Teens in America: Class Pictures
Marieke
When I was younger, before I came to Andover, I used to go downtown with my
father. We made the rounds: grocery store, shirt store, video store, and finally
the library. There I would pick up books off the shelves, accumulating such great stacks that my father made me put some back. "Save them for later," he said. Carrying piles of slippery books in my arms, frequently dropping one or two along the way, I would take them up the stairs, into my house, and often straight to the living room couch. There, my body wedged between cushions and warmed by the afternoon sun, I would read straight through to dinner. If I was still in the middle of a book, I might bring it to the table, placing it next to my plate until my parents made me put it away.