Her toy room is in perfect order. She has everything imaginable. I share a room with my sister. Our room has such an issue with disaster that my mom and grandma took a large garbage bag to it once. I’m not sure how many toys we had after that but I’m pretty sure my pink Barbie car was one of the toys confiscated or maybe it was my sister’s Tonka truck. That thing was solid. We used to sit on it.
My “friend” has a toy room, a bedroom and no siblings. She loves Gilligan’s island. So do I. We watch the movie episode where they get rescued; I think if I remember it right then she locks me in her bathroom because it’s past time for me to go home. “Let me out.” I tell her. Her back is to the door, blocking my way.
“No.” she says.
“I’ll scream.”
“So.”
“I’ll punch you in the face.”
“I’ll tell my mom.” She says.
“Oh.” My whole body hangs with defeat. My mom’s going to kill me.
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