A Singular Choice
I didn’t want to go in there. This was my choice, I know, but now I’m having second thoughts.
I slowly made my way up the long, winding steps that led to the building’s main entrance.
Why am I doing this? Things were fine at home. Sure, Stevie can be annoying, but that didn’t seem so bad right now.
Mom and Dad had said it was up to me, my choice. That I’m old enough to be choosing these kinds of things for myself. Having that freedom, that responsibility had been so exciting at the time.
But now I wasn’t so sure I’d made the right choice.
But it was too late now, right?
I reached the top of that impossibly long sidewalk and paused in front of the main entrance doors. Hitching the bag (purchased brand new just last week) higher on my shoulder, I decided that I now had no choice but to push through the fear and doubt that had creeped up on me and just do it.
Taking one final deep breath of the freedom-infused outside air, I pushed open the main entrance door and walked in, underneath the giant letters that hung above the entrance: SQUIRREL HILL HIGH.