April 9, 1997 Wednesday
The Spanish play performed yesterday at Western got first place, so Mrs. Wales’ wrath was spared, and Hoke was alive to pick me up before school today. He said they were getting a party today because they got first. I asked what they all would have gotten if they had placed second. “Detentions,” and Hoke, looking ahead as he drove.
In Art class Mrs. Cardiff said our own regional festival is next Thursday. The color pencil collage that took me half of the semester is going. It would be nice to win something for it, but it isn’t as important to me as the literary contest I’m going to this Friday.
Everyone seems to be slowing down, with the end of the year quickly approaching. Also, more people are beginning to reminisce about memories they have. I got a lot of these down, and will use them in my segment Bushels of Corncob Memories.
Today we have a game at Valley. The bus from Brimfield is going to be swinging by for the Elmwood players at 3:30, so here I am, at home, getting this down before I have to go.
The following are Emma Reed’s memories:
Bushels of Corncob Memories As told by Emma Reed
What Emma remembers most is when she broke her arm in October of our fourth grade year. I remember it as well. Back in grade school boys used to chase girls all over the playgrounds at recess. I was chasing Emma, who was running backwards to avoid me, and she fell. I myself remember being on the big, wide grassy hill beside our school, watching Emma run past me soon afterwards, holding her arm. Emma also remembers when she went up to the recess monitor at the time, Mrs. Hoover, to tell that she was hurt. Mrs. Hoover shook Emma’s arm and told her she was fine.
Another thing Emma remembers is when she was accused of being in a food fight in sixth grade. What Emma says is that Michaela and Mande Harvey were the ones involved in the food fight, and she hadn’t even sat with them that day. From what I remember she’s right–she was just usually always a third part to whatever the others were doing. She seemed a little mad about it even now.
No One Will Believe You 