Paper Cuts

Walking down the line of the coast, I found that people were watching me.

  Not surprising.

I stick out like a sore thumb.

  Fire engine red hair that falls down to my waist in a flow of big ringlets. Huge violet eyes that scared anyone who first lays eyes on them. Half black skin that looks like light caramel, and who could forget about my curves. But I hid this last part. and I always braided my hair. It was the contrast of colours that made me stand out.

  And I hate it.

  Attention makes me want to shrivel up and die in a hole.

  In the third grade, I have to write a speech for social studies. I worked so hard on it, but in the end, all that mattered was my skin.

  Later at recess, several boys in my grade ran up to me and started calling my every name in the book.

  "Nigger, shit skin, negro, half devil, whore child," anything you could think of. That was also the day that my friends dumped me.

  And you would think that in Toronto, the most culturally diverse city on the planet, would have more control over racism.

  And more black kids.

  I was the only kid with the least bit of colour in my class. And the only other person in my school was the night shift janitor.

  I know, sad right?

  But these comments made me sick.

  So I grew up. I decided that I was sick and tired of being treated this way, so said no more, and just waited. I did my work, graduated from sixth, waited, did my work, graduated from eighth, and then we moved. And that's how I ended up walking along the large board walk in a medium sized town on the coast of Florida.

  And that was when I realized that people were staring at me. As I walked along the coast line looking for a used bookstore.

  And no this was not what surprised me.

  What did was the small bookstore that was tucked away on a corner of a street. It blended in so well, that I almost missed it.

  But I didn't.

  I walked right on in.

  And changed my life forever.

..............................

A.N.

So this is my first story.

I've had it written down for so long, that I really needed to write it. So I did.

The story isn't about racism, just her back story.

She isn't a shy geek, but the quiet punk girl that sits next to you in English that always blasts music in her headphones so loud, but only you two can hear it.

It has some elements of romance, but you need to wait for those.

But because you've read this far, I'll tell you a secret.

Her name is Willow.

Please vote and follow and comment and I promise to respond to all comments and messages.

P.S.

This chapter is dedicated to rembrear45 her stories are awesome, and she really encouraged me to publish this.