(4588 words)

~ 7-year-old me

“You’re so cute!” I heard this compliment repeatedly from extended family members and my parents’ friends. They constantly praised how thin and tall I was. I had ‘smiling eyes’ and apparently a perfectly shaped face. My skin was fair and never tanned, but during the summers I would freckle. I was proud of my freckles. They were fun, and I personally thought they were charming.

“Can I braid your hair? It’s so long and perfect.” I was swarmed, daily, by the other girls in my class. They all had dark brown or black hair. I was an oddity around them with my long blonde hair. My mother never wanted it cut, so it always hung down to my waist. During the summer, the sun would bleach the top layers so that at the beginning of every school year, I attracted attention.

“Sing for us sweetie!” That was my grandmother. At every family gathering I was given my fifteen minutes (or more) of fame. I would sing whatever popular song my parents currently listened to. Sometimes, I even knew the dance that went along with it. I would smile brightly and perform. After I was finished, my grandmother would fish into her purse and give me a dollar. At 7 years old, I felt fantastic.

“Again?! You ruined another outfit!” My mother reprimanded me for the state of my clothing when I came home after school. I usually spent an extra hour after the bell rang playing with my closer friends. We lived in a small somewhat rural community. My clothes were always getting snagged, torn, or dirty. However, what my mom hated the most were the clothes that came home with drawings on them. I didn’t know why she threw such a fit. I would wear them again! I had no problem with tears, dirt, or my scribbles on my otherwise pick of ugly outfits. She did, and would constantly complain about the amount of laundry and mending that she had to do.

“Your principal called, again. How many times do we have to tell you that holding boys’ hands and playing ‘kiss tag’ isn’t appropriate?” My mother scolded me, again. Yes, I was also the playground flirt. It hadn’t started that way. Kiss tag always developed when I began playing soccer with some of my fellow classmates. The other girls stayed on the playground with their imaginary tea dates or something to the like. The boys would always let me play with them, but the games always ended up changing part way through recess. I was in the third grade and giving the boys a peck on the cheek was hardly doing something promiscuous. I always shrugged it off. More importantly, there was only one boy who I’d ever held hands with and I wasn’t about to let my parents or some stuffy principal ruin that for me.

 

 

I stared at the girl who was 2 years younger than me. She had a small cute face and seemed genuinely cheery. She had long dark hair, like everyone else. I was expected to be her new friend. That was fine by me. I got along with everyone around my age. Plus, she lived right across the street. This meant, in our small town, that I would definitely see her and her family often.

“And this, is Baekhyun. He’s just about your age, but he’s in Kindergarten.” I was in the first grade already and was curious as to why the boy was a grade lower if he was indeed the same age as me. He had a rounded face and almost black eyes. His ears stuck out from his head and he had very short black hair. He looked nice enough, if not a little awkward. I smiled brightly at him, but he flinched and looked down at the ground. Ah well, I thought. At least his sister seemed genuinely interested in becoming a playmate.

“Why don’t you three go play?” my mother suggested and motioned to the backyard. I smiled and walked to the back door opening it for my guests. We had quite the expanse of a yard around the entire perimeter of the house. Trees dotted the property, providing plenty of shade. I waited for the siblings to join me in the yard while I decided what we should do.

“Hey! You wanna see something awesome?!” I was hoping for enthusiasm, but both of them looked at me like I was crazy. “Come on,” I prodded.

I walked to the end of the dirt driveway that ran from the backdoor to the perimeter fence. We had a large iron gate. I do mean it was really large! My favorite past time was standing on the bottom bar of the gate and holding on while my dad swung it open. Being towards the end of the gate, the momentum was amazing to my young mind and I would often jump off when the gate reached the 90-degree angle from the fence. If we needed the gate to stay open, there was a cement block that we used to prop it open. This cement block was my destination. I was delighted to show my neighbors my favorite treasure in the yard.

The two of them joined me near the somewhat large block. I put my hands around one corner and started to lift it. It was pretty heavy. It left an indentation in the ground from its prolonged position in the one spot. I still hadn’t moved it more than maybe an inch. I looked up at my new friends for a little help. The small girl backed up putting distance between her and the block. The boy had his hands in his pockets and was staring at me with a strange expression.

