It’s stiflingly hot, the kind of hot that makes the little waves come off the ground of the playground and the street. You’re standing in front of the sign your mother told you to stand in front of marked “Third Graders”. No one else is. They’re all playing with friends. You haven’t made any friends yet because you’re new. So instead of looking at everyone having a grand old time you decide to stare at your brand new flats with the little pink bows on them. You like this particular shade of pink very much, which is saying something because usually you don’t like pink. It’s too girly for you.
You look up. There is a girl standing in front of you. She has long and shiny brown hair, like on the TV commercials. You wonder if she’s ever modeled for them. She seems to be about your age. You ask her what grade she's going into.
"I'm going into third? What grade are you going to?"
Your answer is the same as hers. This is good, because now you realize you are no longer standing alone in front of the sign. You ask her what teacher she has.
"I have Mr. Verendix! I heard he's great at reading stories! Who's your teacher?”
Again your answers are the same. Could she become your first friend? You aren’t sure. She seems nice enough. And she has a very soft voice that reminds you of your mother. You feel at ease with her.
"That's super cool! We're going to be best buddies then!" You say, the words toppling out of your mouth.
She smiles at this and you smile back.