Camille

Everyone knew Melissa Varner had the corrode. If she came into the cafeteria, we all had to put our feet up, or we would all have the corrode. The corrode was transmitted mysteriously through the floor, so it could happen anywhere. If you were unlucky enough to be in the hallway at the same time as Melissa, you better run into the first door you see. She was taller than the tallest fifth grader, and older too. Everywhere she went she had Budman with her. Budman sat with her at lunch, and accompanied her to the swings, and most certainly, was covered in corrode.
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My mom suggested that we have Melissa over to our house. She lived close by, and when she arrived at our back porch, I ran under the stairs. I could feel myself catching the corrode through the grass. "Hi- I'm here to play." I heard her tell my mother. I crawled up from my hiding place. "Hi."
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Melissa played at our house many afternoons. I caught the corrode and survived, and we made Budman a house out of sticks. When she moved, I remember Budman waving at us from the backseat. Budman was a good friend. I could only aspire to be as constant.