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Show Hannah Mae and the Mona Lisa 6 Paris, Hannah? Strolling in a sunny park? Watching little boys sail toy boats in a pond? Eating ice cream by a fountain? Wouldn't it be wonderful?" I shuffled my feet. "It wouldn't hurt to try, would it? Someone has to win the scholarship. It might as well be you. And Colby could run the vegetable stand by himself while you're in Paris. The trip only lasts two weeks. You could work extra all summer to make it up." Miss Larkin didn't seem to understand that walking away from vegetables in August was like shutting down Santa's workshop in December. Colby would strangle me if I left, and nobody would cast any blame. At my funeral, Colby would drop a handful of dirt on my grave and say, "Sorry, Hannah Mae. I know you sure did love that trip to Paris." But Pastor would caution, "Don't grieve too much, boy. That fool girl had it coming for leaving you in August like she did." My name would thereafter roll off folks' tongues with a hint of regret-like the way you'd speak of a fine horse that kept jumping his corral, only to be put down in the end because he wasn't good for nouiing'But running free. I looked at the application. It was titled: Paris, the City of Lights. I read the instructions: In your own words, explain what you most want to see in Paris and why. Entries should be original and double spaced on white paper. Not to exceed 250 words. I folded the instructions and placed them inside my French book. "Did you say a thousand applications were turned in last year?" I gulped. |