It was the first day of school and my legs were like teardrops, threatening to go 'splat!' onto the ground. My eyes were Gucci bags and my shoes the color of Giovanni chocolates but smelt like some suburban slum.
I was a mess.
"Mom can I go tomorrow?" I pleaded as she pushed me and my bag into her car. She was beaming, on the other hand, proud that I was finally in the last year of high school. "I told you not to go gardening right in the morning," she chided.