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I grew up on a Military Base, yeah I'm one of those Army Brats you hear about. The families that grew up there in Base Housing, the kids we were all friends. It was Officer Country, my dad was a Major, everybody on our block wasn't lower than a First Louie! Unless you counted the Command Sergeant Major he was the Highest Enlisted man on the base where half of the guys had never seen Action in Battle the CSM had been in Korea, Vietnam he had the scars and the medals to prove it. My best friend Joesph was his son. We were two of the three musketeers my other friend was named Silvio Garcia was the third. His dad was a Captain. He was Hispanic but the weird thing was his mother was white he had dark green eyes and brown hair, he could pass for a white boy, we kinda forgot he was Hispanic. I think at times even he did. I know that sounds racist but we kind of forgot that kids were different color we all saw Khaki. And rank insignia if it was an Officer you respected that rank. Now like I said Joseph was my best friend, he had a sister Camille, she went by Cami. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on in my 10 short years of life. Yeah, you could say I had a huge crush on her. Cami was 7. 3 years younger than me. It didn't matter for some reason something didn't work. She was in diapers still at 7, oh don't get me wrong Joeseph was a bedwetter Silvio as well so what my older sister was as well and she was 13, I was the weird kid I wasn't a bedwetter. Any way my 11th birthday was coming up I invited my friends, Cami was included. We went off base to the local Pizza parlor this was one of those places that had rides and games. You got points and could turn them in for prizes. We had just been informed by my dad that he was being promoted to Lt. Col. But with the promotion a transfer to Guam went with it. I didn't even know where the hell Guam was? I was bummed out at my birthday party! We would be gone before Joe's birthday and Silvio's wasn't until November. I was sitting there chewing on a piece of pizza. Cami came she sat a table over. She lifted up her leg she had skinned her knee. I got a good peek at her wet diaper. I don't know why but it kind of excited me. At 11 I got a stiffy from seeing a girl in a diaper. I looked away. Cami came and set by me. "Why are you so quiet Bennie?" "Just found out my dads getting promoted and tranfered." "Where to?" "Guam!" I said. "That's okay my mom and dad are getting a divorce. My mom's moving into town with me!" "Is Joe moving with you?" I asked concerned. "No, Joe is only my step brother. He belongs to daddy, I belong to mommy." "Oh. I didn't know!" I said. "Where ever you go I will miss you Bennie. You treated me good not many of my brothers other friends did, a lot of them made fun of me because I'm still in diapers! How come you never made fun of my diapers Bennie?" "I figured you already knew you wore them, you didn't need me reminding you. Plus my sister Caroline she wets her bed as well I got one of the worse spankings I ever got making fun of Caroline and her bedwetting. Kind of learned my lesson. Besides you were Joe's little sister my best friend!" "I like you Bennie, I guess I've always liked you!" "You know I guess I've had a crush on you Cami! Too bad were leaving here so quick." I turned the points I had gotten I got this cheap ring but It had little pink things I'm sure were supposed to be diamonds. I gave it to Cami. I don't know why but it reminded me of her! My dad was stationed in Guam for 6 years he tried and tried to get his Full Bird. In the military as an Officer if you don't promote within a certain amount of time you have to resign your commission. My dad was now a civilian. He had worked with computers. He got a great job making more than the military ever paid him. We returned to the states we ended up in Arizona, where Guam was Hot and Humid, Arizona was just plain hot. I wasn't used to it. I graduated high school I went college then, there was no way I was going to stay in Arizona. I moved to Seattle. I had been a photographer in Guam and majored in Journalism in college. I had got a good job with the Seattle PD I got to take those lovely Crime scene photos. You know the kind, people killing other's if it needed pictures I got to do it. I took more pictures of homicides, suicides you name it. I was close to the place where I lived! I grew up around here I tried to find some of my old Friends. Silvio was now stationed at the base he was in the army enlisted. He had lost track of Joe years ago his dad had been moved to Germany. All he knew was his dad retired soon after Germany. I was able to get a cheap apartment it wasn't in the best of neighborhoods. At least I didn't have to travel far for pictures of crime scenes. I had been at work and came home to find I had been a victim of a crime myself. My tv, stereo, DVD player my computer, everything gone. It was a good thing that I had my camera equipment with me or I would of been out a job! I decided to spend the extra couple of hundred a month and move to a better place. I moved, what the theives had left me with. It was a much better neighborhood but now I had to commute to the crime scenes. The only local scene I got turned out to be a suicide. The day I moved in there was another tenant moving in she had had two boxes her face was covered I saw a foot feeling the curb before stepping up. I said let me help you I took the top box. And I assisted the cute blond into her apartment that was above mine. I helped her get the rest of her boxes out of her car and into her apartment. The girl was staring at me. She said one word "Bennie?" I looked closer this girl was beautiful. It came to me "Cami?" I said just as unsure as she was we smiled at each other we were Old New Neighbors!

