She needed to be set free, and the only way to do that was to apologize.
The one thing Brooklyn did not know how to do.
Trying to sincerely apologize never went well for Brooklyn. She often tried to avoid it. It always felt too awkward, and she was always reminded of what she had to apologize for in the first place.
A few years ago, when she and a fifth grader took Speech, the fifth grader always showed up late. Brooklyn was usually right on time.
One day, though, she had a confusion with the time written on her hall pass, and arrived five minutes late. Her Speech teacher already wasn't happy, and of course the fifth grader still wasn't there. He had to be called down.
Once he arrived, their teacher went on a long lecture about having to be on time, and how coming late would take up too much of their time.
It was driving Brooklyn to impatience.
When their teacher finally pointed out that they only had fifteen minutes left in their session, it became too much for Brooklyn. The impatience went straight to her eyes, fixing a stone cold glare on her teacher.
The teacher noticed and challenged her. Instead of apologizing, or even saying anything, Brooklyn just burst into tears.
That was how apologies always went. She'd either cry, mumble, or the worst: just stand still and stare at the floor or some random object and try to make herself non-existent.
The one thing Brooklyn did not know how to do.
Trying to sincerely apologize never went well for Brooklyn. She often tried to avoid it. It always felt too awkward, and she was always reminded of what she had to apologize for in the first place.
A few years ago, when she and a fifth grader took Speech, the fifth grader always showed up late. Brooklyn was usually right on time.
One day, though, she had a confusion with the time written on her hall pass, and arrived five minutes late. Her Speech teacher already wasn't happy, and of course the fifth grader still wasn't there. He had to be called down.
Once he arrived, their teacher went on a long lecture about having to be on time, and how coming late would take up too much of their time.
It was driving Brooklyn to impatience.
When their teacher finally pointed out that they only had fifteen minutes left in their session, it became too much for Brooklyn. The impatience went straight to her eyes, fixing a stone cold glare on her teacher.
The teacher noticed and challenged her. Instead of apologizing, or even saying anything, Brooklyn just burst into tears.
That was how apologies always went. She'd either cry, mumble, or the worst: just stand still and stare at the floor or some random object and try to make herself non-existent.
