So I made a mental picture of how high she’d climbed, and the next day I set off to outdo her by at least two branches.
I made it past the crook, up a few limbs, and then – just to see how I was doing – I looked down.
Mis-take! It felt like I was on top of the Empire State Building without a bungee.
I tried looking up to where my kite had been, but it was hopeless.
I was indeed a tree-climbing weenie. Then junior high started and my dream of a Juli-free existence shattered.
I had to take the bus, and you-know-who did, too. There were about eight kids altogether at our bus stop,
which created a buffer zone, but it was no comfort zone.
Juli always tried to stand beside me, or talk to me, or in some other way mortify me.
And then she started climbing. The girl is in the seventh grade, and she’s climbing a tree – way, way up in a tree.
And why does she do it? So she can yell down at us that the bus is five! four! three blocks away!
Blow-by-blow traffic watch from a tree – what every kid in junior high feels like hearing first thing in the morning.
She tried to get me to come up there with her, too.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색