Page 3 of Tainted Love

We all turn to wave at our parents, but I notice the boy standing alone, looking lost and unsure. My stomach knots up. He doesn’t have a parent to wave to, which makes me sad. Without thinking, I step out of line and approach him. He looks at me with worried eyes as I stand beside him.

“Hi,” I say brightly. “I’m Sascha.”

“I’m Michael,” he responds with a small smile. As I look into his eyes, I’m surprised by their color—not quite blue or green, but somewhere in between. They are super beautiful. I have green eyes, and everyone tells me they are pretty, but his are better.

Excitement bubbles up inside me as I talk to my new classmate. “Today is going to be fun,” I tell him with a wide grin. He looks at me like he doesn’t believe what I’m saying.

“We get to color, use Play-Doh, sing, and even take a nap!”

He seems more interested now, speaking for the first time. “I have bologna for lunch,” he says with a crinkle of his nose.

I almost make a gross face, but I stop myself, not wanting to be rude. “I’m not sure what I have, but we can share,” I offer, hoping that makes him happy. It works, and he nods, stepping closer toward me so our shoulders are touching.

“Let’s all walk into the classroom in an orderly fashion,” Mrs. Jones instructs.

We don’t do that. We run into the classroom and look around at our new space. The walls are decorated with bright posters, large letters of the alphabet, and playful animal drawings. Each student has their own labeled cubby. Mine is written in purple, which I like. It’s one of my favorite colors.

Several tables are set up in the center of the room, each holding piles of colorful art supplies, including crayons, glue, and colored pencils.

“Let’s all put away our things in our cubbies,” Mrs. Jones says warmly. “We will have a snack soon.”

I’m feeling super excited as Michael and I put our backpacks away and join our classmates in the middle of the room, wondering what fun thing we’ll do next.

The hours pass quickly; before we know it, it’s time for lunch. We have the cafeteria to ourselves, and the sounds of five and six-year-olds squealing echo off the walls.

As promised, I share my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with Michael, who gives me an Oreo. He makes fun of me when I twist it carefully, trying not to break the chocolate wafer.

“Just eat it,” he says with a laugh.

“I like to eat the filling first,” I explain, narrowing my eyes and biting my tongue in concentration as I dislodge the sweet, white filling.

Twenty minutes later, we burst through the doors and into the bright sunlight of our play area. Our feet pound against the pavement, and we chase each other around like crazy wild animals, darting in and out of playground equipment.

I climb up the ladder to reach the top of the monkey bars, excited as I swing from bar to bar. The sun beats down on me, making my skin warm and sticky with sweat. Michael and I take turns spinning on the merry-go-round, dizzy and giddy as it swirls faster and faster. The metal of the slide glimmers, and I feel a sharp heat against my bare legs as I race down. It makes the back of my legs itch and sting, but the excitement outweighs the pain. I ride down the slide over and over with my arms up in the air and a giant smile on my face.

Too soon, Mrs. Jones calls us back inside for our afternoon nap. We drag out our small mats and arrange them side by side on the cool floor. We try to keep quiet, but we can’t help but giggle and make silly faces at each other. Mrs. Jones threatens to separate us, so we calm down but never quite fall asleep, silently smiling at one another instead.

After the final bell rings, the class lines up outside our classroom, fidgeting with excitement to tell our parents about our day. My stomach flutters as I think about telling my mom about my adventures and introducing her to my new friend. The teacher finally releases us and I spot her waiting for me at the end of the line.

I rush toward her, barely containing myself, as I tell her about my day. My mom crouches down and listens to my every word. I want to introduce her to Michael and scan the area for him. He’s standing alone beside Mrs. Jones, the last child in line. He looks scared again, standing there with his oversized backpack and battered little lunchbox in his hand. I realize that his parents aren’t here to pick him up, and it makes my chest hurt.

I tug on my mom’s sweater and look up to see a warm smile on her face. “I want you to meet my new friend,” I say proudly, taking her hand and leading her toward Michael.

“Of course,” she says, following me as we pass other families.

“Mom, this is my friend, Michael,” I smile, gesturing toward him.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Michael,” she says sincerely. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes,” he replies shyly, his eyes looking between us. Suddenly, he sees something behind me, and his face lights up. Curious, I turn around to see an older woman slowly coming our way.

“Gram!” Michael shouts as he runs over to give her a big hug. She’s tiny, with shiny gray hair and a nice smile. “Hi, Darling,” she says while softly touching his face. “How was your day?”

In a split second, he changes from shy to beaming with joy. “It was great, Grandma!” he answers excitedly. This is my new friend, Sascha.”

“Hello,” she says. She has a kind smile and sparkling blue eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi!” I reply enthusiastically.