Nancy rubs her eyes, heart pounding as she stares at the unfamiliar school uniform her mother laid out. The cotton feels stiff in her hands, the blue skirt and white shirt both strange and official. She pulls the outfit on slowly, gazing at herself in the mirror and wondering if anyone will notice the trembling in her fingers. Downstairs, her mother quietly wishes her luck in their native language, squeezing her shoulder before Nancy steps out into the chilly morning air.
Nancy hesitates at the threshold, clutching her backpack. The noise presses in on her, making her flinch when the bell rings overhead. She steps inside, unsure if she should follow the crowd or stay put, her eyes scanning for any familiar face. In the hallway, lockers slam and sneakers squeak; posters in bright colors line the walls, but their words are unreadable to her.
Mr. Bennett, the teacher, offers a wide smile and gestures for everyone to sit. Nancy finds an empty seat, watches as students open notebooks and begin scribbling. She copies their actions, not knowing the meaning of the lesson or the words spoken around her. When "Good morning, everyone! Let’s share something about ourselves.", she lowers her head, praying she won’t be called.
Nancy stands in line, cradling her tray, uncertain where to sit. She watches groups gather, some glancing her way before turning back to their conversations. Steeling herself, she sits alone at the end of a table, eyes fixed on her food. Across the room, a group of students snicker; she doesn’t understand their words, but the tone stings just the same.
Nancy[/@ch_1]'s desk, decorated with colorful doodles.]
Sofia, a girl with curly hair and a gentle smile, glances over. "I like your drawing," she says slowly, pointing at a sketch Nancy made in the margins of her notebook. For a moment, Nancy feels seen. But when the teacher asks the class a question, another student laughs at Nancy’s silence, and she flushes, wishing she could vanish.
Nancy sits quietly, backpack heavy on her lap, replaying the day in her mind. She wants to explain her confusion and fear to her mother but the words stick, tangled and unreachable. Instead, she simply hugs her, letting the exhaustion settle in. Tomorrow will come, but for tonight, she is safe, if only for a little while.