Steven Allen was praying "Dear god, l'm not much of a prayer, in fact l dont even know if l'm doing it right! I hope you hear my prayer. God l am so lonely since you took my Sheila to be with you. I guess what l'm praying for is to meet another woman like Sheila. I have thought about ending my life, but l know thats wrong, my friend Jeremy told me suicide is a permanet fix to a temporary problem! Please god, bless me with a new person to share my life with. I wouldnt care if she comes with a few problems! Just as long as she loves me as much as l will love her! If it's not asking to much please help her be as beautiful as Sheila! Amen! Hopefully god will answer my prayer! He thoght. Will god answer a prayer like that?" Soon Steven fell asleep. In another part of town. Mary Grey was praying. "Dear god. I know l have been praying a lot as of late, since Harry has passed on, l didnt know he was in debt as far as he was. I am now living on the street as l have lost my home, l have no money to even get a cheap hotel room. All l have are the clothes on my back. Dear lord l am destitute! I'm living on the street, l'm cold, I'm hungry, l dont want to steal or have to sell my body, but god l don't want to die of starvation, or freeze to death, l havent slept in two days, you know why. I dont want to get hypothermic. I'm praying for a way off the streets. One that doesn't require me to rob a bank or become a hooker! Please help me dear god! Amen! Steve and Mary both had a dream, they dreamed of each other as an answer to their prayers! Steve was walking he couldnt get this woman out of his mind, he was begining to wonder if he was out of his mind? Mary wondered who is this guy? What is he going to do, give me some money and get something to eat and a cheap place to stay? Then what, l will be back in the same boat in a couple of days. They rounded a corner and Bam! They had ran into somebody. "I'm sorry they both said, my mind is a million miles away the both said!" The laughed when they both said the same thing. They both started walking away. Wait a minute, that's the guy/ woman that l drempt about. They turned and both went to talk. "Ladies before gentlemen!" Said Steve! "Alright then said Mary, l drempt about you last night!" "Your going to think this is weird but I dreamed about you last night?" Said Steve! What were you doing right before you dreamed about me?" Asked Mary? "Praying! Said Steve. You?" "Praying!" Said Mary! "What were you praying for?" Asked Steve. "My husband recently died, his company was in big time debt. It took everything that we owned, our savings, our home to pay off his debts. I've been homeles for the past few days! You?" My wife died about 9 months ago, l'm missing her l'm really lonely, I've been thinking suicide is looking better and better!" "Becoming a hooker is sounding better and better to me, at least l will have something to eat!" Said Mary. "Come with me!" Said Steve. There was a cafe just down the road. Just looking at the menu, the pictures of the foods were making Mary salavate. "Excuse me!" Said Mary as she began to drool. Steve ordered Two steaks Medium well, Loaded Baked Potatos, Salads with Ranch? He said kind of asking Mary. Steve heard her stomach growl! He guessed he had ordered right. "Since you dont have a home, will you move into mine. Don't worry l'm not out to seduce you, all l ask is please dont steal from me. I was dating a girl she raided my wifes jewelery box. All she had to do was ask, l would of given them to her. I had her arrested! I hate being stole from!" " l was praying that someghing would come along so l wouldnt have to sell my body or start to steal. I dont believe in it!" Mary said. Their meals came Mary didn't want to look like she was starving. Even though she was she ate at a normal tempo. She guessed that her stomach had shrunk she felt full and only ate about 1/2 to 3/4 of her meal. She got a doggie bag to go, she didnt have a dog, she was saving the rest for later. They walked to a fairly nice place. Steve took her to his condo. Steve showed her a room. "I guess this is your room!" "Steve before you go l think it's only fair that l tell you, Mary blushed. Steve l still wet my bed." "Not a problem check the bed it has a rubber sheet and in the closet you will find some Adult Briefs!" "How did you know?" Mary asked? "I didn't, my wife Sheila when she got sick l kept her in here, the rubber sheet and Briefs were hers as her illness got worse so did she, she used them. I haven't had the heart to toss anything as yet, guess it was a good thing l hadn't tossed anything. In the dressers, there are panties, bras, pajamas, in the closet there are dresses, l think everything will fit, go ahead and use them, l can't!" Steve smiled!

