My Teacher Threw My Report About My Marine Dad’s Dog in the Trash and Made Me Apologize—Then Scout Walked Into Our Classroom
Lauren handed her a dime.
“Then we can afford to let it think.”
The printer restarted.
Clean pages collected in the tray.
Clara stacked them carefully.
Her original report had handwritten margins, eraser marks, and a small pencil smudge.
The new copy looked tidier.
She put the original back in the blue folder and kept the clean copy separate.
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