1988

Adrian sat with her back to the rusted chain link fence along the playground perimeter. Her pale little fingers gripped the moist grass under her bottom. No one could say she was pretty. Her gray eyes were large and unblinking and her stringy hair resembled almost no color at all. It was just pale, like her skin. A smattering of freckles dusted her round nose and the twisted expression on her tiny mouth was most likely a method of hiding her crooked teeth. She’d probably had moments of cuteness when she was a baby, before this awkward post-toddler and pre-teen phase. She was watching, quietly absorbed in the strange scene that was being played out only a few yards away.

Kerry, a pudgy and buxom 10 year old with blonde wavy hair, stood in the center of the yard hitting the rewind and play buttons on her hot pink boom box in rapid succession. Then, the tinny strains of Michael Jackson’s “Bad” floated across the expanse of the playground. She shoved a few boys to the side and began gyrating her awkwardly plump little body to the music. The small town children stood around gaping at the spectacle. Kerry, with her zebra stripe leggings and plastic hoop earrings was, by far, the most stylish person in the 4^th grade. Her My Little Pony collection was the envy of every girl who was invited to look but not TOUCH during her My Little Pony themed birthday party. She was the child of a divorce and her father lived in California. She would always come back from summer break with loads of cool new toys, all given to soothe her tattered little soul.

As the music blared some older children joined in the dancing. Some bobbed their heads, some flailed wildly attempting to perform complicated break-dancing moves they’d seen on T.V. One of the 5^th grade boys stood silently in the center of the group performing the “mime in the box” in time to the music. Adrian thought it was the most exciting thing. Her tiny feet tapped the soft ground beneath her. She wanted to dance, she longed to wave her arms and twirl through the yard. She had a momentary fantasy that she was in a music video. The dingy brick schoolhouse was replaced by New York City, cobblestone streets, lights shining everywhere, and with a red leather jacket, she danced in time with all the other children. Adrian watched the playground for a moment longer as a warm ball of excitement built in her stomach and she stepped forward into the circle of dancing children.

A whistle blew loudly and all the children looked up to see the previously distracted recess teacher trotting briskly toward the grassy yard with a stern expression. Adrian stepped backward toward the fence. She watched as the group scattered and Kerry’s hot pink stereo was confiscated. The 5^th grade boy still stood in the center of the yard like an abandoned puppet. His head rested on his right shoulder and his facial expression was frozen in mock horror and below his bent elbow, his hand dangled in the breeze.