I stand next to my mother's car, terrified. The big red building I am in front of is a madhouse. Twenty or so children my age, running and jumping and shouting.
"I am NOT going over there." I cross my arms. My mother smiles.
"You'll be fine, honey." She ruffles my hair.
"It's a MAD HOUSE over there!" I exclaim. My mother persists,
"Go. You'll be late." She pushes my forward and I have no choice but to walk over to the schoolhouse. As I'm
