Erin Kirsh

The first time a doctor doesn’t believe me about pain, I am seven years old. My friend and I are practicing gymnastics at my house. We’re both pretty good, so we attempt something we think would be the pinnacle of cool. She’s older than me by a year and twice as big already, so I want to impress her, prove I’m not a second grade baby, that I can hang with the worldly third graders.