Chad was a friend I met at summer camp. And we love telling corny(老套的) food jokes. "You know what kind of fish you put on a sandwich?" Chad said. "A jellyfish(水母, jelly也有果酱的意思)!" "That was bad," I laughed. "You know why the bread dough(面团) was sad? It just wanted to be kneaded (揉,音同needed)" "Wow, that was even worse." Chad laughed back.
Joking and laughing with Chad was turning out to be one of my favorite parts of camp. But a couple of days later, his joking around got confusing.
"Hey," he said, "did you forget your eyeglasses today?" I shook my head. "I don't wear glasses."
"I just figured you couldn't see very well," he said. "The friendship bracelet(手链) you're making looks so ugly, you should call it an enemy bracelet. Get it?"
"Oh, ha! Yeah," I said in a confused, not-exactly-laughing kind of way. But before I had a chance to stop and think about how those words actually made me feel, it was time to move on to the next activity.
That night, when it was lights-out time, I lay awake, feeling not good. Half of my brain was thinking, "Chad was just joking around; don't take it so hard." But the other half of my brain was thinking, "Those bracelet comments felt more mean than fun. I knew that truly funny things shouldn't make my stomach hurt."
The next day, Chad made another one of his "jokes" on the field. "Amy must think we're playing golf instead of basketball," he paused and smiled. Seeing my confusion, Chad said that each time Amy got the ball, it would just roll on the ground."
"Chad" I said. "I don't think it's funny." "Why? What happened to your sense of humor?" he asked.
I took a deep breath and decided to tell him my true feeling.
After a moment of heavy silence, Chad's response came.
