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Show anyway. There were many daily rituals for Kim at Miss Putnam's. Weighing in and measuring herself in Miss Fites office was one the rituals. She never wavered off 128 pounds unless it was extra cold and she had on an extra sweater. And even though she wanted desperately to grow another inch, no matter how high she stretched herself, the metal measuring bar on the scale wouldn't budge a centimeter passed sixty inches. Another ritual for her was the mail. Every day she checked the green pigeon holed box above Miss Dennis's desk, and every day but Mondays, it was empty. Her mother wrote faithfully once a week on Friday, and unless there was a holiday, Kim always got her letter on Monday. But last Monday there was no letter in the box. And there was no letter Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday or Friday. And by Saturday, Kim was worried. Her mother had not missed a Monday in ten weeks. Something must be wrong, thought Kim. Maybe she's sick and can't write to tell me, or worse yet, maybe she's had an accident. The more Kim thought about the possibilities, the more nervous she got. If there's no letter in my box today, thought Kim as she walked over to the Residence after the game, I'm goin' to call home. A long distance call was expensive, she knew. At least three or four dollars. But she couldn't stand to go another 125 |