Other children taunted and teased, the playground at recess a sounding board for their righteous assumptions. I used to care very very very much, but one day, Alice approached me from behind to show me a rabbit hole she’d discovered in the soccer yard, tucked away in a corner beside a fence barring us from the outside world. I could see the Cheshire’s grin from deep within the darkness, also taunting and teasing, and knew I was home. We giggled and grinned, sliding through dirt and moss, not caring what our mothers would think later of our pale blue dresses, filthy with unsavory things. Stumbling through the forests of Wonderland, Alice and I played tea parties in fields of paper flowers lying underneath purple skies, becoming slightly mad with hilarity, and donning funny hats. But suddenly, a sharp ringing sound shrilled in the distance, followed by hundreds of thunderous footsteps and shouts. The Queen of Hearts and her army of playing cards was approaching swiftly, so we tried to escape using the only magic we knew how: we closed our eyes tight, counted to ten, balling our fists together. But when my eyes opened, the sky was bright blue, the soccer yard and playground empty. Walking into class, other children taunted and teased, the teacher also a sounding board for their righteous assumptions. But, I simply sat down, smiled, and didn’t say anything.