My First Best Friend
I walked outside in my bright pink Winnie the Pooh jacket and light washed jeans. I was wearing light up sketchers and a scarf to match my jacket. I always hated wearing the scarf but my mom never let me out of the house without it. To be honest, I always ended up taking it off when she wasn't paying attention anyway.
It had to be late September; normally it wasn't freezing yet at this time of year, however, we were 15 minutes north of Chicago so the weather fluctuating sort of explained itself.
When I got outside, I began walking straight to the bushes that I normally hid my barbies in to play with over the summer, however, something else caught my eye instead.
I saw a girl, and she looked to be about my age. She was a little taller than me and had dark brown hair. She was wearing a purple jacket and jeans with no scarf. She was across the street standing in front of a bush with a bucket in her hands.
That's when I said forget the barbies and bolted to the sandbox in my backyard instead. I grabbed my favorite, lime green pale and ran back to the front of the house.
What was I going to say when I got to her? I felt the butterflies moving through my bloodstream.
I walked to the curb, scared to step in the street without my dad's hand to hold, but held my breath and looked both ways: left, right, left, and crossed.
I watched my shoes light up with every terrifying step I took and the next thing I knew, there she was, twelve inches away from me, smiling.
"Hi, I'm Jenna,” I said to the girl who wore an excited expression on her face. I wondered what her name was.
"Jenna, hm, I've never met anyone named Jenna before. Hi, I'm Rachel. Can I call you J? You can call me R," and that's when the butterflies decided to fly away. "I'm here picking berries, wanna help?" she asked.
"Yeah, that sounds fun, R," I said to her.
And that’s the story of how I met my first best friend.
I walked outside in my bright pink Winnie the Pooh jacket and light washed jeans. I was wearing light up sketchers and a scarf to match my jacket. I always hated wearing the scarf but my mom never let me out of the house without it. To be honest, I always ended up taking it off when she wasn't paying attention anyway.
It had to be late September; normally it wasn't freezing yet at this time of year, however, we were 15 minutes north of Chicago so the weather fluctuating sort of explained itself.
When I got outside, I began walking straight to the bushes that I normally hid my barbies in to play with over the summer, however, something else caught my eye instead.
I saw a girl, and she looked to be about my age. She was a little taller than me and had dark brown hair. She was wearing a purple jacket and jeans with no scarf. She was across the street standing in front of a bush with a bucket in her hands.
That's when I said forget the barbies and bolted to the sandbox in my backyard instead. I grabbed my favorite, lime green pale and ran back to the front of the house.
What was I going to say when I got to her? I felt the butterflies moving through my bloodstream.
I walked to the curb, scared to step in the street without my dad's hand to hold, but held my breath and looked both ways: left, right, left, and crossed.
I watched my shoes light up with every terrifying step I took and the next thing I knew, there she was, twelve inches away from me, smiling.
"Hi, I'm Jenna,” I said to the girl who wore an excited expression on her face. I wondered what her name was.
"Jenna, hm, I've never met anyone named Jenna before. Hi, I'm Rachel. Can I call you J? You can call me R," and that's when the butterflies decided to fly away. "I'm here picking berries, wanna help?" she asked.
"Yeah, that sounds fun, R," I said to her.
And that’s the story of how I met my first best friend.