“I need help. If we don’t move it quickly, we’ll miss the surprise!” I urged. Baekhyun scoffed before taking a step closer and putting his hands near the other corner of the cement block. I looked at him, making eye contact and nodded to cue when I wanted him to lift the block. We tipped it back quickly and let it fall back right next to it’s original position. I stood up, placing my hands at my hips and smiled. Baekhyun’s eyes widened. His sister, however, let out a blood-curdling scream.

My smile faltered as she went running back inside the house. As the door slammed shut, I heard a small giggle next to me. I snapped my gaze back to Baekhyun who was crouched down next to the imprint of the block, laughing. He looked up at me, smiling. “Awesome,” he muttered. I sat down on the ground, my smile returning.

If you must know, the wonderful thing about cement blocks, at least in my young mind, was that it created a cold wet atmosphere beneath it. It was the kind of atmosphere that a great amount of common garden bugs absolutely loved. If you flip the block quickly, you’d be surprised at the variety of creepy crawlies that make a habitat beneath them. If you flip the block slowly, it gives them too much time to burrow into the dirt so the quicker the better.

I guess I had won points with Baekhyun. I didn’t react like his sister, running and screaming. This small moment lead to multiple games of trying to gross each other out, in the weird way that kids, especially boys, do. As we grew over the next two years, I became his best friend. Between endless hours exploring neighboring fields and rainy days of endless video game competitions, outside of school we were inseparable.

---

 

~ 7-year-old me, again.

 

“I’m going across the street!” I yelled through the house after my mom had finished griping at me about the latest principle’s complaint.

“Pay attention to the time! Be home at six!” she yelled in return.

I never did though. She always had to call Baekhyun’s mom, who would politely tell me to head back home.

I arrived at their house and knocked on the door. His sister answered the door and let me in. We had still become great friends as well, but she hardly played with us outdoors unless we promised that we were only going to play pretend or baseball. Today, however, she grabbed my wrist and led me up the stairs to her room. I spared a moment to glance across the hallway and through Baekhyun’s door. He was sitting on the floor in front of the small television in his room, undoubtedly playing video games. I let his sister pull me into her room. I could always play with Baekkie later.

I played with the small girl and her quite extensive doll collection for almost an hour. Every time I heard a sound from outside of the hallway, I perked up hoping that Baekhyun would come rescue me from the visual abuse of way too much pink that flooded my vision. To my dismay, I heard him run down the stairs, completely bypassing even noticing that I was there.

The doorbell rang. The familiar sounds of some of Baekhyun’s close friends carried through the house. I couldn’t help myself. I walked to the door and peered down the stairs. The small stampede of boys came running up the stairs and turned the corner right into Baekhyun’s room. I ignored his sister for just a moment to walk across the hallway and look inside the room. The two boys and Baekhyun had pulled out a game of tops and were busy chatting away. I wanted to join them.

“Baekhyun?” I asked, trying to get his attention.

“What?” he replied, annoyed.

“Can I play too?”

“This isn’t for girls. Go play with my sister,” he responded.

Sometimes he was like this. It was fine for me to be one of the boys when it was just he and I, but I was never allowed to join him when his friends were there.

I sulked. I walked back across the hallway and played with his sister until I heard the ever-annoying ring of the telephone. “I’m leaving!” I shouted, just as his mom picked up the phone. I left the house, slamming the door. It wasn’t out of anger or anything. I just had a tendency to slam doors without thinking about it.

 

---

 

The next day at school went the same as always. The girls played with my hair during the music part of class. I enthusiastically participated in every different section of the class. Well, except for math. I really hated math. I spent most of the math section doodling and waiting for the bell to ring for recess.

When the bell finally rang, I ran straight for the first playground. I didn’t want to play with the other boys today, just Baekhyun. I waited for his class to walk out to the playground and anxiously waited until I spotted him. I smiled brightly, waiting for him to notice me.

He did, finally, and came running over to me. “Wanna go explore?” I asked, mischievously.

