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El Quijote de mi vida

My name is Leah. I am eleven years old. I live in Mexico, in a family of five: my two sisters, Isabel and Sofia, my nanny, my parents and me. Well, actually, a family of six, if you count Sarah. Sarah Salinas isn’t really related to us, but she was practically a sister to me.

We had grown up together, and our parents were really good friends. I still remember the time when we got lost in the classic Mexico fog, and ended up knocking on Sarah’s parents’ door to ask them for the directions home. I have really been through a lot with Sarah, and I’d like you to know about all the adventures, mishaps and events that inspired me to write this story. So, here it goes:

Of course, I knew it. When you have to do a job with Sarah, it turns out not to be a job at all, but rather more of an adventure-like for instance, pushing Oscar (Sarah’s baby brother) up a hill in the park, would suddenly become a trek up Mount Fuji, pushing a large boulder to the top, or a school orchestra practice would morph into a reproduction of the Trojan War or something like that. As you can see, someone with a strikingly  eccentric imagination like Sarah’s could make the world go round, for sure.

During DEAR (Drop Everything And Read) time at school, Sarah showed me her book. We pretended that we jumped incide the book, and went time travelling with Molly Moon, or to the Quidditch World Cup with Harry Potter. Sarah makes everything seem so real, and not only is she tomboyishly brave and honest, but she is modest about her talent too.

I can also recall a time when I had to rake up the leaves which had covered the pretty wildflowers growing around the edges of our lawn. Sarah-who had walked down to our house, asked if she could help me.
“It is fine.” I answered, remembering that she was allergic to dust (which the leaves were probably full of). However, she insisted on helping me to rake the leaves into a pile, so how could I say no?

Sarah raced back to her house, and returned with some sort of a mask. She put it on, explaining that it would keep the dust from getting to her, and we began to rake. But as always, the job morphed suddenly into a game, a game where everyone was either a good or bad witch. Each witch had a special power. I was water; Sarah was fire. Despite the magical powers bestowed upon us, the leaves I was meant to rake, never moved at all that day.

Now I live in London, and quite far away from Sarah, who moved to Brazil, three years back. I miss her terribly, but even after all those years, I will never forget what a wonderful friend she was. Never.

Leah H.
Southbank International School, Hampstead

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