Trappings of Youth: Chapter 1

***Isabella: Age 8***

I hate moving so much, my mom always has us on the run like we are fleeing from the law or something. My mom doesn’t seem to mind, though. She always has a place lined up for us, usually with a boyfriend or a friend of hers. There were a couple of times when we had to stay in a shelter, but it was always safe, and they had tv’s in the common areas with cartoons for us kids to watch.

My mom is a very outgoing person. Mom loves to drink, dance, and do karaoke. She always seems to have a lot of friends wherever we end up; and guy after guy. She isn’t horrible looking; her hair is red, thin, and stick straight, that rests at the top of her shoulders. Mom never does anything with it, usually. It is always down, but seems to be in pretty good shape. She has piercing blue eyes, I would say that is her most attractive feature. Small lips with lines from years of smoking. She looks a little older than her actual age. I have always assumed it is because she has had a rough life; you can see it in her energy. Mom is short and thin, though not fit. She is an okay mom and by “okay” I mean she keeps us alive.

Mom doesn’t really pay attention to us kids unless she is lonely and between boyfriends. She makes us watch scary movies with her, but other than that, she is always busy with work, guys, or her friends. Mom went through a few rough years of heavy drugs. I remember when I was about four years old there were always razors and mirrors with powder on them on our coffee table, but I never went near any of it. I tried to stay with my brother, Adam, following him around like a lost puppy. I never thought much about mom not giving us kids much attention. It felt normal to me, because all her friends treated their kids that same way.

This is going to be my sixth school in the past three years. I am not certain if this is normal, but I’m pretty sure it’s not. It is already hard enough for me to make friends; I feel like I am awkward and can’t get attached to anyone, because we will most likely be moving again in a few months. This new town is smaller than the others. We never move to cities, just small towns, and Crawford is tiny. I guess this will be my new home, for a while anyways.

Mom has a new boyfriend, James, we just moved in with him. He is nice and at least keeps his hands to himself; unlike many of mom’s other boyfriends. Mom didn’t protect me from those dark nights, but Adam tried. There was a period of time that I didn’t think we would make it. Adam did his best to protect us, but when you are a child trying to fight off a grown man, the odds aren’t usually in your favor.

The year and a half my mom was with Darren was scary, and I prayed mom would take us out of that situation. Bruises, sleepless nights, and going to bed hungry was not what any parent should allow or want for their children. Teachers never did anything, and we were too scared to talk about it for the fear he would find out.

When mom was finally brave enough to leave, she packed us up while he was at work one day, and we moved two states away. I knew that she was scared he would find us. I was, too, but so far, he has not found us, and Adam and I are safe.

James drinks a lot, like the others, so I continue to keep my guard up. I am used to being hit and abused, so it is nice to have a break from that sort of environment. James is kind, never fake or mean to us and he makes sure we are always fed, full, and warm. I hope mom will keep him around forever.

Driving to school this morning was intimidating. I wonder what it will be like and if I will make any friends on the first day. We are already late, nothing out of the normal for us. When mom oversees getting us somewhere, I know that we won’t be on time. I really don’t want to walk into a classroom, late, and have everyone stare at me, it’s just too embarrassing.

The ladies are nice, in the office, where Adam and I get enrolled for our individual classrooms. The school is small, which I like, not much to it, which means there is nowhere to get lost. There are two halls; one hall heads to the high/junior-high section of the school and the other hall heads towards the elementary section of the school. One of the secretaries walks us down to the classroom I will be in, and the other secretary shows my brother the way to his class.

The secretary that walks me to my classroom is Candice. She is very short and round; not fat in any way, she simply has a round shape to her. Her face is pleasantly kind and you couldn’t help but smile when you look at her. She has short black hair, peppered with grey. Very kind, dark eyes that invite you in for a hug. Her voice is soft and light, a voice you could fall asleep to while she reads you a bedtime story. “I really like her,” I think to myself.

I hate being separated from my brother. He always handles the new schools well. He makes friends easily, but he also makes enemies just as quick. I guess it is because he is very protective of me, so if he thinks someone is picking on me, he is right there, ready to kick their ass in my defense. This one time, Adam broke a kid’s nose and kicked him in the nuts because the kid pulled my hair and spit on me. I am very protective of him, as well, but not to that extreme. It’s not easy being mixed, either. We aren’t growing up in a horribly racist time, but there are racists out there and kids who try to hurt our feelings by calling us names. It never bothers me much, but it really pisses my brother off. He is a little darker than me, but still has a pretty light skin tone. Adam has the black curly afro hair and dark brown eyes. His lips were full, like mine, and he has such a contagious smile. He is hard not to get along with, so I never understand why some boys don’t like him.

