I come home crying. Mama asked what is wrong. I tell her a got a bee sting but I'm okay. I lied.
Truth is, boys are idiots. All they do is pick on me. Today one even punched me. I think you might be able to see the bruise on my face. That's why I hide my face from mama.
I am seven years old. I am numb. I am raw. And I just want to be loved.
I go to school the next day. Today an eighth grader beat me up. I run home during recess. But I can't go inside because mama will need to know why I'm home early. I sit behind a bush and cry.
Kids are so mean. I wonder if it will always be like this. I'm not sure why they are so mean. Maybe I'm fat. Maybe I'm not pretty. Maybe I'm just little and they're big. Maybe I'm me. And that is it.
I try to hide my face as I walk in the door later. Mama stops me. She looks freaked out. She asks me what happened, who did this?
Obviously it was bad. I turn and run into the bathroom, but don't want to look in the mirror. Finally I do. I see blood streaming down my face, and both my eyes are bruised real bad. I turn away.
Mama bangs at the door and tells me not to worry, she called the doctor and the school.
Then some doctors get there and fix me up. I am still in a lot of pain. I stay home from school for a week. But then mama says I must face the bullies. I cry. She says they won't hurt me any more, cause she talked with the principal.
I walk to school. Mama was right. But they still say nasty things to me. Things I try to block out. I think, why do I have to deal with this? Why do other kids come to school and enjoy it and I dread school with every bone in my body? Why do other people get friends and I get the bathroom stall? I don't think anyone should have to deal with this much hurt. It should be outlawed.
Finally it is summer. I love summer. We go on vacation for the whole summer to a lake. And Conner is there.
--
"Dare!" Conner exclaims.
"I dare you to kiss me!" I tell him.
"No!" Conner laughs.
"You have to!" I tell him. "That's why it's a dare!"
Conner rolls his eyes but gets up and walks toward me. He puckers his lips.
"Okay, nevermind, nevermind!!" I squeal. I get up and run away just in time.
When I finally return he is stuffing his face with potato salad. "No more truth or dare, okay?" I tell him.
"Yeah, good idea. Try this potato salad!"
"Mary! Conner! Come over here a minute!"
I pick up my pudgy legs and trudge over to where our parents are sitting in lawn chairs.
"Picture time!" Conner's mom, Ms. Gloria announces.
My dad calls over the neighbor's gardener and we all stand with our backs to the lake behind my house.
"Smile!" The gardener exclaims.
Flash.
We all gather on a picnic blanket and he takes one more picture. Then we lie down because the fireworks were starting.
"Happy Fourth of July!" Conner's dad, Mr. Al shouts, and we all do too.
I lay my little seven year old head on Conner's nine year old chest and am dozing off when I hear my dad say, "I swear they will fall in love someday." And our mom's laugh.
All I know is that he is the only boy big enough to beat me up that doesn't. And that means a lot to me.