“Yup,” he replied. I took his hand and walked over to the side of the building nearest the playgrounds. It was a shady area and met with the perimeter fence that surrounded the fields. We walked along the fence, where the grass grew longer since the mower could only cut so close to the fence. We really weren’t doing anything special. We just walked, hoping to run across something new or something we hadn’t seen before. Sometimes it was mushrooms that grew after the rain. We knew better than to eat them, but we still enjoyed finding them. Sometimes, we ran across different types of birds that we would watch. Or perhaps a neighborhood cat or dog would walk by. One time, we came across a snake. Snakes are a definite ‘no’ in my book. I could handle bugs, lizards, frogs, mud, scraped knees and such but I didn’t want to have anything to do with snakes.

“Hey look! It’s Baekhyun and his girlfriend again!” shouted one of the kids in Baekhyun’s class.

“I don’t have a girlfriend!” Baekhyun shouted back.

I didn’t like to see my friend so flustered. I dropped his hand and looked at the boy and yelled at him to leave Baekhyun alone. I glared at the younger boy and walked way.

“It’s okay, Baekkie. Kids are stupid,” I stated.

“You’re not my girlfriend,” he argued.

“Eww! I know that!” I feigned being grossed out. I looked at him, trying to analyze the look on his face. He was staring at his other group of friends who were across the field from us. “Do you want to go play? You can,” I offered motioning to his friends.

Without an answer, he sprinted away. Some days, it was like this. I was still just a girl.

 

~ A few weeks later

 

“Hi!” his sister greeted me at the door. I smiled in response and walked into the house. I began to follow her up the stairs towards her room when I saw Baekhyun’s head pop out from his bedroom door. When he spotted me, he walked out of the room and waited until we reached the top of the stairs. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me towards his room.

“HEY!” his sister shouted.

“She’s my friend!” Baekhyun argued.

“She’s my friend, too!” she argued back.

“She’s my best friend. She’s playing with me today!” he retorted. He pulled me into his room and slammed the door in front of his sister’s face. I giggled.

“Here.” He handed me a controller for his video game and we sat down and waited for the game to load on the screen. It was a multiplayer game. I always played the backup character to his main, which was only annoying when he made his character run forward, forcing my character to catch up to his even if I knew where a special item was.

“Yah!” I yelled.

“You’re too slow!”

“I’m trying to get extra points.”

“Lets just beat the level!”

“Fine,” I muttered. He was so impatient sometimes.

“Oh!” he stated and stood up abruptly.

“What are you doing? We’re in the middle of a level!” I shouted.

“Hold on! I just thought of something!”

“It can’t wait?” I asked incredulously.

“Just gimme a second,” he muttered. He had pulled open the door to his closet and was shuffling for something. He pulled a small, very small leather pouch out and walked back over to me. “Here!”

I dropped the controller, forgetting about the game entirely. I held the small pouch in my hand. I could feel a hard solid item inside the pouch that weighed a decent amount for it’s small size. I opened the pouch and let the item slide out into my other palm.

“I got it last week when I was on vacation with my family. It’s quartz,” he explained.

Quartz, a type of rock that was actually quite common in little fragments in smaller rocks around the town. But this was a solid piece that had been sculpted into a small bear. I turned the small figurine over and over in my palm. It was quite cute. “Thanks,” I murmured.

Immediately, the small bear became the most valuable item I owned.

I kept it cradled in my palm, even while retrieving the game controller and continuing the level. I squeeze it a few times, to reassure it was real. He’d never given me anything before. I couldn’t have felt any happier.

I returned home that evening, and asked my mom to grab my jewelry box from up in the closet. I didn’t own anything of value, but someone had given me a wood jewelry box with several drawers that could hold quite a bit. The largest drawer was a music box that played when open. After my mom got it down, I slipped the small bear in its pouch into the largest drawer and closed it. My mom returned it to the high shelf in the closet. I knew I’d never lose it.

 

---

 

~ 9-year-old me

 

My mom had taken me with her to a salon to get her hair cut. There was a small kids area in the front waiting room where I could be while she was having her hair done. I found a few kids, younger than me, to play with to ease the boredom of waiting. My mom had given me some gum to chew when we’d arrived and I was busy trying to blow bubbles with it.