Monday June the 6th at 8:30 am. The receptionist for Doctor Lewis said. Great I thought I have to take 2 more hours off of work. I work as a Physical Trainer at the gym. I'm about 6 foot 1, 245 pounds I have muscles in all the right places. I'm 24 years old. Dark hair, I could probably have any girl I want, except for one reason at 24 years old, the reason I'm seeing Doctor Lewis is because at 24 I'm stil a bedwetter! Dr. Lisa Lewis is a Urologist. My brother Gary was a bedwetter as well he came here and found out that he wasn't producing very much diuretic Horemone. He doesn't wet his bed anymore after getting what he needed. They ran the tests and in about 3 weeks I hope to be umung the dry sleepers like Gary. I carry on doing my job, I wonder what these people that I work with would think if they knew I still wet my bed? I mean I'm built but I can't hold my pee at night. I'm strong but weak. 3 weeks later I'm back at Doctor Lewis's Office. I'm sitting there and a girl comes out she is crying, wonder what happened? I offer her my handkerchief. "Thank you!" She says. She sits and wipes her eyes with my handkerchief. "Is everything okay?" I ask? "No, Doctor Lewis said she couldn't help me." She said. "What's the matter, why can't she help you?" The lady blushed "Uhh, she can't help me, stop." "Stop what," I asked forgetting that Doctor Lewis specializes in bedwetting. The girl blushed an even deeper shade of red. "She can't help me stop..... wetting my bed." "She told me that, it isn't the Horemone thing. My bladder is big enough she said medically there is no reason why I still wet my bed, I'm 23 years old!" "I'm 24, I still do to!" "Greg Spencer!" They called my name. "The Doctor will see you now!" "My turn" I said now dreading the trip. Dr. Lisa Lewis met me. We went into an exam room. "Greg I have run the tests and frankly there isn't much I can do to help you unlike your brother you produce diuretic Horemones, your bladder is structurally sound. I can't find a single reason why you would still be wetting your bed. I know knowing that doesn't mean you don't. But still there is nothing I can do to help you!" Now I know how that woman felt in the waiting room, I felt like someone had just kicked me in the guts. I walked out and the lady was still sitting there. "I still have your hankie! Doesnt look like you had much more luck than me!" "No, your right. I didn't ." "Sorry, I'm Rachel and your?" "Greg Spencer!" "That's right, I did hear them call your name. I'm Rachel Baker by the way! You want to grab some brunch!" "Sounds like a great idea, I don't want to be left alone for a while!" "Neither do I said Rachel!" We went to IHOP which was close to the medical center.

