Hi, I'm Avery
I was the girl in elementary school that got in trouble for passing notes.
I would fold the delicate notebook paper carefully, making sure the edges matched up perfectly, and as I handed the note off, I would watch eagerly while it passed sneakily, carefully, hand from hand across the class room, under desks and behind backs like contraband.
I would watch the recipient of the note unfold it—slowly as not to alert the teacher—and I would read their face carefully as their eyes scanned the messily scrawled contents of the page. Impatient, I would wait for them to look up and give me a broad, crooked toothed grin and mouth, “What happens next?”
I was the girl that got in trouble for passing notes, but that’s not fair. I wasn’t passing notes. I was passing stories.