Personal Narrative: Gangs And Young Girls

Confusion filled my face as I watched them cry, then laugh, then sigh heavily, then cry some more. It was the same thing every time we came to visit. I asked Katie, my sister, and Bailey, my cousin, “what’s so great about boys?” they responded with the most irritating phrase to a nine year old; “you’ll understand when you’re older.” They would talk for hours about how amazing boys were, and then about how awful they were. I did not understand it. As I tagged along with Katie and Bailey to the Prescott, Arizona mall to get a cute purse from Claire’s, they seemed to weave unnecessarily through crowds of tall, scary adults. I realized after the fifth time of losing them, that the purpose of the sporadic movement was to walk by cute boys. I was