Mackenzie's purse was a skirt, adored with a buckle from Becky's belt. And her top blended parts of a turtleneck sweater (mine!) with a scrap of fabric from a stash at home that she'd almost given up on.
I am
Kenzie Boyers
I am laughter, the echoing sound of happiness. I am a
schoolgirl, staring out the window during math class. I am
not the rain beating on your window at night. I am
a wave, crashing down on the sand of an unknown beach.
I am the sweet and sometimes sour tang of a pineapple.
I am a designer, with the power to make a statement
without words.
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