This is a story I have been wanting to write for a while. This is the true story of how I met and fell in love with my current fiancé/mommy. Of coarse I’ve changed up a few things to keep it interesting, But for the most part I will be keeping it factual. For those who are not patient readers, I warn you this will be a slow burn and there is no abdl content in this first post. I’m not sure how often I will write because I am only able to write when I feel it. Well enough prattling on. I hope you can all enjoy this story. ========================================================================================================================= It is hard to find the words to start this particular love story, for it is in fact a love that will endure all the storms and weathers of life. However, I feel like I’m getting too sappy with this introduction so I will just start my story with a bowl of pudding. Levi: I found this recipe on Facebook and I was thinking about making it tonight Ashlie: What kind of recipe??? Levi: It’s like a banana pudding/Reeses peanut butter cup kinda thing Ashlie: Sounds just vague enough to be good ? Levi: I feel like you’re patronizing me... Ashlie: I would never! Levi: Yeah sure... Well if you want any, you can stop by and pick some up. Levi put his phone down, looked over at the pudding supplies, and sighed. What was he doing? She had a boyfriend and, even if that hadn't been the case, she had turned down all of his previous invitations to hang out. The glass of wine shimmered in his hand as he swilled the contents. He had been drinking a lot as of late; a side effect of the depression that came with being single for too long. His phone pinged again and he picked it back up. Ashlie: I’ll be in town maybe I’ll pick some up after you’re done This didn’t really get his hopes up as she had accepted his request to hang out a time before, only to cancel the plans before the they came to fruition. Levi: Well just give me a heads up if you do decide to come over It was better, he had learned, not to get his hopes up, and instead of starting on the pudding, Levi began making his usual fare of Hamburger Helper, while continuing to sip on his glass of wine. The kitchen, he found himself in, was small, and not dirty enough to be called messy but just enough to be called “lived in.” Living in a house with two other bachelors (whom were not home at the moment), there was no real need to keep the place spotless, and Levi wasn't really a big fan of deep cleaning anyway. However, the small kitchen worked for Levi and his dinner was soon simmering on top of the oven. Levi was grabbing a bowl to start dishing up when his phone went off again. Ashlie: Alright give me your address so I can come get some of this pudding I’ve heard so much about “Shit!” Levi nearly dropped his bowl, as he looked over at the waiting pudding supplies sitting neatly in the plastic bag. Levi put down the bowl and quickly texted his address and then adding apologetically. Levi: Sorry I didn’t expect you to come honestly. I haven’t started on the pudding yet Ashlie: Yea of little faith well I guess that just means I’m going to have to help you make it. What have you been doing all this time if you haven’t been making pudding??? Levi blushed but thought it was best to keep being honest. Levi: I’ve been drinking wine and making hamburger helper Ashlie: So fancy!!! Well that just means we can drink wine while we make pudding Who is this girl, Levi thought and he ran to his room to change his clothes and put on cologne. Should she really be hanging out with me alone if she has a boyfriend? Does that make me a scumbag? Why am I getting my hopes up, I barely know her? This was true, the only interaction he had had with Ashlie up to this point had been at his work. Levi worked at a plasma center and this girl was one of the regular donors that came in twice a week. They talked a little bit here and there, but they never had time to really have any meaningful conversation. It was only recently that Levi had worked up enough courage to add her on Facebook, and after seeing that she was single on there, he started talking to her. However, when Levi was out drinking at the bars, he had gotten more gutsy than he would have normally been and asked her out on a date over text. It was then that she had burst his bubble and revealed that the statement on Facebook was in fact false, and to his disappointment and embarrassment, she had a boyfriend. The memory of exchange flashed through Levi’s mind as he pulled a new shirt over his head. “This is just a friend thing,” he said out loud, exiting his room, “I’m not going to try anything, and I won’t let her try anything.” Cheating, or letting someone cheat was the worst thing someone could do. Levi had unfortunately had experience with this in the past and it made him even more cautious of his current situation. There was a knock on the door and Levi jumped. That was quick. Levi walked over the door and opened it to reveal the tall, red-headed, and honestly beautiful Ashlie. Being tall all his life, it was refreshing to finally meet a girl close to his height. No, Levi had to remind himself, she’s just a friend. Stop looking at her as some girl you have “found.” “Alright you slacker,” Ashlie grinned and entered the house, “lets get started on this pudding. Oh,” she spotted the, still half full, glass of wine sitting on the table, “and the wine.”

