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“…freak. Why don’t you choke on sand?”
“Hey!” I yelled before I could rethink my decision (because, really, when did I ever think things through?). I balled my hands into fists and banged them against the fence. The rattling sound, more than my voice, startled the bullies. The one I initially heard speak narrowed his eyes at me.
“What are you doing here? You don’t even go to school here!”
I tried to keep my voice strident, like my father always did. “Stop picking on her, and I’ll leave!”
For some reason, my words sent the boys into another fit of laughter.
“See, freak? Even a stranger thinks you’re a girl!” A new voice retorted, poking the long-haired figure in the back. In my mind, I referred to this boy as Short Stack. No reason, really, except for the fact that his face looked like someone had smeared syrup on it, stuck cement to said syrup, and then came and ripped the cement off his face. Yup, he wasthatugly, and my nanny’s vivid imagination had rubbed off on me.
It was when the sandbox-child turned around to hit away Short Stack’s finger did I realize that he wasn’t a girl, but a guy. He had decidedly masculine, if not slightly cherubic, features. His haunted eyes stared at me with such sadness and betrayal that my heart began to pound an erratic rhythm in my chest.
“Leave him alone,” I said, proud I kept my voice steady. My eyes never left the long-haired boy’s face.
“What are you going to do about it, girl?” One of the bullies, I didn’t see which, taunted.
There was no way I would beat these boys in a physical fight, but I had one thing they didn’t. An abundant knowledge of useless facts that no six-year-old should know.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked, straightening my spine. It did very little to add height to my short frame, but it made me feel somewhat imperious to these bullies.
“A girl?” Bully 1 - let’s call him Turd Wiper – asked, oh so original with his gibe.
“I am the world’s youngest doctor,” I lied, crossing my arms over my chest. Short Stack snorted, but Bully 3 - Not Relevant Enough to Name - looked slightly anxious.
“Bull crap,” Turd Wiper said.
“It’s true. And if you don’t leave him alone, I will pull out your mitochondria, and you will die.”
That big word threw them off guard. Three sets of eyes flitted to my face with varying degrees of horror.
“You can’t – you can’t do that!” one of them stuttered. I believe it was Not Relevant that spoke.
“The mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell. If you don’t have it, you’ll die.”
“But-”
“And I’ll also give you hydrocephalus!” The boys shifted uneasily. “And your heads will explode.”
Looking back, I don’t know if it was my nonsense words or my slightly sardonic smile that did it. Maybe it was the sincerity in which I threatened to murder them. Either way, the boys ran away as if a hound from hell chased them, nipping at their heels.
“You run away!” I yelled after them. “And don’t let the swing hit you on the way out!”
I waited until they were out of sight – no doubt tattling to a teacher – before turning towards the boy.
“Are you okay?” I asked somewhat tentatively. I was afraid that he’d run from me too.
While he didn’t run, he didn’t address me either. He continued to stare up at me as if I was an exotic specimen, a zebra in a flock of sheep.
“My name’s Adelaide,” I said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “What’s your name?”
At first, I thought that he wasn’t going to answer, but he mumbled something inarticulate under his breath.
“Ducky?” I asked, afraid I had heard him wrong. When he didn’t correct me, I smiled down at him. I'm sure I looked like a mess – what, with my disheveled hair and blood-stained dress, I was probably givingout The Ringvibes – but Ducky didn’t seem to mind. Heactually smiledback at me.
“Well, Ducky, I would stick around, but I have a feeling those jerks will be back and get me in trouble.”
Ducky’s face fell as if disappointed that I wasn’t staying. It suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t want to leave either. There was such wistfulness in his face that I knew mirrored my own. We were both broken souls in desperate need of a friend.
“How about I come back tomorrow?” I said. “I’ll meet you here?”
The smile that lit up his face was glorious.
That same smile haunted me for years after his death.
