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Tuesday, June 29, 2010
#23 Michele Shaw (revised)
Beads of sweat popped out above my lip. Not good, because Sweaty Lip Syndrome, my unofficial medical term, was the first sign I was going to fall apart. It started when the secretary interrupted my fourth period AP English class. Her voice came over the intercom in pops and squeaks when she said, "Tell Colleen Anderson she needs to leave with her mother for a dental appointment." No one knew about the ruse, that my mother was gone and my aunt, Zia, now played the part.