On picture day the classroom was
swelling with high expectations and lots of hair combing, at least twice to
make sure. When it was her turn she moved slowly around the green screen until
she was standing in front of the bright lights and the photographer, who looked
like her teenaged brother in a tie that clipped on, but she would not have
known that. She could feel the sweat in her underarms and on her nose, even
though probably no one else could see it. The guy told her to stand with her
left hand on her hip in an attempt to look casual for this year’s spring
pictures, in which everyone would be looking painfully casual.
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