SOY

I didn’t see the frog for the rest of the day. Maybe it stayed in Miss Weaver’s hair
or maybe it jumped back through the window when I wasn’t looking. All day long,
I expected her to find it and scream, but she never did.

When the bell rang, I ran out of the school onto the side of the yard with bushes. I
had seen frogs hide in there before, but there was no sign of it. Truthfully, I
wouldn’t have known what to do with the frog if I had found it. Would I capture it?
Would I ask it questions? If I was caught talking to a frog outside the school, I think
people might finally start to remember me, but in a #donttalktothefrogkid kind of
way.

I liked most of the kids in my class just fine, but I was only really close with one.
His name was Soy, and he was definitely, without a doubt, my best friend. Soy had
kind of reddish-blond hair and a round face. He and I had been friends since
preschool, and I knew that I could talk to him about anything. The downside to that
was that he also felt he could talk to me about anything. Since he had eight older
brothers and two older sisters, his questions were always about things that I didn’t
understand.