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 him like that！
Bryce looked over his shoulder from time to time as they walked along； and he was looking
at me。 My first thought was that he was telling me he
was sorry。 Then it dawned on me— he needed my help。 Absolutely； that's what it had to be！
Shelly Stalls was too delicate to shake off； too swirly to
be pushed away。 She'd unravel and start sniffling and oh； how embarrassing that would be
for him！ No； this wasn't a job a boy could do gracefully。
This was a job for a girl。
I didn't even bother checking around for other candidates—I had