Eighth Grade

It’s my birthday. It’s first period. I walk into art class. George and I are joking about our current art project: drawing a bowl of fruit. And “fruit”, of course, means painted wood in the shape of a fruit. George grabs a pear from one of the bowls and tosses to me. I try to catch it, but I can’t because I’m holding my gigantic Language Arts binder (so I won’t have to stop by my locker afterwards), and it bounces off my leg.

I pick it up. “Go long!”

We toss the pear back and forth for a while until Mr. Guest tells us to stop. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like us.

Teresa Whittemore calls me over.

“Guess what?” she says.

I refuse to be played. Instead, I stare inquisitively at her. It goes on for about five seconds, but she’s still waiting for me to ask what.

I give in. “What?”

She pulls out Snuggly Puppy Pillow Pet from behind her back and gives it to me.

“Oh my God. ” My eyes grow really wide. Suddenly, I can’t think, can’t breathe. I crush her in a bear hug and start jumping up and down in pure, unadulterated joy. That’s exactly what I wanted for my birthday. “That’s exactly what I wanted for my birthday!” She smiles back at me. I think I’m broken, because now all I can say is “Whaaaat! What! Whaaaaaaat!” over and over again. I’m freaking out. I start shaking my wrists. 

The bell rings. I try to leave the class with dignity, but I’m so excited I sprint out the door. I don’t even know where I’m going anymore. Should I just go straight to Language Arts? Is there enough time to do a victory lap around the school? How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? Suddenly, my foot catches on the edge of someone’s locker, and I crash to the ground. My binder explodes on the floor, sending papers everywhere. But at least I landed on my Pillow Pet.

This is the exact make and model. Teresa Whittemore is awesome.