Laurie strolled about Junior High as if it were her personal garden. A happy, charming, centre of attention girl,
I was a nerd. A nerd whom she ordered to do her homework. But I was a nerd with backbone.
“No. I’ll do it with you, so that you can learn, but I’m not going home to run off two copies.”
She made faces and inferences, and ignoring her sarcasm I said,
“I know where you live, it’s only two blocks from my house. We leave school go to your house, do the homework and I’ll go home.”
“Doesn’t sound fun,” she sneered.
I didn’t respond.
About a week later she came to me and said she had decided this was a good idea.
This was a lie.
Her parents had grounded her and allowed no visitors. But I wasn’t a visitor. I was sort of a tutor, role model, helper, whatever.
Each afternoon we walked home from school to her house, to the study, where we would study.
It didn’t take a week before I was Laurie’s bestie. Or so she said.