One of the kids decided to play a game of tag. There wasn’t much running room, and I could already feel the inevitable yelling from the adults. However, it didn’t stop us from playing. Still smacking on my gum, I tried to turn out of reach of the other girl. I squealed in delight as I evaded her touch. However, after I finished squealing I noticed that the gum was missing from my mouth.

I looked at the floor, thinking I may have dropped it somewhere. It was nowhere to be seen. I checked my shoes too, in case I’d stepped on it. I should have stuck to the floor if that was the case, but I checked anyway. Nothing. Suddenly, one of the kids burst into laughter.

“What?” I asked.

“There’s gum in your hair!” he laughed.

“What?!” I panicked, pulled at my hair, and found the wad of gum near my jawline. I started to fumble with it, wanting to get it out. I kept pulling at it, but it was stuck with quite a few strands. Finally, I gave up. I knew I was just going to have to show my mom and have her get it out.

When she was done with her hair, she came out to the waiting room to get me.

“Mom, I got the gum stuck in my hair,” I mumbled, and pointed.

I heard her and several other adults gasp and look at me. Suddenly, employees at the salon were throwing out suggestions including peanut butter and ice cubes to get out the gum. I started to panic at the sound of their voices. Was it so bad? Really? I heard my mother mumbling about my perfect hair and how irresponsible I was.

When we arrived home, every remedy that was suggested was thrown into my hair. Not all at once, but one after another. I started to cry. My mother was lecturing me through the entire experience. At one point, I looked up at her and saw that she had tears in her eyes too.

“I’m going to have to cut it.”

What? I raised my hand to the mess and realized just how short my hair was going to be. The tears flowed heavier.

I sat in the chair in the kitchen, choking on sobs while my mom walked to the bathroom. She returned moments later with a pair of scissors. I could feel my eyes widen in shock.  She set to the task rather quickly, first cutting as close to the mess as possible to save as much length as she could. Carefully, she cut the rest of my hair to the same length. I could feel the air in the kitchen hit my neck as the strands fell away. I continued to cry.

I didn’t care about my appearance. I did, however, care about everyone else’s opinions of my appearance. What would the girls at school think? What about my mom or other family members? Baekhyun had never mentioned my hair, but would he suddenly hate me? If possible, my tears became even heavier.

“Stop crying. It’s done. Go take a shower,” my mom instructed.

I got in the bath and shampooed my hair. When my hands met the ends of the strands just hovering around my chin, I cringed. I hadn’t even looked in a mirror yet, and I didn’t want to.

That night, I crawled into my bed and fell asleep quickly from the emotional exhaustion.

 

---

 

~ The next day, Monday.

 

I quietly closed the back door of the house. I had a hoodie on, over my head. I was carrying my backpack and inwardly praying that no one made me remove my hood. I left my property and began walking down the street on my way to school.

“HEY! Wait!”

I heard Baekhyun’s voice as he came running towards me from his house.

No, no, no.

It was just after winter break during my fourth grade year. Baekhyun was in the third grade. The hoodie was justified in the cool weather. I pulled on the strings around the hood, tightening it around my face. I still kept my eyes averted and stared at the ground as I continued shuffling my feet forward.

“Morning!” he said in his cheery voice. He was still shorter than me. His black hair had grown out a bit more, creating shaggy fringe around his features. I nodded in response, but kept my gaze down.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“But you’re not smiling.”

I faked a smile.

“Why are you wearing a hood?”

“It’s cold.”

“But you never wear anything over your head.”

“I’m just cold,” I replied in a clipped voice. I raised my eyes up to see his scrunched face. He didn’t believe me.

“Take it off.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s cold.”

“Come on!”

“Baekhyun, leave me alone.” I walked quickly, trying to put distance between us.

I heard his mischievous giggle only moments before his footsteps quickened. I turned just slightly as I felt the hood over my head being tugged.

“NO!” I screamed.

The hood was removed. I covered my face with my hands, not wanting to see his reaction.  When I heard nothing, I peeked at him through my fingers. He was just standing there, staring.

