P.S I'm Sorry Drew
But mother and father had other ideas. That was the summer that I was to break out of my metaphorical shell, I say metaphorical because I am not a shrimp nor a snail nor a turtle. But now thinking about it, I think I'd quite like a shell. Maybe a pink one with purple detailing and blue sparkles and... that's not the point at all. I was perfectly content being the awkward child that I was, yet my parents weren't. I presume it stemmed from the time I made Drew Rogers cry. The spring of 2012.
Drew was a small thing, a cross between a micro pig and a stick insect. (Although I doubt that combination would ever happen) He was pale, skinny, surprisingly athletic. But I had managed to break him. I had truly broken him that April. Drew was also a very social child and I wish he hadn't been. He'd have probably survived the encounter if he wasn't so intent on talking to me. If he wasn't so stupidly social. So when he arrived at my door step for my 11th birthday party with his smile plastered on his freckled face, conversation threatening to spew out of his chapped lips. He became a casualty to my awkward ways.
What do you think of the story so far?