Если я останусь
4:39 P.M.
InEnglishclass,someoneflungafolded-upsquareofnotebookpaperontothefloornexttomyrightfoot.Ipickeditupandopenedit.Itread,Bitch!
Nobodyhadevercalledmethatbefore,andthoughIwasautomaticallyfurious,deepdownIwasalsoflatteredthatIhadelicitedenoughemotiontobeworthyofthename.PeoplecalledMomthatalot,probablybecauseshehadahardtimeholdinghertongueandcouldbebrutallybluntwhenshedisagreedwithyou.She’dexplodelikeathunderstorm,andthenbefineagain.Anyhow,shedidn’tcarethatpeoplecalledherabitch."It’sjustanotherwordforfeminist,"shetoldmewithpride.EvenDadcalledherthatsometimes,butalwaysinajokey,complimentaryway.Neverduringafight.Heknewbetter.
Ilookedupfrommygrammarbook.Therewasonlyonepersonwhowould’vesentthisnotetome,butIstillscarcelybelievedit.Ipeeredattheclass.Everyonehadtheirfacesintheirbooks.ExceptforKim.Herearsweresoredthatitmadethelittlesideburnliketendrilsofdarkhairlookliketheywerealsoblushing.Shewasglaringatme.Imighthavebeenelevenyearsoldandalittlesociallyimmature,butIrecognizedagauntletbeingthrowndownwhenIsawit,andIhadnochoicebuttotakeitup.
Whenwegotolder,welikedtojokethatweweresogladwehadthatfistfight.Notonlydiditcementourfriendshipbutitalsoprovidedusourfirstandlikelyonlyopportunityforagoodbrawl.
