“Now Rachel, that’s enough,” because she sees I’ve shoved the red sweater to the tippy-tip corner of my desk and it’s hanging all over the edge like a waterfall, but I don’t care.

“Rachel,” Mrs. Price says. She says it like she’s getting mad. “You put that sweater on right now and no more nonsense.”

“But it's not—”

“Now!“ Mrs. Price says.

This is when I wish I wasn’t eleven because all the years inside of me – ten, nine, 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 with my arms apart like if the sweater hurts me and it does, all itchy and full of germs that aren’t even mine.

What does the conflict described in this passage help you understand about Rachel?

She does not want to wear the sweater because she thinks it is ugly.

She does not feel comfortable standing up for herself.

She does not want to be celebrating her birthday.

She thinks Mrs. Price is mean.
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