第3部分(第3/7 页)

r。　She'd　bring　in　some　note　and　be　sure　to　swoon　a　little　for　the　teacher

the　first　few　days　of　the　year；　after　which　she'd　be

excused　from　anything　that　required　muscles。　She　never　even　put　up　her　own　chair　at　the

end　of　the　day。　The　only　muscles　she　exercised　regularly

were　the　ones　around　her　mouth；　and　those　she　worked　out　nonstop。　If　there　was　an

Olympic　contest　for　talking；　Shelly　Stalls　would　sweep　the

event。　Well；　she'd　at　least　win　the　gold　and　silver—　one　medal　for　each　side　of　her　mouth。

What　bugged　me　about　it　was　not　the　fact　that　she　got　out　of　P。E。—who'd　want　her　on　their

team；　anyway？　What　bugged　me　about　it　was　that

anyone　who　bothered　to　look　would　know　that　it　wasn't　asthma　or　weak　ankles　or　her　being

“delicate”　that　was　stopping　her。　It　was　her　hair。　She

had　mountains　of　it；　twisted　this　way　or　that；　clipped　or　beaded；　braided　or　swirled。　Her

ponytails　rivaled　the　ones　on　carousel　horses。　And　on　the

days　she　let　it　all　hang　down；　she'd　sort　of　shimmy　and　cuddle　inside　it　like　it　was　a　blanket；

so　that　practically　all　you　saw　of　her　face　was　her　nose。

Good　luck　playing　four…square　with　a　blanket　over　your　head。

My　solution　to　Shelly　Stalls　was　to　ignore　her；　which　worked　just　dandy　until　about　halfway

through　the　fifth　grade　when　I　saw　her　holding　hands

with　Bryce。

My　Bryce。　The　one　who　was　still　embarrassed　over　holding　my　hand　two　days　before　the

second　grade。　The　one　who　was　still　too　shy　to　say

much　more　than　hello　to　me。

The　one　who　was　still　walking　around　with　my　first　kiss。

How　could　Shelly　have　wormed　her　hand　into　his？　That　pushy　little　princess　had　no　business

hanging　on　to　h