P R O L O G U E
It was just a light tap - almost a kick, under the desks. She could feel his dirt brown shoelaces rubbing up against her shimmering golden flats, but she didn't pull away. In the middle of an icy January, she tilted her sunglasses. Of course, she could not see the boy sitting across from her in Language Arts, only feel the touch of his toe.
Rosalie had jet black hair that you see in Pantene commercials. The kind that stays just right in the wind, never moves a single inch. Her skin was flawless, not a single mark or stretch. But if only she could look in the mirror and be one of the few girls who was okay with her appearance. Not that she thought of herself as ugly, she was a girl full of confidence. But she was legally blind, and the only thing she saw was a pit of black. Or so she described it.
Well there she sat in Sixth Grade, Language arts with her ankles crossed and her hands folded. The boy in front of her, a tall baseball player, with roots stretching back to Canada, just sat there smiling. Waiting for some kind of reaction.
So, she did what any reasonable, witty but reasonable, girl would do trying to spark up a romance on her own. Well, the best way a twelve year old girl could.
That's right, she kicked him right back.
