| OCR Text |
Show WHY WE CRY PART III: THE WHITE PLATE I have seen Butch every day this whole summer, even slept out with him over seventy times and now I don't see Butch for two days; in fact, I don't see anybody really. With little league over, no one is ever in the park. I want to tell them that if they think they're smart for considering summer over, they've jumped the gun. It's still summer; it just tastes different. Then the day arrives when I have to go over to the junior high and register, and I go into the same holding pattern that the whole neighborhood seems to be in. My mother asks me if I want her to go with me and I say no, that's all right. I go over alone, and it turns out the worst part is walking up to the doors. There are three rooms for registration, and from the second story room in which I sign up for Algebra II, I can see the bra in the tree. I don't want to look at that thing all year in algebra. I don't see Butch in any of the rooms. Fenn shows up after a while with |
