into ungrateful students was gone
was vivid,
esident, stood at the entrance of the Northwood High testin
s, my AP History stude
ica "Jes
perpetually late, perp
first life, I saw the
ot in my stomach, t
hem inside! The check-in
s he was about to scoff no
n almost by the arm, shouting over
ourse, miss
she found me alon
etal, a sharp,
dar
voted boyfrie
e, fueled by my "guilt" ov
t, tragi
ed student, showered with sympathy and
other an Assistant Superintendent, people
Jessi's lies, hound
r, heartbroken, their
lives. I heard her gloating to Ethan, her words cold and clear, "Sh
olt, and
MORNING
ight, the sam
face Ethan Vance at
s time,
h Miller would
ts' reputations – those
r from a prestigious international sch
een place echoed, "She was always so easy to f
be a final insult,
not in
this
my movements ca
Northwood Hig
ere th
ed, looking impat
rs, a sea of anxious
e morning air, exactly as I remembered. "W
tion that I, the teacher, was the unreasonable on
ng how my efforts to help them, to push them towards res
in without her," a girl, Maya, pipe
ler. It' s not fair to her i
version of it
rgued, pleaded, explained
the expectant faces, and felt a
s their choice,
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