The staircase leading to Riverside High School’s main entrance never looked so threatening before. Each step was a reminder of yesterday’s accident at home. My arm throbbed in its makeshift sling, Mom’s old scarf wrapped carefully to hide the bruising.
I was 17, and this wasn’t the first time I had to craft creative ways to hide my injuries. I’m Alex Mitchell, and until yesterday, I was pretty good at keeping my father’s temper our family secret. That was before he lost it over my acceptance letter to the state arts program, a future he hadn’t chosen for me.
“You’re going to law school like every Mitchell man before you.”
He’d roared, waving my acceptance letter like it was evidence of a crime. When I stood my ground, telling him I wanted to study photography, something in his eyes changed. That’s when he pushed me.
I remember the moment with crystal clarity, the way time seemed to slow down as I fell backward, the sharp edges of each step cutting into my back, the final crack when I landed on my arm. Mom’s horrified gasp from the top of the stairs followed by her practiced recovery. “Get up, Alex.
You’re fine.”
She’d said it while helping me to my feet. “We don’t need to tell anyone about this. Your father is under a lot of stress at the firm.”
The same excuses, different day.
What nobody knew was that Ms. Walker, my photography teacher, had been working late in her classroom. Her window faced our house just across from the school.
She’d seen everything. I tried to slip into first period unnoticed, but Ms. Walker was waiting by the door.
Her eyes went straight to my arm, then to my face. There was something different in her expression, not the usual pity I’d seen from teachers who suspected but never acted. “Lex, can we talk after class?”
She asked it quietly.
I nodded, my throat tight. The day crawled by in a haze of pain and anxiety. Mom had refused to take me to the hospital, convinced we could handle it at home like always.
“It’s just a sprain,”
she’d insisted, though we both knew it was worse. During lunch, I hid in the photography lab, my sanctuary. The walls were covered with student photos—moments of life frozen in time.
My latest series hung in the corner: Shadows and Light. Close-up shots of everyday objects that looked completely different in changing light. Ms.
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