My response to the Day 14 writing prompt over at The Community Storyboard.
She was supposed to be perfect. In my last clear memory of her, when we were both high school seniors, she was driving us to our English class at the local community college. We were in a special group of students given permission to take classes outside the high school. She was using her left foot to work the brake, her right foot always remaining on the gas peddle. It wasn’t how she was taught to drive, but she told me it made sense to her.
She had a wistful look on her face as she steered us along the winding road. She was smaller than me, with tight dark blond curls, and a serious face. She hadn’t grown out of her tomboy figure, small and lean and agile. She was one of the best cheerleaders, second only to her older sister. She wanted to be valedictorian, but we didn’t…
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