My name is Roylance Irish Jr. and I am a bedwetter. I have not always been a bedwetter in fact I practicality toilet trained myself, according to my parents at about age 3 I got tired of the irritations I got on my outside thighs from a hot diaper. My mother said that I began to take my diapers off before I was wet and started peeing in the toilet like I had seen others do. I grew up on a ranch in Southern Utah near Bryce Canyon National Park. My dad was a farmer/ rancher and would ride in local rodeos. I began following in his footsteps riding in rodeos to, and actually wasn't bad. I married my High School sweetheart her name was Nancy. On one fine summer night I was competing in a rodeo at Ruby's Inn just outside of Bryce Canyon National Park, they had a weekly rodeo for the tourists to watch. I was contending for All Around Cowboy but this time there was a new contestant that was just dogging my scores. I was by choice a saddle bronc rider that was my favorite. I attempted to leave the bull riding alone and I knew if I didn't enter the bull riding that he would win the all around cowboy and I would lose the $2300 purse that went with it. So I entered the bull riding. I have a deep respect for the bulls, horses don't tend to chase you down and attempt to kill you. I drew a bull named Texas Tornado. This bull was known for his spinning to the left out of the gate. For those of you not familiar with rodeo, bulls tend to follow a pattern during a ride like spinning to the left. Now this was a good/ bad bull to draw, good because he was good to get points from and bad because this bull had a history. He had killed a rider a few years earlier he had caught the guy with his horns in the chest after the ride he didn't gore him the guy got the wind knocked out of him said he needed to sit down for a minute when someone checked the rider again he was dead an autopsy revealed massive internal injuries. I had drawn this bull. In the gate he was being ornery kicking at me as I was getting my rig around him and when I started to climb on his back he was ready to go. When riding a bull you wrap your rope around your left hand if your right handed like me. You tighten it as much as you can tying yourself in by wrapping the rope around your wrist and then tucking it back into your hand, remembering to go to the left when you dismount or tending to hang yourself up meaning your still attached to the bull because you rope is still tied to your hand. The chute was opened I had to ride this bull for 8 seconds that seems an eternity. About 3 seconds in I feel a sting on my cheek a dang bee had just stung me apparently we had run into the bee while spinning. At that time I lost my awareness of where I was at, which was atop of 2300 pound killer bull. I started to come off but came off the wrong side, I was hung up and dangling like a rag doll just being tossed around like I was nothing and not 6'3" 235 pound man like I was. I remember the rodeo clowns came to help me, most people think they're there for comic relief, they're there to save idiot cowboys like me. About that time I felt my shoulder go, popped right out of place and it hurt like hell. That was the last thing I remembered for three days!

Greetings, fellow deviants! I come to you today with a brand new story! "But RambleLamb, you still haven't finished your other story!" - many someones, probably. To that I say shhhhh, I'm doing things and that should be good enough. Before I submit this thing I'm undertaking, I want to thank @bbykimmy for providing the names for our two leads, they're very pretty names and all credit goes to her for them. <3 My hope with this story is that I'll be able to tap into some raw and real emotion to elevate the story to something better than a fake Civil War documentary. I touched on something when I wrote one of my very dark short stories, but that emotion was angry and cathartic whereas I hope to touch on something weepy and fulfilling for this particular story. I plan for this to be a very long story, and that obviously means it won't be jumping into the realm of "OMG lesbian diaper sex!!!!!1!!!" until much, much later, but there will be lesbian diaper sex and by that I mean there will be diapers that identify as lesbian unfolded and touching padding, spoiler alert, everyone now needs a towel. Okay, I think I've properly set the bar for expectation and given the people what they didn't ask for, so if everyone is ready, please enjoy the story and be sure to comment if you have time or desire to let me know how bad/good I'm doing, if you have any likes to give and @bbykimmyhasn't posted anything to claim them, I'd very much appreciate one or more floating my way. A.B + D.L. = <3 By: RambleLamb Part One: About a Girl Chapter One: New Kid in School "Numbers, letters, learn to spell Nouns and books and show and tell At playtime we will throw the ball Back to class, through the hall" The White Stripes - "We're Going to be Friends" Beginnings are always the hardest part of storytelling, at least for me they are. When I sit down to write I'm filled with a near limitless number of ideas about where things could or should end up, and the myriad of branching pathways that can lead my characters to those ends makes me hopeful that something special can be achieved in my writing. When I set to kicking everything off though, that's when things become difficult and the pressure to produce coupled with the fear of failure leaves me staring at a blinking line on my computer screen for hours on end. I've tried writing the ending first and working backward, but that's counterintuitive for the way my brain works, and everything just ends up being a muddled and unfinished mess. The truth is that that's the most true representation of what I'm trying to achieve though, because I can't think of any words more accurate to describe life than 'a muddled and