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"But it's not--""Now!" Mrs. Price says.This is when I wish I wasn't eleven, because all the years inside of meten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two and onethe back of my eyes when I put one arm through one sleeve of the sweater that smells like cottage cheese, and then the other arm through the other and stand there with my arms apart ldoes, all itchy and full of germs that aren't even mine.That's when everything I've been holding in since this morning, since when Mrs. Price put the sweater on my desk, finally lets go, and all of a sudden I'm crying in front of everybody. I wish I was invisible but I'm not. I’m eleven and it's my birthday today and I'm crying like of everybody. I put my head down on the desk and bury my face in my stupid clown-sweater arms. My face all hot and spit coming out of my mouth because I can't stop the little animal noises from coming out of me, until there aren't any more tears left inshaking like when you have the hiccups, and my whole head hurts like when you drink milk too fast.But the worst part is right before the bell rings for lunch. That stupid Phyllis Lopez, who is even dumber than Sylvia remembers the red sweater is hers! I take it off right away and give it to her, only Mrs. Price pretends like everything's okay.Today I'm eleven. There's cake Mama's making for tonight, and when Papa comes home from work we'll eatand everybody will sing only it's too late. I'm eleven today. I'm eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, and one, but I wish I was one hundred and two. I wish I was anything but eleven, because I want today to be far away already, far away like a runaway balloon, like a tiny eyes to see it. 3 "Now!" Mrs. Price says.This is when I wish I wasn't eleven, because all the years inside of menine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two and one-- are pushing at the back of my eyes when I put one arm through one sleeve of the sweater that smells like cottage cheese, and then the other arm through the other and stand there w