But the next time around, they will laugh

I fell down the stairs in a rather embarrassing place and manner on Wednesday and, while my humiliation has recovered, my ankle has not. It was rush hour in the halls and on the stairs on that morning, and I took the stairs I usually take every morning to get downstairs. It was extremely crowded, and as I was half-way down the second flight of stairs, my ankle slipped. I fell into the crowd of people and my books flew everywhere (along with my binder and the papers in it). I sprained my ankle and limped to P.E. as someone handed me my lunchbox and I tried to respond to all of the thriving-on-dramatic voices of "are you okay!?"

I stifled a laugh at a girl's prayer today, too--a prayer that she wrote. It was a cruel thing to do, but I did not do it out of malice. There were two words in one sentence that I'd never heard together before: "fragrance" and "Jesus." I made an odd little squeaky noise that was quite obviously a stifled laugh, and earned the glares of everyone in the room. I won't ever have friends in Catholicism or history again.