unfinished mess'. We can never write the ending to our own life stories, time or disease or even freak accident does that for us. Someone writing about our life after we're gone may know every last detail about our history, but they can't really capture our personality or the deeper innermost thoughts and subtle nuances that made us the person that we are. I can tell you that my name is Alina Benez, but that won't mean anything to you at this point because you know nothing else about me. I'm just a name to you right now, a static pairing of monikers that does little to nothing to create a fully realized human being that has a life, dreams, hopes, fears, all the things that make me who I am. More to the point, you have no reason to care about me or my story right now, and that's where we have to begin. We have to give you a reason to want to read my story, something to make you invested in me enough to want to go on a journey with me to discover what I'm about and where I'll eventually end up. I can give you the long, sordid history of my family, and that would certainly give you an accurate picture of why I am the person I am today, but to do that would take up an entire novel's worth of story, but this isn't Harry Potter, and we're not going half a dozen books or more to tell you that I'm a girl and I'm unequivocally in love with another girl, and have been for as long as I can remember. In a weird way, I don't feel like I can tell you my story without telling you parts of her story, I mean, it's not like either of us had lived very long before we met, though I know that time doesn't always give an accurate indication of maturity. In truth, even though we were only in first grade when we met, we were both pretty far along when it came to life experience, but we'll get to that a little later. For now, let's talk about the first time I met Dawn Lassiter, and how the random chance of assigned seating changed both of our lives forever. ****************************************************************************** The din of the other children discussing their weekend adventures filled the room as everyone entered and made their way to the back of the room to put their coats and lunchboxes away in their assigned cubbies. I waited patiently near the middle of the room to avoid the crush of the other little human beings carrying on about the cartoons they'd watched or the places they'd gone while paying little attention to their surroundings, regularly bumping into one another as they babbled on. I held my plain red lunch box with both hands as I watched each child put remove their coat and or hat and put it on their designated hook, dropping their lunch container of choice in the little box below either with care or apathy depending on the student, or perhaps depending on the contents of the container. Amber Barrington, for example, carefully placed her pink lunchbox adorned with princesses of various animated features in the box so as not to disturb what was most certainly a very gourmet lunch inside. Conversely, Danicka Lane practically hucked her lunchbox into the cubby, clearly unconcerned with whether her PB&J on white remained intact for the designated eating period. Once the majority of my fellow students had moved on to their desks I made my way to my cubby, setting my lunchbox down carefully in the lower compartment, removing my hood from my head, allowing my chestnut hair in its tight ponytail freedom to breathe once more before unzipping my red hooded jacket and hanging it on its hook, taking a moment to smooth out my uniform with my olive toned hands before shuffling over to my own seat. Being in the back of the class meant I got a good view of the back of everyone else, giving me a chance to see them all without having to be seen myself. In the few months since school had started, I'd come to know most of the other girls by the backs of their heads more than by their faces. I knew that Cynthia Mckinney hadn't mastered the fine art of brushing her own hair just yet, the frizzy sand colored mop on the top of her head usually threatening to seize up in an explosion of tangles not helped by the fact that she had a penchant for wrapping her hair around her thumb to suck on it when she got nervous or was overly tired. I knew that Hazel Grant would probably be bald by the time she hit thirty given how brittle and strawlike her blonde hair was even at age six. One thing I didn't know, and couldn't learn from staring at the back of a girls head was, was what kind of girl they were, and that's what kept me back while everyone else rushed in in the morning, what made me stand with one foot turned inward as I gripped my lunchbox for dear life, what kept my hand from raising when I knew the answer to a question the teacher asked. I wanted to be part of their conversations, like any other child wants to be a part of a peer group, integrating successfully and moving from "classmate" to "friend", but I never knew what to say or how to act around them. On the first day of school we were made to stand up in front of the class and say our name and one personal thing about us, and some girls chose to share their love of ponies or a favorite color, others shared how many toys they had and how wonderful it was to have a Summer home in some distant part of the world where money buys the time and labor of other people less fortunate than yourself so you can have ice cold juice by the pool. I chose to share that my dad had died two years prior and that I listened to his extensive record collection every chance I could and that I wanted to grow up to be a musician like he had been, in hindsight, this is not the kind of information that makes other six and seven year old girls think you're friendship material. No one really talked to me after that bit of sharing. It wasn't that they actively avoided me or anything so harsh as that, they