Cinderella is a Pumpkin

I was kind of annoying. That's just a fact. But she had this ability to get on my every last nerve. She was THAT girl. A teacher had a question and her hand shot up almost immediately. Her answer was always "the best" and about 2 weeks in I knew we were gonna be the best of friends....NOT. But it didn't just stop there. OOOOH NO. She felt it was her place to tell me and my friends how we needed to live our lives. Almost shoving her beliefs down our throats. Everything she did drove me crazy. We would play night games, and I found it immensely obnoxious that she had to be home by 9, not by her parents choice but by hers. This experience made my family joke that she turned into a pumpkin after 10 o'clock. Since that day every time she wears orange to church or anywhere my mom would begin to laugh nudge me in the side and point as discretely as possible to the middle pew. Every time I laughed I knew I should feel bad but I never did. The older I got the more tolerable she became but the more she tried to shove her believes onto me. Criticizing my appearance when I was WAY more stylish than she was and it became sort of a game to the rest of us. Sharing horror stories of things she had done or said. These experiences helped us grow closer together, a bonding agent to each of us. Then one day, it seemed to click to her. She gradually became less and less abrasive and almost, dare I say it? Cool. We all grew up and grew apart. Sometimes I run into her and we talk for a few minutes. Sometimes she says something, and it's just a little off and it makes me remember our younger days and I miss those days. Those simple frustrations that seemed  as such a big deal in the moment now seen through the tinted eyes of nostalgia.