“All morning he had been running from one class to another, pushing people aside in his haste, bumping into others, darting around the edge of the hall. The only thought in his mind was getting to the safety of his next class. “Watch it, Mouse!” “Look out, Mouse!” “Way to go, Mouse!” It occurred to him as he ran that there could be no question of how he got his nickname this day. He was a mouse. He wished his mother was there to see him because she was always asking, “Why do they call you Mouse?...” “Because I act like one, I guess,” he had answered, but this hadn’t satisfied her. “Well, tell them to stop.” “Mom, you don’t tell people what to call you.” “A nickname like that can stick with you.” “I don’t care.” “Well, you will. If you get to be president of a college or a company some day, people will still be calling you Mouse.” “I don’t think you have to worry. I’m not planning to be president of anything.” But the idea had stuck with him.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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