Page 117 - The Life of A Teenage Girl (Stories About Finding Your Way)

SO… THAT WAS FRIENDSHIP?

He turned to me and said, “Yes. In fact, I used to be in it.”
“Really?” I stopped cleaning the dining table.

“Yep. I was one of the best competitors—and a coach. Boy, do I

wish I could go back into the past.”
He looked up, pretending to imagine his younger self.

“Oh, wow. So you actually retired then?”
“Of course! Look at me, I’m fifty-five years old. I can’t play

anymore.”
“Well, I’m sure you still know some moves, right?”

“Uh, yes. But I can’t do them because I’m old—how many times

do I have to tell you? Can’t you hear well?!”
My voice went low. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

When we finished cleaning, we tried to advise Mr. Frank on
some tips to prevent his apartment from getting dirty quickly. But he

wouldn’t listen.
“It’s just a little information. I know you don’t want dirt in your

room,” I said to him.

“What? I am not taking advice from thirteen–year–olds!”
“C’mon, sir. I know you don’t like it and don’t want us here, so

please, let’s just get this over with. I promise it’ll help you,” Elisha

muttered.
“And there’s nothing wrong with thirteen–year–olds advising

elderly people,” Madelyn added, crossing her arms.
“… Fine. But make it quick,” Mr. Frank said, looking annoyed.

After all that dramatic scene, we walked back home.

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