proper tools to comb through the mass we both stood there trying to figure out what to do. i gave her the “see, i told you so” look annoyed at the fact that knew that i was right, and because she was bigger and older i had to obey. now, not only did i look a hot mess, but also i would be forced to go through my day looking like the pick-a-ninny that being the only black student from k-9th grade i already felt like. add to that the fact that my mother was going to kill me because i knew better, in this simple act of taking out 