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"Eleven" Emily Kratz
Today I'm eleven. There's a cake Mama's making for tonight and when Papa comes home from work we'll eat it. There'll be candles and presents and everybody will sing Happy birthday, happy birthday to you, Rachel, only it's too late.
Today I wish I was one hundred and two instead of eleven because if I was one hundred and two I'd have known what to say when Mrs. Price put the red sweater on my desk. I would've known how to tell her it wasn't mine instead of just sitting there with that look on my face and nothing coming out of my mouth.
"Now, Rachel, that's enough," because she sees I've shoved the red sweater to the tippy-tip corner of my desk and it's hanging all over the edge like a waterfall, but I don't care. "Rachel," Mrs. Price says. She says it like she's getting mad. "You put that sweater on right now and no more nonsense." "But it's not—" "Now!" Mrs. Price says.
I put my head down on the desk and bury my face in my stupid clown-sweater arms.That stupid Phyllis Lopez, who is even dumber than Sylvia Saldivar, says she remembers the red sweater is hers! I take it off right away and give it to her, only Mrs. Price pretends like everything's okay.
Even though you may be young, that does not mean you cannot reason with those older than you.
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