I stare at the desk in front of me as my teacher talks about multiplying numbers.
I already know how to do this. Why can't she teach us something else already?
"Danielle! Since you're so interested in what we're learning today, what's 12 times 9?" My teacher, Mrs. Yeater, asks me.
Why does she have to sound so mean about it? I didn't do anything wrong, did I?
"108." I answer in a monotone voice.
What's wrong with me today? I usually like to be here, I like to learn. Maybe it's just because I already know this stuff.
I look up from my desk to see that Mrs. Yeater is looking at me funny. Why is she looking at me so weird? I got the question right.
I glance up at the clock hanging on the wall to see it's almost time for recess. I don't like recess because I just walk around the playground. I would play if somebody wanted to play with me too, but none of the other girls like playing tag. They like to play house or baby, which I just don't understand. I would play with the boys but they say I'm too slow.
"Hey, Danielle," A boy named Sergio whispers to me, "What time is it?"
All the other kids always ask me what time it is. I usually don't mind, but it's starting to get annoying. Why can't they learn how to tell time themselves? We learned it in first grade, why can't they remember?
I sigh loudly, "It's 2:34.", I reply back to him.
"What time does recess start?" He questions.
"Okay boys and girls, it's time for recess! Get in a straight line by the door! Who's turn is it for line leader?" Mrs.Yeater asks in a voice you use to talk to babies.
Why do they talk to us like that? Do they realize how ridiculous they sound? And why do we need a line leader? The teacher's always the one in front anyways.
I walk towards the line, standing at the end. I keep my gaze down on my black flats.
"Are you okay?" A boy, Julio, surprises me by asking.
"What do you mean?" I question.
"You look sad." He states, pushing his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes.
"I'm fine."
Why wouldn't I be okay? I'm not sick, I'm not hungry, I don't need to use the bathroom.
"Maybe you should be my girlfriend so you're not sad no more."
I take a minute to think about what he just told me.
"My mom said I can't have a boyfriend yet, I'm sorry."
"Why not?"
"She said I'm too young." I explain.
"8 years old is old enough to have a boyfriend!"
I don't get a chance to answer because apparently it's Julio's turn to be line leader. I watch him as he runs overly excited to the front of the line.
. . .
I got tired of walking around the playground, so I decided to swing instead. I attempt to kick the rocks under me, but my feet don't reach.
I'm swinging on the last swing that's closest to the water fountain. I hear laughter and screaming caused by kids who are sticking rocks in the part you drink out of. I roll my eyes because how are we supposed to drink when we get thirsty now?
