Emme is the girl that you grew up next door to. You know the one. She was the Tomboy, that always out climbed the boys to the most precarious limits of the tree in the yard. The one that you just gave the ball or the puck to on the soccer field or hockey rink for fear of her slide tackle or crosscheck. The one that loved making mud pies, but wouldn’t be caught dead at a tea party. You know the one. The one whose Mom couldn’t watch what she was up to for fear that she’d have a heart attack. That girl. The one whose friends you didn’t mess with, not because she was manipulative, but because she hated injustices and wasn’t afraid to say so. Just ask the boy next door. Maybe he’ll pull out the photo of the black eye he was sporting the day he was a ring bearer.
We’ll Emme’s all grown up now and she’s no longer ‘Leo the Late Bloomer’. A homosexual drama teacher has taught her how to put on makeup. Somewhere along the lines she lost her fear that her bum is too big and she wears fitted clothes now. And if wonders will ever cease, she actually likes to put on a party dress, minus the runners and hockey jacket.
No worries, however, she is still just as at home in her wellies and you better believe that if you’re out with her on the mud flats, she’ll be the first one to take off her boots, so she can feel the mud ooze between her toes.
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