d　pretty　unfortable；

but　we　could　both　see　that　something　about　this

invitation　meant　a　lot　to　my　mother。　“All　right　then；”　he　said；　and　got　to　work　slicing　cheese

and　onions。

For　the　rest　of　the　afternoon；　I　sort　of　lazed　around；　reading　and　daydreaming。　And　at　school

the　next　day；　I　couldn't　seem　to　concentrate。　My

thoughts　kept　turning　back　to　David。　I　wondered　what　my　grandparents　had　been　like；　and

what　they'd　gone　through；　having　a　son　like　him。

I　daydreamed　a　lot　about　the　sycamore　tree；　too；　which　at　first　I　thought　was　because　I　was

feeling　melancholy。　But　then　I　remembered　how　my

mother　had　called　the　sycamore　a　testimony　to　endurance。　It　had　survived　being　damaged

as　a　sapling。　It　had　grown。　Other　people　thought　it　was

ugly；　but　I　never　had。

Maybe　it　was　all　how　you　looked　at　it。　Maybe　there　were　things　I　saw　as　ugly　that　other

people　thought　were　beautiful。

Like　Shelly　Stalls。　A　perfect　example！　To　me　there　was　absolutely　nothing　to　remend　her；

but　the　rest　of　the　world　seemed　to　think　she　was

the　cat's　meow。

Me…ow。

Anyway；　I　sort　of　drifted　through　the　week　like　that。　Until　Thursday。　Thursday　our　social

studies　class　went　to　the　library　to　do　research　for　our

famous　historical　figure　report。　I'd　chosen　Susan　B。　Anthony　and　her　fight　for　the　right　to　vote；

and　I　was　in　the　middle　of　tracking　down　some　books