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Welcome to Storyline Online, brought to you by the SAG-AFTRA Foundation.
欢迎来到《明星为你读绘本》，由SAG-AFTRA基金会为您呈现。
I’m Tramell Tillman and I’m gonna read the book Abdul’s Story,
我是特拉梅尔·蒂尔曼，我要读的书是《阿卜杜勒的故事》，
written by Jamilah Thompkins-Bigelow and illustrated by Tiffany Rose.
作者是贾米拉·汤普金斯-比格洛，插图由蒂芙尼·罗斯绘制。
Abdul loved to tell stories.
阿卜杜尔喜欢讲故事。
He told one about the high-stepping kids who collected donations in boots.
他讲的一个故事是一些孩子一边做高抬腿，一边拿着靴子募集捐款。
Another about the teenagers who danced in subway cars.
另一个故事是一群青少年在地铁车厢里跳舞。
He had one about the bow-tie-wearing man hawking bean pies on Broad Street,
还有一个故事，讲的是一个戴领结的男人在百老汇大街上叫卖豆子馅饼，
and even one about the woman who sold water ice from her basement on hot summer days.
以及一个女人在炎热的夏日，在自家地下室里卖冰沙。
Writing these stories was hard, though.
写这些故事其实挺难的。
Making lowercase b face the right way was tricky.
把小写字母b的方向写对很是麻烦。
P and s, too.
p和s也是一样。
Silent letters were downright sneaky.
而那些不发音的字母简直就是在闷声干坏事。
How could Abdul know there was an e if it never made a sound?
要是一个e不发音，阿卜杜尔怎么会知道有一个e呢？
Abdul loved straight lines like the ones his barber shaved.
阿卜杜尔喜欢直线，就像理发师给他剃出的那种直线。
But Abdul’s scribbly, scratchy, scrawly letters never stayed on any line.
但是阿卜杜尔那潦草、凌乱、歪歪扭扭的字母从来不会老老实实地待在线上。
During writing period each day, he wrote, then erased his mistakes;
在每天的写字时间，他先写，然后再擦掉错字，
wrote then erased;
写了，然后又擦。
wrote then erased.
写了，然后又擦。
His classmates had neat sentences.
同学们的字迹都很工整。
Abdul had smudges.
但阿卜杜尔的本子涂得黑乎乎的。
Why write his stories anyway?
为什么他还要写故事呢？
The people and places in his schoolbooks never looked or sounded like the people or places he knew.
课本里的人和地方看起来、听起来一点都不像他认识的人和地方。
Some stories are for books, Abdul decided, but not his.
阿卜杜尔明白了，有些故事适合写在书里，但他的故事不是。
One day, Abdul’s class had a visitor.
有一天，阿卜杜尔的班上来了位访客。
Mr. Muhammad had lines straighter than straight around his beard and hairline.
穆罕默德先生的胡须和发际线边缘的线条直得不能再直。
His sneakers, like Abdul’s, had not a single crease or scuff.
他的运动鞋和阿卜杜尔的一样，没有一丝褶皱，也没有一点磨损。
Mr. Muhammad was a writer.
穆罕默德先生是一位作家。
He read a story about a watchful boy with hair shaved low and skin the color of night.
他读了一个故事，里面有一个警惕的男孩，头发剃得很短，皮肤像夜晚一样黑。
Women braided hair on front steps in this story,
在这个故事里，女人们坐在门前的台阶上编辫子，
girls with clacking beads jumped rope,
女孩们跳绳时，手链上的珠子发出清脆的碰撞声，
and men in white thobes prayed on the sidewalk outside a full storefront mosque.
穿白色长袍的男人们在挤满人的店铺式清真寺外的人行道上祈祷。（注：在没有清真寺的地方，一些穆斯林移民会把店铺改造成清真寺的样子。）
The boy watched over this community.
男孩守护着这个社区。
“Write new stories with new superheroes,” Mr. Muhammad said.
“用新的超级英雄写新的故事。”穆罕默德先生说。
Abdul pressed his paper down firmly.
阿卜杜尔用力把纸压平。
He could be an author like Mr. Muhammad.
他可以像穆罕默德先生那样成为作家。
But b played tricks again.
但是b又坏了事。
Mr. Muhammad walked around, reading each child’s work.
穆罕默德先生四处走动，阅读每个孩子的作品。
He was getting close.
他快要来了。
Does silent e go here?
不发音的e是在这里吗？
Silent u?
不发音的u呢？
Erase, erase, erase.
擦掉，擦掉，擦掉。
Abdul tried writing neatly.
阿卜杜尔努力把字写工整。
Write, erase, write, erase, erase, rip!
写，擦，写，擦，擦，撕拉！
He slammed down his pencil.
他摔下铅笔。
Jayda and Kwame had pages of words.
杰达和夸梅写了好几页。
Abdul had a hole.
阿卜杜尔却只有一个洞。
Abdul slid down, down, down under the table.
阿卜杜尔往下滑，往下滑，最后躲在了桌子下面。
He imagined an eraser big enough to erase himself.
他想象着一块超大的橡皮擦掉了自己。
