“Mom” I have a question. Jane said. I really need to ask you but I don’t know how. I’m afraid you may punish me, take away my game or even make me quit the tennis team. And I cant have that., I muttered. My mom looking at me angrily wanting too know the question. “Jane stop beating round the bush and let me know wassup.” She said in her baritone voice, frustrated and mean. “Ok Mom” Jane said sadly, with a sneaky grin. Uhhhhh my question is…(stops and looks in the air to think). Oh yeah ummm. I don’t know how to put this sentence into the correct structure, Jane repeated. OMGGGGG, “Mom screams”. Just ask the question, pushing me up against the wall; trying to hang me like wet, heavy soggy pants that wont stay. Pointing her finger in my face.” You listen!” she said. Sweat dripping from her face as I’m pinned up to the wall. “Im going to give you one last chance to ask this question. If there seems to still be a problem. YOU’RE GROUNDED! Your lack of maturity is killing me. All I wanted you do to do was ask one simple question. And you continue to over boil my blood pressure. Now, that you understand what im coming from; pulling me down from the wall. What’s your question Jane? Looking at me curiously. Well Mom, I said softly. My question was why didn’t you tell me? My mother was startled.
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