"The sweater is not mine!" My insides were screaming a deathly scream. I didn’t want the sweater on my desk, taking up my space. All I wanted when she placed the smelly sweater on my desk was to be as far away from it as possible.

    There was no way I was going to touch the sweater with my bare hands. I took my pencil in between my index finger and thumb and slowly moved the sweater to the very tip of my desk. Most of it was hanging off the edge. Then I scooted to the way opposite side of my chair, hoping Mrs. Price wouldn’t notice.

    BUSTED! Mrs. Price yells at me to put the sweater on. I wanted to throw the sweater at her and make her wear it! And that is why I cried! I had a very good reason. I am not a baby like some other kids were saying! Mrs. Price grabbed the tears and ripped them out of my eyes. It was all her fault my birthday was ruined.