Confessions of a latch key kid's best friend...
My buddy motions to me, a finger to his lips. Be quiet, even though no one is home. “What,” I hiss back, in all my ten-year-old impatience. “Look,” he whispers excitedly, pointing to his dad’s sock drawer. “What is it?” He slaps his forehead as though to say, “This kid is such a moron,” even though... Sign in to see full entry.