#absolutekitten

**obviously not her real name but a name I felt fit her**also no crazy stuff at this point so don't get too excited**

i met her in passing in 5th grade. She made fun of me for having hairy legs when i tried to talk to her friend. Obiously we didn't talk much after that. It wasn't until 6th grade, when our teacher sat her next to me as punishment, that our friendship began.

Summer had to talk in class, it's just who she was. Chipmunk cheeks on a pale round face; a small top with thick thighs. The opposite of me at the time with my c-cups that had come in from over the summer and toned soccer legs. Everything she wore clung to her and i wore the same black hoodie that made me look like a sack in 100° weather for weeks. A nervous know it all and a bubbly artist. But there was no one else around so she had to talk to me. And she did.

At first it was just the necessities; in class work, asking me for the homework answers, using me for the test answers. It never bothered me. i was an arrogant ass that thought cheaters only cheated themselves, no skin off my back. And it made her nicer to me, i had no down side. It grew though.

For me it was easy; of the two friends i had managed to make the year prior, one was in a different class and the other changed states. As much as i was the only outlet for her, she was the only one for me. i showed an interest in her art. To this day i find her art beautiful. She really responded to that.

After some time at each other's homes for a project, a lot changed. She encouraged me to dress at school the same as i did at home and started to show me off to her friend group. Everyone was nicer once my boobs came out. And i responded in kind. i became more extroverted and started keeping up more with trends. i became part of the in crowd. And we just got closer.

We shared clothes, drew on each other's legs, and gushed about music idols. Everything was so perfectly normal. The best part was despite our differences, our traumas were very similar. Crazy step dads, dick whipped moms, watching them use weed and alcohol as therapy, wanting to runaway to dads in different states but knowing our moms would fall apart. Yeah. So much for opposites.