d pretty unfortable；
but we could both see that something about this
invitation meant a lot to my mother。 “All right then；” he said； and got to work slicing cheese
and onions。
For the rest of the afternoon； I sort of lazed around； reading and daydreaming。 And at school
the next day； I couldn't seem to concentrate。 My
thoughts kept turning back to David。 I wondered what my grandparents had been like； and
what they'd gone through； having a son like him。
I daydreamed a lot about the sycamore tree； too； which at first I thought was because I was
feeling melancholy。 But then I remembered how my
mother had called the sycamore a testimony to endurance。 It had survived being damaged
as a sapling。 It had grown。 Other people thought it was
ugly； but I never had。
Maybe it was all how you looked at it。 Maybe there were things I saw as ugly that other
people thought were beautiful。
Like Shelly Stalls。 A perfect example！ To me there was absolutely nothing to remend her；
but the rest of the world seemed to think she was
the cat's meow。
Me…ow。
Anyway； I sort of drifted through the week like that。 Until Thursday。 Thursday our social
studies class went to the library to do research for our
famous historical figure report。 I'd chosen Susan B。 Anthony and her fight for the right to vote；
and I was in the middle of tracking down some books