"THEY LAUGHED WHEN I SAID MY MOM WAS A NAVY SEAL... THEN THE SWAT TEAM BROKE DOWN THE DOOR. It started on a Tuesday. Tuesday mornings at Oak Creek Middle School always smelled like floor wax, stale cafeteria pizza, and teenage desperation. I was sitting in the back of Mrs. Gable’s homeroom, trying to make myself as small as physically possible. I wore my hoodie up, shadows covering my eyes, praying the clock would speed up. The assignment was simple: ""Career Narratives."" We had to stand up in

"THEY LAUGHED WHEN I SAID MY MOM WAS A NAVY SEAL... THEN THE SWAT TEAM BROKE DOWN THE DOOR. It started on a Tuesday. Tuesday mornings at Oak Creek Middle School always smelled like industrial floor wax and teenage desperation. I was sitting in the back of Mrs. Gable’s homeroom, trying to make myself as small as physically possible. I stared at the gum stuck to the underside of my desk, counting the seconds until the bell would save me. It didn't. The assignment was simple: ""Career Narratives.""