The Friendless Week
by Erin Fanning
On Kate’s first day of school, Tara said, “I’ll be your friend if you climb to the top of the jungle gym.” All the other kids stood behind Tara. They watched Kate or looked at the ground.
The jungle gym soared above Kate. It pierced the sky. It touched the clouds. But Kate wanted a friend. She hated being the new girl.
So she climbed and climbed until she reached the top of the jungle gym. “I did it,” Kate called down to Tara. “Are we friends?”
Tara fiddled with her braid. “Maybe.” She walked away. The other kids trailed behind her.
Kate barely heard her. She was admiring a dragon-cloud prancing across the sky.
On Kate’s second day of school, Tara said, “I’ll be your friend if you touch a worm.” Some of the boys and girls laughed. Others shuddered.
Kate wasn’t afraid. She knew all about worms from fishing with Grandma. She dug in the moist grass. A pink worm slithered out of the hole. She held it up high.
“Too gross,” Tara said. She and the other kids ran across the field.
Kate frowned. The worm squirmed in her fingers. It reminded her of the fish she caught with Grandma. She forgot about Tara and smiled. Grandma would always be her friend.
On Kate’s third day of school, Tara said, “I’ll be your friend if you walk on your hands from the slide to the swings.”
It looked like a million miles to Kate. She could barely do a handstand. Still, she wanted a friend and Tara had them all.
She placed her hands on the ground and kicked her legs into the air. She tumbled onto her side.
Tara shook her head. The other kids laughed. Kate sniffed back a tear. She turned around and practiced handstands.
On Kate’s fourth day of school, Tara said, “I’ll be your friend if you eat a grasshopper.”
“Eeeew,” a girl said. The rest of the kids clapped.
Grasshoppers leaped in the grass. Kate scooped one up and cupped her hands around it. It bounced against her fingers.
“Eat it, eat it,” Tara chanted.
Kate watched the grasshopper, so little and harmless. She squatted in the grass and opened her hands. The grasshopper jumped away.
Tara shrugged. The bell rang and everyone ran to the school building. Kate shuffled after them. She’d never have a friend.
A grasshopper sprang out of the grass. Kate wondered how it could leap so high. What kind of friend would ask her to eat one? She hopped all the way to her classroom.
On Kate’s fifth day of school, Tara said, “I’ll be your friend if—.”
Kate shook her head. “No.”
Maybe being alone wasn’t so bad. There were clouds to read, fishing trips to plan, and worms and grasshoppers to study.
She climbed the jungle gym. From the top, the sky looked like a lake. She saw Grandma in the clouds with her fishing pole.
Two girls joined Kate. Tara stared up at them. The rest of the kids kicked a soccer ball.
One girl asked Kate what the worm felt like. The other said she’d teach Kate how to walk on her hands.
“Come on up,” Kate called down to Tara, who looked so tiny all by herself. “We’ll be your friends.”
About the Writer
When not reading or writing, Erin Fanning can be found skiing, biking, hiking or kayaking in Idaho’s mountains or Michigan’s northern woods.
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Image: “A worm in the hand” by Brendon Connelly, CC BY-SA 2.0 Deed, via Flickr.com.
