妈妈的曲奇饼

摘要

As I sat in the second-floor window of our brick schoolhouse that afternoon,my heart began to sink further with each passing car.This was a day I’d looked forward to for weeks—Miss Pace’s fourth-grade,end-of-the-year party.Miss Pace had kept a running countdown(倒计时)on the blackboard all that week,and our class of nine-year-olds had bordered on insurrection by the time the eagerly anticipated“Party Friday”had arrived.