First grade. The teacher thought I was too smart for my own good. She told me to stop learning cursive.
Two months into the year. Nicki and Danielle and I still got along, bonding over ponies.
Three months. Monica joined us.
Five months. We fell into our groove. The art cart, and drawing flowers. I liked school. It was fun.
The year was as typical as it could be.
Summer came. More play group. More of my mom's friend's kids.
YOU ARE READING
people
Short StoryPeople are everywhere. They interact with you, all the time. But how many do you know? how many know you? This is my story. Autobiographical, but I changed the names. Do not fault anyone in this story for something I did.
