Maybe I should have been honest then, but it didn’t feel like the right time.
When I left school that day, I didn’t go home because I just couldn’t talk to her on the phone,
and my mother is not a very “adroit” liar about things like that.
So, instead, I walked to the area where all the shops and video stores are.
I went straight to the bookstore. And when the lady behind the counter asked me if I needed any help,
I opened up my bag, and I returned the book Mary Elizabeth bought me.
I didn’t do anything with the money. It just sat in my pocket.
When I walked home, all I could think was what a terrible thing it was that I just did, and I started crying.
By the time I walked in the front door, I was crying so much that my sister stopped watching television to talk to me.
When I told her what I did, she drove me back to the bookstore because I was too messy to drive,
and I got the book back, which made me feel a little better.
When Mary Elizabeth asked me where I had been all day on the phone that night,
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