All I wanted was a Goddamn Yearbook...

...But they cost $55.

The fake leather covers, the full-color pages, the smell of fresh ink on paper, my picture in four different places, all of my friends, classmates, and teammates smiling right back at me.

Just a yearbook, like every other person bought.

I went home. I begged. I pleaded. They said maybe I'd be able to get one on Friday.

If there are any left.

It was fine until they mentioned bathing suits.

"Eta, we found some fashionable bathing suits for you!" She said, and I knew what she meant.

The ugly Teletubbie costumes that have the same floral print you'd find on a quilt in your great-grandmothe's basement with a name so ugly it makes you want to vomit.

Burkini.


"Look at this one! It has a nice color!"

The mocking grew louder.

ALL I WANT IS A YEARBOOK. A YEARBOOK, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. WHY ARE YOU SUCH AN ASSHAT?!


I knew the yearbook was gone as soon as I said it.

"An asshat? What's an asshat?"


"You're not getting any taller. I'm sure a burkini will last longer than a silly yearbook."

I slammed my door.

I was going to walk out the door tomorrow in jeans and a t-shirt, but without a scarf on my head.

I think I have to tomorrow.