“it’s still stinging me.” i cried as the circle of children opened for miss bell.
“ht foot as she stooped over to inspect2 it. just then, feeling a ne, i yelped in pain.
“here. let’s take off your shoe.” instructed miss bell, squatting doet the shoe.
then, i remembered the holes in my socks. . holes in socks for our fly in the years follo the great depression. shoes got fresh paper inserted every saturday to cover the holes in their soles. but socks ot pulled doan to cry from the pain in my foot, but i refused to let miss bell take off my shoe. i could not bear for her and the others to see the hole in my faded red sock. “come on, then. let’s go inside to the office.”
a trail of first graders folloround. i did my best to curb my tears. yet, each time the thing in my shoe stung me, i ?” he asked.
“something is stinging her right foot, but she rabbed the shoe and pulled it on and held it. the stinging hter i clasped4 the shoe.
“ me to miss beli and back at me in puzzlement.
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