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Show < Kim looked off in the distance, but couldn't spot the bushes. "Uh-uh," she said. "Over there," she said, "on the other side of the courts." Kim squinted and finally spotted a cluster of bushes. "What about them?" "Well, last spring after tennis, I used to watch a little sparrow building its nest. For days, the bird would fly over the playing field, sometimes dropping down to pick up dead grass and sometimes getting twigs and reeds from off the dirt by the bushes. Mimi sat up and grabbed her knees up to her chin. "One blade of dried grass at a time, that little bird built a sturdy nest in a crotch of that bush. Then you know what happened?" "No," Kim said. "I was waiting on the court to play with Elizabeth Farrell. She was coming from the parking lot, beyond the tennis courts, swinging her racquet back and forth, and when she came to those bushes, she took a big swipe at them, trying to knock off the berries. I yelled at her, but it was too late. That poor bird's nest went back into a hundred blades of grass." "That's too bad," said Kim, "but what does that have 88 |