Kenna- 10 Years Old
My thin jacket is no match for the chilly wind coming off of the Hudson. I dig my face deeper into my scarf and hurry along the path. I can feel the heat of my grandmother’s anger chasing me like a forest fire.
Mari Doyle, the most popular girl in school, asked me if I was going to the party at the rec center on Saturday night. The community always put on a holiday pageant and all of the kids got dressed up and drank warm punch and cookies. I was never allowed to go since my family could a)never afford a fancy dress and b) because I never had anyone to go with. My face turned bright red, and I stammered out some stupid excuse and ran away. In my attempt to avoid further embarrassment, I left my small fanny pack at my desk- with my house keys in it. When I got home, my
