A sample from a longer story about a bilingual boy named Felix:

by Brooke Reedlunn

Felix spun, sprinted, and sprayed wood chips, coming to a stop by his teacher, Ms. Azalea. He clung to her arm and yelled “Safe!”

“Cuidado, careful!” she smiled.

“Come on, speak some English!” Felix said. “Besides, Spanish is almost out of my head now!” Then he sped away, ran away, turned away and remembered to forget Spanish. He was a big second grader now and had been in the United States for a whole year: he had decided that it was time to move on.

After recess, sweaty, dusty, and tired – the kids leaned in to hear a shark book at storytime. Felix couldn’t wait and blurted, “Keep reading about those…those…tiburones martillos!”

“The what!?!” said Kylie, the lego-collecting queen. “Tibu-who-sey?”

Felix pulled into his hoodie, trying to disappear. Ms. Azalea answered instead, “Thanks Felix, Let’s all try saying Hammerhead, ‘tiburon martillo!” Everyone else (even Kylie) repeated the Spanish but Felix was remembering to forget.

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