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“Tell me about the rest of the day,” I goaded her, “Do they have a nice playground?” See most parents ask about the teacher, but I knew. I remembered what was really important, I thought. By the time we reached home I learned the playground was nice (good) and the teacher was ugly (I laughed.). Mrs. Pruitt was ugly.

That night as I tucked her in, Olivia turned to me and asked if she’d ever have a friend again. A friend as good as Granma. I tried not to answer meanly. “Grandma loves you very much, but you will definitely have a friend again. Many friends,” I said. “Or one really good one. Even better than Grandma, I promise,” I repeated. This obsession with finding a friend was only just starting. It was normal, especially for kids of her age, to worry about making friends, I thought. That was what preschool was for.

 

* This is part 2 of a short story. Continue reading here.

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