Boing Boing Boing.

Her sunshine colored hair curls and uncurls, curls and uncurls. Like a pogo stick or a spring. My mud colored pigtails don’t do that. But Rachel’s hair does.

And even if I tell my mom I want my hair brushed like Rachel’s hair and even if I sit real still and make sure never to yell "ow" when she pulls out a knot, my mom can’t make it like Rachel’s hair.

Rachel is my sort of cousin, and she’s a lot older than me. But not as old as mom or dad. She’s in high school and she’s a cheerleader and you know what that means? She gets to be a cheerleader and cheer and jump and wear a fluffy little skirt everyday, not just on Halloween. I could only be a cheerleader on Halloween, and it’s not even real when I do it for Halloween.

You know what else? Rachel can drive.

Plus, Rachel is really nice because she always talks to me at church. And not just fake listening--she really listens.And she’s pretty. She gets to go to dances and wear a really long dress that looks like a princess dress and she has a lot of shoes, like a million pairs to chose from.

And you know what?

I wanna be just like Rachel when I grow all the way up. Even if my hair won’t boing.

Boing Boing Boing.