Learning how to swim was gruesome. After Gary informed me about his new inflatable swimming pool in the third grade, I had inquired Madeline the headmatron of the orphanage I grew up in, for swimming lessons. The next day she called me at the playground and said we were to take a walk. Madeline was a grumpy old woman, with a scary, oversized mole just above her upper lip. The walk was silent, daunting, and nerve wrecking. Skinny eight year old me, was barely walking with trembling knees through the small trail in the woods. Twinks cracking under the weight of my sandals.Once we came to a stop in front of a lake, her green piercing eyes looked down at me, lips snarling up into a mock of a smile, a thin drawn brow quirked upward. “You said, you want to learn how to swim, right?” Her voice was always grouchy, cold, and detached from all emotions.I gulped and nodded my head, my nasty attempt of a ponytail bouncing with every movement that my head made.She then shoved my chest, arms f
Last Updated : 2024-08-13
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