Tonight Stradlater came back from his date with Jane, a girl whose name he can't even really get right or remember. I gave him the descriptive essay that he had me write for him for his english class because he is nothing but a jock who needs people that are flunking out of school like me to complete his assignments for him. I decided to wright the essay about my younger brother's baseball glove, because I couldn't think of a good room to describe, like Stradlater wanted me to do. I thought it was pretty great, but Stradlater must have thought it was garbage, since it wasn't about a Goddamn room. I guess I was pretty mad, so when he started yelling at me over it, I yelled back at him. I was angry that he was on a date with Jane just for pleasures and he did not even care about things like whether or not she still played checkers the same way that she used to when i played with her. I started mocking him after that, and he got real mad and puched me right in the Goddamn face.
Maybe I shouldn't be picking fights with bulit, older students than myself, but it still was a great essay, I found this picture of a baseball glove. It does not have the poems written in green ink like Allie had on his but it still looks just the same otherwise.
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