just didn't even try. My mom told me, after I'd come home crying and begging her to move us to another place with a new school so I could have a clean slate to try again, that people my age didn't know what to do with certain information and that the other girls not talking to me didn't mean they didn't like me, it just meant that they weren't really sure how to talk to me since they hadn't experienced the death of a parent and didn't listen to and enjoy music written decades before they were born. She assured me that one of them, or more, would come around eventually and everything would work out for me. My mother is many things, but it's that assurance that cemented her as a liar in my mind. My salvation from a childhood of eating lunch alone and reading on the bench outside while hops were scotched and ropes were jumped came in the form of a little girl with jet black hair and ice blue eyes. She couldn't, at that time, show off her individuality given the strict dress code at St. Abigail's Academy for Young Girls, but she was instantly someone I knew I wanted to be friends with. When she arrived in our classroom, accompanied by the Vice Principal, she was wearing a purple hooded sweatshirt similar to my own, the hood down allowing the ladybug barrette adorning her shoulder length hair. "Ladies, quiet down please." Mrs. Thomasson said, clapping her hands three times in succession as she made her way from her desk to stand beside the newly arrived girl and take the note the Vice Principal was holding out for her. The room quieted and everyone turned their attention to the front of the room, a few small whispers ending the excited chatter as Mrs. Thomasson took her place next to the new girl, placing a hand on her shoulder to show the Vice Principal that custody of the girl had officially been transferred. "Class, this is Dawn Lassiter," Mrs. Thomasson said, reading the girl's name from the paper in her hand. "and she'll be joining our class going forward." she added, her horn rimmed glasses sliding down the longish bridge of her nose to be pushed back into place by her bony index finger. "Why don't you tell us a little about yourself, dear." the older woman urged with a reassuring pat of her hand on the girl's shoulder. Dawn shifted her backpack from her shoulder and set it down on the floor in front of her, taking a deep breath before looking up at the class and plastering a broad and friendly, if not forced, smile onto her face. "My name is Dawn and my family just moved here from Las Vegas." she said. The class began to hum with individual conversations at this information, the possibilities of all the depraved debauchery this girl could have witnessed in a den of sin as notorious as Las Vegas. Ridiculous things were whispered, including whether Dawn's mother was a stripper, if her father was a mobster, even if Dawn herself had been a prostitute. That last wondering had come from Tiffany Alvarez who regularly let everyone know that she had HBO and that her parents didn't care if she watched it. Dawn's smile remained despite the rudeness of the other girls, and after a few more claps from Mrs. Thomasson the room returned to its polite quietness. "I'm really happy to be here, and I hope we can all be friends." the young girl added, forcing excitement into her statement for the benefit of her peers. "Thank you dear, and welcome. Why don't you find an empty cubby in the back for your coat and other things and take a seat at the empty desk in the back." Mrs. Thomasson urged, giving the girl one final reassuring pat on the shoulder to send her on her way. Hearing that Dawn was to take the desk next to mine filled me with happiness, my clean slate had arrived and she seemed nice and interesting and I'd get to have the first opportunity of everyone in the class to befriend her. I watched her walk to the back of the room and remove her coat and put it on the hook before she opened her backpack and pulled out her lunchbox and put it in the cubby below. I turned my attention away as she made her way to her desk and waited until she sat down to turn toward her and smile, jutting my arm out toward her with my hand open for shaking, because I'm a very well mannered dork. "My name is Alina, it's nice to meet you, Dawn!" I greeted in a hushed tone to not alert Mrs. Thomasson. Dawn looked at my hand and then up at my increasingly nervous smile, and then her face lit up as she placed her hand in mine and shook it enthusiastically. "It's nice to meet you too, Alina!" she declared in a similarly hushed tone. ****************************************************************************** You never know the moments that are going to change your life forever, apart from the ones that end your life or devastate it immediately, like losing a limb or something. We always see our lives as these long roads that stretch outward into years beyond comprehension when we're younger. We may think randomly about being an old person straddling the line between life and death, but then we remember that that's not going to happen for decades and push it out of our minds. We rarely take into account the pitfalls of everyday life that can take that old age from us and squash our plans for the future without giving us a chance to do anything about it. I didn't know that when I was four my father was going to be involved in a fatal car accident caused by a drunk driver. My mother didn't know that had she let my father take the extra twelve minutes he needed to finish the work he was doing in his studio that he would have gotten home from the store without issue and we would have continued being a complete family unit for who knows how long. The drunk driver that took my father's life that night didn't know that he'd had just a little too much to drink during his celebrating his wife's pregnancy announcement with his friends from work and that