The Red-line rumbled along its route, those passengers not seated, swaying by the gentle rocking motion of the train. One such passenger, a tall, blonde teenager, stood in the center of the car. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder and she was clutching a hand-rail as her head bobbed to the music pouring out of her headphones.
“I am not / a pattern to be followed, the pill that I’m on is a tough one to swallow,” she sang to herself, oblivious to the looks she was receiving from those around her. “I’m not a criminal / not a role model, not a born leader I’m a tough act to swallow…”
“Casey.” A voice buzzed in her ear.
The blonde ignored the voice and kept singing...Read More