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Show Woodworth/17 Don't even try to apologize for this one. Not this time. You. Are. Not. My mother anymore." "Dnn't even try," Marty says out loud. The tears are coming now- She turns and yells up at the window, "Don't even try." There is no one there. She turns back, and walks to the top of Coolidge Hill. From here, she can see all the way down into the town. When sledding, they used to say that if they could get the taboggen going fast enough, they could go all the way to Westfield center. The other side of the hill leads down to the pond. A fast run that goes, skidding, on to the ice. Jake could do that alone, standing up on the taboggen and holding on to the lead rope with one hand, waving the other one free, like a bronco buster. They used to come down here and pretend they were pioneers at water hole, Swiss Family Robinson in the willow trees, or wild horses, whinneying, pawing at the ground, tossing their manes and galloping around and around the pond until the sky turned pink and purple and red. One afternoon after school, Marty found Jake by the pond. She ran up and tagged his shoulder and yelled, "you're it", and ran away again. But he didn't move, so she stood and watched while he threw things into the water. After a while, when he had to go further away to look for rocks, she went and looked for some, too. I went almost all the way back to the house, Jake, and brought you a lot _of_,_rocks;_ that I carried in my shirt with the hem pulled up. 11_was..one of my school shirts, but I did it anyway, knowing that I.might get yelled at. I showed you the good skipping rocks that I had found for you, and held the rocks in my shirt while you |