getting behind the wheel that night would destroy two families forever. That was a bad moment in my life, but it strengthened me as a person for having experienced it, and even though I would trade anything in the world to have my father back, I'm not sure what kind of person I would be without that experience. In that regard, meeting Dawn Lassiter that day in first grade set me on a path that has made me the woman I am today. We obviously wouldn't know our true feelings for one another until much later in life than our Elementary School days, but that first day she appeared in our class started a friendship that lasted a good long while, but we'll get to that later. ****************************************************************************** "So what was it like living in Las Vegas?" I asked Dawn as we sat on the swings together during recess. She shrugged nonchalantly. "It wasn't as crazy as all the other girls think." she said. "We lived in a house away from the city, so it was actually pretty quiet, but I could see the lights from my bedroom window and my dad took me there a couple of times when he had things to do there, and he let me ride on his shoulders when we walked past the casinos and I could see people gambling and having fun, so that was kind of cool." she explained. I nodded. "Those girls are dumb." I told her, not actually meaning to be as blunt as I was. "I mean, they were saying things that were silly about your family just because you lived in Las Vegas." I corrected. She nodded. "I heard someone say she wondered if I was a prostitute." she said. "I don't know what that is, but I don't think I was one." she added with an embarrassed smile. "That was Tiffany Alvarez, she watches HBO and thinks she's so smart and knows all this grownup stuff, but she was my bunkmate at camp this last Summer, and she cried like a baby when her parents dropped her off and when we told ghost stories around the campfire, and when we went swimming and everyone laughed at her because she wouldn't let go of the dock." I told her, trying my best not to laugh thinking about it. "Basically, she's a big baby that pretends to be so grownup so people think she's cool." I added. Dawn giggled at the stories about Tiffany and smiled at me. "That's good to know, thank you." she said warmly. I nodded and returned her smile. "You're welcome." I said. "Don't let any of these girls try and make you feel like they're cooler than you, they're all just scared little girls pretending to be something they aren't." I told her. "What about you?" she asked as she stopped herself with her feet in the worn rut beneath her swing. I stopped myself the same way and looked at her confused. "What about me?" I asked. She shrugged. "I mean, are you as cool as you seem to be or are you just a scared little girl too?" she asked. My heart skipped a beat that she'd vocalized her thoughts of me being cool to her, and I shook my head to get my thoughts back under my control. "I'm not cool." I confessed. "I read books by myself while the other girls play, and apart from you, I don't have any friends." I told her quietly, ashamed that the embarrassing truth about me was spilling out to someone I desperately wanted to like me. "What kinds of books?" she asked. "I'm reading The Phantom Tollbooth right now." I told her. Her face lit up. "I love that book! We'll have to talk about it after you finish it!" she exclaimed excitedly. I was so surprised that I'd found another person my age that read at a higher grade level that I sat with my mouth open for longer than was socially acceptable, and only managed to close it when it registered to me that Dawn was giggling at me. "Are you shocked that I'm able to read?" she asked. I shook my head vehemently. "No!" I exclaimed. "I just was surprised that you had read that book, it's like a grade four or five book." I told her. She nodded. "My dad read it with me last month." she said. "He helped me with some of the words." she added with a small blush. "Does your dad read with you too?" she asked hopefully, maybe thinking she'd made herself seem stupid in my eyes because she wasn't entirely as independent in her reading as I was. I lowered my head and shook it. "No." I told her. "Um, my dad died two years ago." I added glumly. She gasped and put her hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know!" she declared apologetically. I nodded. "There's no way you could have known, it's okay." I said quietly as I looked over to her and forced a smile. The genuine feeling of compassion radiating from her hand into my shoulder put me immediately at ease. A moment passed to allow the awkwardness to fade and Dawn gave my shoulder a small pat. "Would you like to come over to my house this weekend?" she asked. "You can help me figure out how to decorate my room and maybe sleep over!" she added excitedly. My little heart swelled and I nodded eagerly, the awkwardness and hurt forgotten completely. "I'll ask my mom tonight!" I told her to which she made a happy squealing sound as she bounced on the seat of the swing. *************************************************************************** To this day I don't know why I put myself in the position that I did, I mean, I could have easily declined her invitation to sleep over, or lied and said my mother had told me no, but I think some part of me never wanted to lie to Dawn, that she was too important a person in my little world to jeopardize our just beginning friendship by building it on a foundation of lies. Maybe I wanted her to know everything about me and keeping my nighttime secret from her wasn't an issue because I felt confident that she wouldn't judge me or mock me or tell anyone. Whatever the true reason was, I took an unknowing step into a future relationship with Dawn because of that sleepover, and knowing what I know now, maybe that wasn't the best idea after all.