Story eleven Here is the beginning:

What they don’t understand about birthdays and what

they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re

also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five,

and four, and three, and two, and one. And when you wake up

on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you

don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday,

only it’s today. And you don’t feel eleven at all. You feel like

you’re still ten. And you are—underneath the year that makes

you eleven.

Like some days you might say something stupid, and

that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you

might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared,

Question:

Lines 10–11: Describe the language in these lines. Why might the author have chosen this kind of language?