I don’t even know how to answer that. Everyone should have rules for coloring. “Well,” I say, “that way the pens stay perfect. They don’t get dried out like yours do. Besides, don’t you think pens look better all lined up neatly, instead of jumbled everywhere?” “No,” he says. “I like jumbled.”
“Fine. Then go jumble your basketball, but you’re not jumbling my brand-new pens.”
He sighs deeply and turns to leave. As he does, he accidentally knocks over my pencil-holder, where I had all the pencils neatly arranged by height.
“Mason!” I moan, as the pencils roll across the floor.
“I’ll help, I’ll help,” he says. He starts picking up the pencils and putting them back, some pointing down, some pointing up, until I can’t stand it. “Never mind! I’ll do it myself,” I say.
He races out the door.
After I pick up all the pencils and rearrange them, I close the door and start to read my book again. It’s the autobiography of Miss Camilla Freeman, a very famous prima ballerina. My friends and I all met her two weeks ago. Our ballet teacher, Ms. Debbé, had a very special pair of toe shoes autographed by Miss Camilla. My friend Brenda borrowed the shoes, although unfortunately Ms. Debbé did not exactly know that Brenda was borrowing them. And also unfortunately, Brenda’s cousin’s dog, Pookiepie, ate the shoes when no one was looking. We all went to see Miss Camilla to ask her for a pair of her toe shoes to replace the ones in Pookiepie’s stomach. Amazingly, everything turned out okay. We even got to have tea with Miss Camilla afterward, which was one of the Most Significant Experiences of my life.