We were pretty close to the school grounds. I didn’t want anyone else to see, so I grabbed the hood of my jacket and pulled it back over my short hair.

“I’m going to class, okay? I’ll see you at recess!” he shouted as he took off running through the front gate of the school.

He hadn’t said a word about my hair. Not in disgust, not in reassurance. Nothing. I pulled the cords tighter around the hood and walked across the schoolyard. Upon entering my classroom, my teacher told me to take off the hood. I heard the girls in class gasp. Still, no one actually said anything. I hated it. I hated it, so much.

 

---

 

~ A week later

 

Everyone treated me indifferently. No one made fun of my hair, but the girls no longer had anything to play with. No one praised my hair either, and why should they? I had finally looked in the mirror. My face was the same, my body was the same, but I felt so different without my long hair. It was the first time I had truly felt insecurity. My mother reassured me that my hair would grow out, but it wasn’t growing quick enough. I began praying, before bedtime, that God would give me my hair back. It was silly. I knew it, but it was all I wanted.

After coming home from school that Friday, my parents sat me down in the living room. All I wanted to do was go play across the street. I was forced to listen to them.

“Honey, we’re going to be moving to a new house,” my dad started. “It’s about half an hour away. But, you’ll be starting at a new school in two weeks.”

I didn’t know I was capable of it, but a knot that was forming in my chest suddenly turned into anger. “No,” I stated.

“Your dad got a new job and it makes more sense to live closer. Plus, we’ll finally own our own house instead of renting,” my mom reasoned.

I had no idea what that meant, or why it was so important. They didn’t care about me! What about my friends? I loved this house! I liked my school! “No,” I repeated.

“You’ll have next week at your same school, but then we’ll be moving next weekend,” she stated. “I’ll send you to school with a small notebook on Monday and you can collect all of your friends phone numbers and call them whenever you’d like.”

That wasn’t the same thing! I argued in my head.

“Can I go play now?” I asked. I didn’t want to be around them anymore.

“I guess so,” my mother conceded.

I ran. I ran faster than I think I’ve ever run before. When I reached their front door, I was gasping even from the short distance. Baekhyun opened the door.

I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. “I don’t want to go! Can I just live in your room? Can I live in your sister’s room?” I cried.

“I guess so,” he stated, utterly confused.

I let go of him and tried to bat away my tears. Suddenly, word diarrhea flowed from my lips and I told him all about moving away and how much I hated my parents.

“You can live in my closet!” his sister offered. She was standing at the base of the staircase. I hadn’t noticed her until she spoke.

I nodded, willing to accept anything.

I followed the two of them up the stairs, all three of us sat in his sister’s room. I retold them what had happened, talking slowly and explaining everything.

I could tell that they didn’t want me to leave. But their silent responses also confirmed that we were all just a bit too young to really be able to change anything.

Eventually, we all started to plan hypothetical strategies to save me from leaving. We had plans to sneak me out of my house at midnight before the move. We had figured out places that I could hide. Meanwhile, we all knew that our strategies would never become reality. However, imagining them was a tremendous relief.

 

---

 

I sat in the back of my mom’s car. A truck with two mattresses tightly strapped was pulling onto the street and heading for the entrance for the freeway. My mom’s car was next. I stared at the house, hoping it would forever be imprinted in my brain. I couldn’t imagine living in a place better than this.

A tear rolled down my cheek as the car began to pull forward. We turned right, just outside of the gate and I stared across the street. Baekhyun’s brick house etched itself into my head as well. His house had been smaller. It had a smaller yard. But it was beautiful too. It rivaled with my own house as my second favorite place in the world.

I watched both of the houses become smaller as we drove down the street. Too quickly, the neighborhood trees blocked my view of the two properties. I turned back to face forward in my seat. It was over. It was all over.

 

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A/N

Okay... Well, it's begun. As I stated in the Forward, this will likely be about 3-4 chapters in length.

Few warnings! I have to get Stranded done... so it's still my priority.... 

Plus, I'm in school and all that nonsense, so life, busy... right?

Thank you for reading... and if you subscribe or comment or upvote then here's an advanced thank you!

<3