I carried my sneakers along with my school bag with me to the door and stepped in front of the mirror to have one final look at myself, my usually curly hair was neatly split into two side braids with red bows tying them at the end, my shirt was neatly tucked under the hem of my skirt, my sleeves were buttoned and my collar was folded perfectly - I looked as ready for my first day of school as the other kids I saw on TV. I quickly put my recently-polished shoes on and headed to the bus stop. “Yo, Khadija, do you really think you’re going to school?” I looked to the back and saw my neighbor Isaiah. Being my best-friend, I always told him how much I wanted to go to school, but he kept telling me that school wasn’t made for people like us. At some point, I almost believed Isaiah, until my father was killed by a policeman and my mother remarried a white man who told me not to listen to anyone who tells me I can’t. I heard my mother speaking to my aunt once when they thought I was asleep,...
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