Essay on Kate And I Are Watching Tv At Her House
“Hey,” Kate turns towards me and lowers her voice, “would you wanna go to my friend’s party?”
“Uh, ya, sure. Who is it?” I say.
“Oh just Tom and all them.”
“Oh sure, ok.” I say. Kate stands up, pulling me with her to her room. Kate’s house is a two bedroom apartment in a seedy area where her mom works in exchange for living here, just until her mom can take her elsewhere. We go into her room, biggest room in the apartment, thanks to her temper tantrums, where she changes out of her bumble bee pajama pants and T-shirt into shorts so small I can see the pockets and a tank top that barely covers her size A training bra.
I met Kate a few years back when we were just little eleven year olds. We met at daycare. We were too old to play with the blocks and colour in the already full colouring books and we were too young to be home alone so our parents sent us there. I remember her coming into the tiger room where I was. Her messy tangled corn yellow hair cascading down her back and covering part of her freckled face. She nervously walked into the room. The daycare aid introduced her to everyone and asked her to introduce herself and tell us a little about herself. In her southern accent she told us her name was Kate Myers and that she was from Alabama. She almost immediately talked to me. She talked and talked about all her friends in Alabama and home she was going back to visit later in the summer. The end of…