a story of sorts: short

 

this is a short excerpt from a short story i wrote, based on a memory... or two

We sit in the corner of my bed and I tell her of the light boy with the eyes the color of his skin,

light. I blush as she buries her face unable to listen as I tell her how my hands sweat when we

play on the same team and my heart jumps up and down when we hi five. She laughs when I tell her about the boy with dark curls like Michael Jackson, the light brown one. She doesn't like him cause he lives around the corner and I often leave her to play with him. He is so cute and I know she will understand but she doesn't. She sits with Henry and they ignore me so I teach her to fly without showing her how to land and him too. Sometimes he breaks her fall, sometimes he doesn't. Before the loneliness and guilt become too much to bear, I pick her up (mommy likes a tidy room) and place her back on my bed. She is my favorite. 

We often sit on my chair and watch the sun dip behind the fences, try to mimic the colors the sky makes but they do not make crayons so beautiful. 

I read to her my favorite books, she is comfortable in my lap  and when the others come home we climb back to the top and hide in the corner, sometimes the closet. They are mean to me, the others, calling me names, taking my friends, hiding them. My books and dolls.

Shayla is sad for me when they say mean things, Henry too but he loves his arm too much to protest and she is meek like me, holds me when I cry.