Swings, Sweatshirts, and Shame

When I was six years old, I was a first-grader in Mrs. Stamets’ class. My closest friend in class was a petite spitfire named Danielle. She had flaming red hair chopped to her chin. I was timid, and she was bossy. We worked because she liked to take charge, and I would put up with her demands to have a playmate at recess. Every girl in our class loved the swings. We’d race out at dismissal to snag the swings, [...]