He didn’t look at all like what I pictured, though. I guess I thought he would have a huge butt, but he didn’t.
In fact, he was a pretty normal guy. Tall and thin. Old but not really old. He seemed nice.
He shook my mom’s hand first. “Hi, Mr. Tushman, it’s so nice to see you again,” said Mom.
“This is my son, August.” Mr. Tushman looked right at me and smiled and nodded.
He put his hand out for me to shake. “Hi, August,” he said, totally normally.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Hi,” I mumbled, dropping my hand into his hand while I looked down at his feet.
He was wearing red Adidas. “So,” he said, kneeling down in front of me
so I couldn’t look at his sneakers but had to look at his face, your mom and dad have told me a lot about you.”
“Like what have they told you?” I asked. “Sorry?” “Honey, you have to speak up,” said Mom.
“Like what?” I asked, trying not to mumble. I admit I have a bad habit of mumbling.
“Well, that you like to read,” said Mr. Tushman, “and that you’re a great artist.”
He had blue eyes with white eyelashes. “And you’re into science, right?”
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