My friend Deanna.

There is a girl who lives in my hall. Her name is Deanna. She has a very Italian last name that I can’t spell.

Deanna has big hair, and an even bigger heart. Her heart is the size of a basketball. Maybe even a beach ball. She is so nice to me that at times I really feel like I could cry.

She always has food for me. Crackers. Pretzels. Cookies. She always has a good smiling conversation for me. She goes to dinner with me a lot because when I go to dinner I usually sit by myself. Deanna taught me how to make macaroni and cheese: take macaroni, put it in a bowl; take cheese and put it on the macaroni; heat the macaroni and cheese in the microwave for 30 seconds. It is very good. Deanna waited two hours to go to dinner tonight. She told me that she was really hungry, but she waited anyway. She waited because she was waiting for a girl named Elisa to walk past her door. Ever since August I have had a crush on Elisa. Deanna was waiting so that she could invite both myself and Elisa to dinner. A dinner date. I am too scared to talk to Elisa without someone elses help.

I wish I had more to offer Deanna because I don’t feel like I deserve this.

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