Teaser Tales (Short Stories)

I was nothing like my parents: Elementary School (13+)

When I was in elementary school, I was nothing like my parents.

I remember very little about third grade. My previous school had closed down, forcing me and my friends to separate to different school zones. All of them ended up in Apple Valley, while I was sent to Richter on the opposite end of the city. I remember crying on the first day. I was angry and didn't understand why I had to leave my friends, but most of all I was scared. I told my mother this, hoping she would hug me and tell me I could do it if I just tried; instead, I received a glare. She made a sucking noise with her teeth and shook her head. She seemed angry with me, or at least that's what I thought at the time. Her hand tightened around mine, hurting my fingers. "They're children. You're a child. Just be good." She mumbled "I better not get a single phone call telling me you were caught crying." She hissed under her breath. I wiped my eyes on my sweater and sighed.

I was nothing like my mother, and I didn't want to be.

It took me three days to get up the courage to talk to anybody outside of class. But on that third day, I noticed some boys playing with Pokémon cards. I loved Pokémon. I played the games, watched the show religiously, and especially adored the cards. I had collected a few dozen, and was excited to see other people playing with them. I jaunted over, cards in hand and a smile on my face. I introduced myself as 'Emily' and was looked at with disgust. Turns out, girls playing with Pokémon cards was a sin, and was warrant for stepping on my foot and stealing my cards. Sitting in the gravel, I silently sobbed, using my finger to doodle in the sand.

After school, I told my dad what had happened. He started to yell, telling me I shouldn't have taken my cards out of the house. He told me I was useless, a crybaby, and not worth another dime of his life. He snatched my arm, and dragged me over to the shelf. He grabbed a book and shoved it in my hands. He knelt down to my level and pushed the book in my hands against my chest. "This is what you should like! No more of this crap! I won't have you getting bullied because of this garbage!" He shouted, kicking over my stack of Pokémon games I had on the floor and leaving the room. I collected the scattered games, finding a few of them broken and cracked in some places. I held my favorite and began to cry, making sure to shut the door so they wouldn't hear. I rubbed my arm where he grabbed it, feeling a red hand print already starting to form. My dad scared me, and at the time I thought that was normal.

The next morning, all Pokémon related things in my room were gone.

I was nothing like my father, and I didn't want to be.