"Little ladies shouldn't be hurt."
That's what my Mr.Man said. I never got hit with a ruler. I never had to stand for all of class. I never had to stand holding the heavy big girl books. I never got punished. Of course I got bullied for it. If I wasn't getting bullied for looking like a girl, I was getting bullied for being babied.
Mr.Man played with me at recess. He swung with me and sang melodies for me. He was such a nice Native American man. We became best friends. It's was odd that an Native American wanted anything to do with a little white boy. However he cared for me greatly.
I was spoiled and got the best education. The prettiest dresses were bought for me and ribbons adorned my hair. I felt like loyalty.
It didn't last though. My Native American fell ill. He still sang for me. He held my hands as he cried. He gave me a ring. I wore it until I died.
I wonder.
Why couldn't he just try the white man's medicine?
YOU ARE READING
Alone
ParanormalA cycle. It repeats. Over and over. My blood. Or his blood. Never reunited. And yet I still hope he'll recognize me, like a fool.
