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"Oh
my gosh, oh my gosh!"
"What's the matter?" my
mother asked.
"I've got soccer practice.
Right now! I completely forgot. I was supposed to be there at three
thirty. My coach is gonna kill me. Quick, Mom, where's my uniform?"
I started running around
trying to pull my jeans off over my sneakers without sitting down. My
shoes got jammed in the legs of the pants, and I tripped and fell down
on the floor.
"Relax, Guysie. Nobody's
going to kill you. I'll write you a note."
"A note? What are you,
nuts?" I said, finally managing to yank my pants off. "Mothers don't
write notes to soccer coaches. Please, just tell me where my uniform
is."
"I washed it last night.
It's probably still in the dryer."
I stopped dead in my tracks.
"You put it in the dryer?"
"Yes."
"Remember I told you not to
do that because it might shrink and it was already too small to begin
with?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. You did tell
me that, didn't you, sweetie?"
I ran down into the basement
in my underwear and yanked open the dryer. Crossing my fingers, I
reached into the warm, dark drum.
"How is it?" my mother
called from upstairs.
How it was, was horrible.
The shorts were so tight I could barely get them on, the shirt had
shrunk to the point that you could see my bellybutton if I lifted my
arms, and the socks didn't even reach my knees anymore. There was
nothing I could do about it; I was already late for practice. I ran back
up the stairs and into the kitchen.
"Oh, dear," my mother said
when she saw me. "That does look a little snug."
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