Dear Bump,
I have an oral presentation due next week. Do you know what that means? Do you?
It means, I’m going to have to stand in front of the whole class and faint.
“I’ll do all the talking, you just hold the chart,” Boone says.
We’re allowed to team up, but that doesn’t help much. Mrs. Saint-Amour counts the words. Everyone has to speak equally, or she knocks points off.
“You write it and I’ll draw the chart,” Boone says.
Please. I know. It’s the same every year.
“We’ll do it on Doc Brown.”
“Boone. Do—oc Brown isn’t a real pe—person.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
This presentation makes my skin itch. Boone doesn’t understand the concept of research. Reality doesn’t seem to visit him much.
“We’ll say he’s from out of town.”
We have one week. One week to find someone we admire and
