Page 5 of Tainted Love

“It’s marshmallow fluff,” I reply.

She bursts into laughter. “Marshmallow fluff? What even is that?”

I shrug. “Just a bunch of mashed-up marshmallows.”

“Hhm,” she says, still unconvinced.

“Are you too scared to try it?” I tease, knowing this will get a rise out of her. “Sounds like you’re chicken.”

“I am not! Give me that silly sandwich.” She picks it up and inspects it before taking a sniff. Her curiosity gets the best of her, and she takes a big bite. After a moment, her eyes light up with delight. “This is fantastic!” she gushes.

“I told you so!” I laugh knowingly. “Now give it back.”

Sascha grins mischievously and declares, “I think I’ll keep this for myself.”

“Sascha!” I yelp, but it’s already too late.

She takes off in a run across the playground, sandwich in hand, while I chase her. Despite my best efforts, Sascha’s longer legs make her faster, and soon, she’s out of my reach.

Eventually, I’m able to trap her over by the swings. She looks at me, smiles, and takes another bite of the sandwich as I dive toward her. We tumble into the sandbox, her holding her arm in the air to keep sand from ruining her new favorite food.

We’re still giggling as we sit up, and she hands me my sandwich. “We can share,” I offer.

“Okay,” she replies with a smile. “Will you push me on the swing?”

“Sure.” And I push Sascha on the swing while we sing and share my sandwich.

After lunch, we have some arts and crafts before reading and math. The classroom is filled with colorful paints, glitter, and construction paper. Today, Mrs. Jones tells us to make something important to us.

Sascha lowers her head, her pencil moving confidently across the paper. She outlines a figure of a person, and I’m amazed at how good it looks. I can tell that it’s her mother, and she draws herself standing next to the woman, holding her hand. As Sascha continues to work, I sit silently, unsure what to do, until she looks up at me with curious eyes.

“Why aren’t you drawing?” she asks.

“I don’t know what to draw,” I confess.

“What’s important to you?”

I shrug my shoulders, stumped by her question. It’s not like I can draw my mom like most kids. How do I put something so personal into a drawing? But then she suggests something unexpected.

“What about your favorite sport?” she asks.

A smile lights up my face as I think of playing hockey. “I love hockey,” I tell her excitedly. “I’m hoping to sign up to play this year.”

“We can draw that,” Sascha says with a grin. “I’ll help you. Just add some gray streaks to my mom’s hair first.” We both burst into laughter at her playful comment.

We work on our drawings together, and Sascha helps me. By the end, I have a cool drawing of me playing hockey. I bet Gram will love it. Maybe she will put it on her refrigerator.

Afterwards, it’s nap time. I always place my mat next to Sascha’s to talk and be silly. But today, our game of keep away at lunch must have caught up to her as she quickly dozes off, her head resting gently on her folded hands.

It’s strange to watch my best friend sleep, but it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, like when you come in from the snow and drink hot chocolate. Sascha is so fun to be around. She’s smarter than me, better at art, reading, and almost everything else. But she’s so nice and kind as well. Unless she sees someone being mistreated, then she’s very protective. There are so many things I admire about her.

My eyes get heavy as I take in her face and the slow rhythm of her breathing. The last thing I remember thinking before I fall asleep is that I’m so lucky to have a best friend like Sascha.

Chapter 3

“Who’ll Stop The Rain”

Sascha - Age 6, 1976