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Morning sunlight pours into the kindergarten block corner, illuminating Quinn kneeling beside a rising tower of colorful blocks. Josie steadies the top piece, both girls grinning with concentration.
Quinn walked into kindergarten holding her headband tight. Her tummy felt funny. So many kids! So many voices! She stood by the door with her dark curly hair falling over her green eyes. 'Hi!' said a girl named Josie. 'Want to play blocks?' Quinn nodded. Maybe school wouldn't be so scary after all. They built a tall tower together. Quinn smiled a tiny smile. Her first day was okay.
Under the bright midday playground sun, Quinn sits alone on a swing gripping the chains, her lips pressed in a small frown. Nearby, Josie and Emma gallop across the mulch like horses, ponytails flying and identical lunchboxes banging together.
Every day Quinn and Josie played together. They colored pictures and sang songs. Quinn felt happy. But one morning, a new girl arrived. Her name was Emma. Emma had the same lunch box as Josie. They both loved horses. 'We're like twins!' Josie laughed. Quinn watched them gallop around the playground. She sat alone on the swing. Her tummy felt funny again.
Bright noon light filters through the big oak on the schoolyard edge, dappling Quinn as she sits cross-legged against the trunk clutching her knees. Laughter drifts from distant children playing on swings beyond.
Days passed. Josie and Emma were always together. Quinn ate lunch by herself. She played in the reading corner alone. 'Do you want to play?' she asked once. 'We're playing twins,' Josie said. 'Maybe later?' But later never came. Quinn felt invisible. At recess, she sat under the big tree. The leaves whispered above her. She wished she had a friend too.
Under warm classroom lights, Quinn concentrates at the art table sketching a rainbow cat, colored pencils scattered around. CeCe with long brown hair sits beside her making an exaggerated fish-face, both girls giggling over their bright drawings.
One day, Quinn was drawing at the art table. A girl with long brown hair sat down. 'I'm CeCe,' she said. 'What are you drawing?' 'A rainbow cat,' Quinn whispered. CeCe giggled. 'That's so funny! Can I draw one too?' Quinn nodded. They drew rainbow cats, purple dogs, and striped elephants. CeCe made silly faces. Quinn laughed out loud. It felt wonderful.
Afternoon light slants through the classroom windows onto the reading rug where Quinn and CeCe lie sprawled on their backs, faces red with laughter. Crayons and paper litter the carpet, proving four shouted 'bests' was hilarious business.
Quinn and CeCe played every day. They were perfect together. 'You're my best friend,' Quinn said. 'No, best BEST friend!' CeCe added. 'Best best BEST friend!' Quinn giggled. 'That's only three bests. You're my best best BEST BEST friend!' CeCe shouted. They laughed so hard they fell over. Four bests was perfect. Three just wasn't enough for how special they were together.
In golden late-afternoon sunlight outside the school, Quinn and CeCe wait beside the yellow bus lane, shoulders touching and eyes sparkling. CeCe gestures wildly about a cheese-made bus as Quinn doubles over laughing, other kids glancing curiously.
Every afternoon, Quinn and CeCe waited for the bus together. 'What if our bus was made of cheese?' CeCe asked. 'We'd eat our way home!' Quinn laughed. 'What if the bus driver was a dinosaur?' 'He'd roar at every stop!' They made up silly stories until their sides hurt. Other kids stared. Quinn didn't care. Being funny with CeCe was the best part of the day.
Inside the decorated classroom, multicolored '100' banners hang as Ms. Garcia holds up a giant paper 100. In front, Quinn and CeCe mid-high-five beam broadly, surrounded by scattered piles of counted crayons and blocks.
'Today is the 100th day of school!' Ms. Garcia announced. Everyone cheered. They played 100 games, counted 100 blocks, and made 100-year-old portraits. Quinn and CeCe were partners for everything. They raced 100 steps. They found 100 crayons. 'This is amazing!' Quinn shouted. 'The most amazing day EVER!' CeCe agreed. They high-fived 100 times. Well, they lost count at 47, but it felt like 100.
Morning fluorescent light fills the classroom; at the back, CeCe and a girl with short blonde hair laugh over a shared workbook near the cubbies. Up front, Quinn sits rigid at her desk staring ahead, mouth pressed flat.
One morning, CeCe wasn't on the bus. Quinn's heart sank. At school, CeCe was talking to another girl. They were laughing. Quinn's hands felt cold. What if CeCe didn't want to be friends anymore? What if she found someone better? Quinn sat at her desk trying not to cry. Maybe she'd be alone again. Maybe four bests wasn't enough after all.
Under bright cafeteria lights, Quinn pokes a sandwich at an otherwise empty table, shoulders slumped. CeCe suddenly slides beside her, squeezing Quinn's hand and smiling wide, their lunch trays of apple slices and milk cartons touching.
At lunch, Quinn sat by herself. Her sandwich tasted like nothing. Then someone plopped down next to her. 'There you are!' CeCe said. 'I was helping the new girl find the bathroom. She was scared. Want to meet her?' Quinn felt warm inside. CeCe still wanted to be her friend! 'Yes!' Quinn said. CeCe squeezed her hand. Everything was okay again.
Late afternoon in the classroom art corner, Quinn holds up a crayon drawing of a backyard swing set and cookies, eyes shining. CeCe studies the picture from across the little table, chin propped on hands and smiling softly.
'Can you come to my house?' Quinn asked hopefully. 'I have a swing set and cookies!' CeCe's eyes got big. 'I have to ask my mom!' Every day Quinn asked. Every day CeCe said 'maybe soon.' Quinn drew pictures of them playing at her house. She imagined showing CeCe her room. A playdate would be perfect. More than anything, Quinn wanted CeCe to come over.
After school on the sunny sidewalk, CeCe waves a signed permission slip triumphantly in the air. Quinn leaps with both arms raised, backpacks bouncing, the red-brick school entrance glowing behind them.
One Friday, CeCe ran up waving a paper. 'My mom said YES! I can come tomorrow!' Quinn jumped up and down. 'Really? REALLY?' They made plans. They'd play outside. They'd have snacks. They'd draw rainbow cats. Quinn could barely sleep that night. Her very first playdate with her very best best BEST BEST friend! Tomorrow would be perfect.
At sunset in Quinn's backyard, warm orange light bathes the swing set while Quinn and CeCe share a tight hug next to a plate of half-eaten cookies on the grass. The lit kitchen window of the house glows behind them.
Saturday was magical. Quinn and CeCe played all day. They laughed and told jokes. When CeCe left, Quinn hugged her tight. That night, Quinn thought about the first day of school. She'd been so shy and scared. She'd lost her first friend. But then she found CeCe. Now everything was different. Now everything was okay. She wasn't alone anymore. She had CeCe, her best best BEST BEST friend.