I feel terrible about it. Patrick said the best thing I could do is just stay away for a while.
It all started last Monday. Mary Elizabeth came to school with a book of poems by a famous poet named e. e. cummings.
The story behind the book was that she saw a movie that talked about one poem that compares this woman’s hands to flowers and rain.
She thought it was so beautiful that she went out and bought the book.
She has read it a lot of times since, and she said she wanted me to have my own copy.
Not the copy she bought, but a new one. All day she told me to show everyone the book.
I know I should have been grateful because it was a very nice thing to do.
But I wasn’t grateful. I wasn’t grateful at all. Don’t get me wrong.
I acted like I was. But I wasn’t. To tell you the truth, I was starting to get mad.
Maybe if she would have given me the copy of the book that she bought for herself, it would have been different.
Or maybe if she had just hand-copied the rain poem she loves on a piece of nice paper.
And definitely if she didn’t make me show the book to everyone we know.
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