I play soccer in the field every recess break. I'm the best player in the second grade.
Emery sits on the ground, dry or muddy, and watches. He says he loves how I play. He never wants to join in himself, though, and I don't force him. I suppose he's never had anyone teach him.
He's curious about everything, always asking, what's that, Brandon? when he doesn't understand something.
Emery doesn't have a daddy and people say that's why he's so weak and effeminate. Well, he does, but his daddy left him. His mom did, too. He lives with his grandmother, who fosters kittens. They currently have seven kittens: Bambi, Smittens, Beans, Picklet, Mochi, Squiggles and Scribbles. He tells me about them and how he loves caring for them. They need to be bottle fed every two hours and rubbed with tissue paper in order to pee and poo.
I don't think his family is very rich because he doesn't wear very nice clothes or pack a lot for lunch. Sometimes, if kids are making fun of what he's wearing, I switch with him in the bathroom. (They don't laugh after that.) And I always split my lunch with him.