Poor Friday

Poor Friday

“Ok, I’m going home.”

“Don’t be silly, you can’t.”

“Of course, I can, see feet, walking toward home...”

“You know what I mean. Besides, there’s nobody there now, right?”

“I know where the key is.”

“You can’t stay home alone all day.”

“Well, I don’t want to stand here...”

“The bus will be here anytime now.”

“I’m tired of waiting.”

“We’ve only been here for, what, five minutes?”

“Hours, it feels like hours!”

“Five minutes, maybe six now. What is your problem?

“It’s Tuesday.”

“Oh... it’s Tuesday.”

“I don’t like Tuesday’s anymore.”

“How about Wednesday’s?

“Nope.”

Why don’t you just start using your middle name?

‘It’s Gertrude.”

“What?!”

“After my grandmother...”

“Oh. Well, still...”

“We’re in the second grade, we have ten more years, unless one of us moves, and I know my parents won’t move.”

“Have you met her yet?”

“No, I never want to meet her!”

“Maybe she’s upset too, maybe you could help each other.”

“I guess... I could ask. OK, here’s the bus, when we get to school will you help me find her?”

“Sure. You know, you two could become famous.”

“What? How?”

“How many schools do you think have a Tuesday and a Wednesday in their second grade?”

“Yeah...”

Tuesday and Wednesday finally did meet, and they actually became friends, for a week. Which was when another new family moved into town and registered their own second grader, Friday. Friday was a boy. Which is when Tuesday and Wednesday stopped being just friends, and became partners.

Poor Friday.