Chapter 3November 1993
We were sitting together on the pier sometime in November the first time Connie met the people I once considered my friends.
Friendship never came easily to me. I knew I wasn’t a dislikeable person. I was funny and kind, even if I was also awkward and stiff. I had a general tendency toward shyness and introversion as a child and it took me a longer time than most to shake off that juvenile urge to hide away alone when faced with any kind of social activity. That wasn’t to say that I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up; I did. Every girl in my Primary School class considered themselves to be my friend, but I never had a best friend. I was the third wheel my entire childhood, an unenviable position at any age. I latched on to other friendships as a tag-along, som