As we approach the classroom, I can feel my heart beating faster. I am so nervous, and I know that everyone is going to stare. I have put on my best outfit to impress. I have on black leggings, a hot pink mini-skirt, and my Tasmanian Devil T-shirt. I am looking pretty good.

We walk in the classroom and, just as I expect, everyone turns and looks . . . or stare, rather. All I can do is look down because I don’t want to make eye contact with anyone.

The teacher walks over to my mom and Candice, they exchange some greetings. The teacher introduces herself to me.

“Hi, Isabella, I am Mrs. Granger. It’s very nice to meet you,” she says with a smile. She is older and very short, just a couple inches taller than me. She reminds me of the nursery rhyme, Old Mother Hubbard. She has grey streaks through her auburn hair, looking to be well into her sixties.

I give her a smile, barely lifting my head to look at her.

“Class, this is Isabella. She just moved here from Harrison. Everyone, say hi!” She was a little too enthusiastic about this, and I was utterly embarrassed.

Everyone responds in unison, “Hi Isabella!”

I just wave my hand in the direction of the other students. Mrs. Granger escorts me to an empty desk. There are only twelve students in the classroom, which is nice because it isn’t too overwhelming.

“Isabella, we are just finishing up with math. Why don’t you just sit and listen? We will get you all set up at break.” Mrs. Granger turns back to the board and picks up where she left off. My mom waves goodbye and walks out. All the kids are looking in their book and following along with the teacher. It is super awkward to just sit here with nothing to do. I look around at the other students, some keep looking at me and smile when I catch them, that helps me feel more relaxed.

After what feels like an eternity, but was only twenty minutes, the bell rings for break. The kids quickly put their books away and get up to line up at the door as I awkwardly sit here, not knowing what to do. The teacher walks up to my desk and smiles. “They are going to head to art, but I will have you stay here and we will get all your books and get you set up.” She smells like old lady perfume, but it isn’t too overpowering.

We get all my books, gather all the supplies I will need, and I set up my desk. I am taking my time, because I don’t want to walk into art class late and have everyone look at me again, even though I love art. I am pretty good at drawing, it helps me escape my own mind sometimes. I must have gotten that talent from my grandmother, she was a great artist. She would draw mermaids, fairies, unicorns, and lots of other mythical stuff. She was so talented, I don’t know why she never sold any of her work. I wished I would one day draw just as amazing as she did. If I inherited that kind of talent, I would sell my paintings.

It doesn’t take me as long to get things set up like I was hoping it would, so Mrs. Granger walks me up to the art room. This room is a lot smaller than our classroom, but since there are only twelve kids, it fits the students pretty good. Mrs. Granger walks me over to the art teacher, who is sitting down. She is a heavy-set lady with short, curly black hair. She is well into her fifties and has a bright, bubbly smile that matches her personality. She is loud, but happy. I notice she has a cane sitting by her chair. Of course, she doesn’t stand up to greet me, not that I expect her to. “Hi, Isabella. I am Mrs. Razor, how are you today?” She asks loudly.

“Good,” I reply with my head down, barely making any eye contact.

“Why don’t you go ahead and sit down at that table,” she says as she motions me over to where she has my place set up. “I already have it set up for you. We are working with primary colors, so go ahead and draw whatever you want, using primary colors only.”

As I walk past some students, they look up from their work to briefly watch me. I was scanning what everyone else was drawing, so I would have some idea of what to do. I mean, it seemed pretty easy; draw a picture with the primary colors. I wasn’t a kindergartner, so I knew what my primary colors were. There isn’t much you can make with just red, yellow, blue and green, but I noticed some of the other kids’ pictures, and they mixed their colors to make other colors. That is where creativity comes in, and I can totally do this. I sit down and start drawing grass with some clouds and the sun. I make some flowers in the grass, but I wasn’t too into it as I was still feeling really nervous about being at a new school. I try to not look up from what I am doing, but I also want to get a good look at the other kids in my class. I guess I could wait until recess to people watch, but I also don’t want to be left out.

“Five minutes! Start cleaning up your areas and line up at the door,” Mrs. Razor’s voice booms over the class, startling me a little. “Make sure you put everything away and clear your area.”

I start to slowly clean up, watching what the other kids were doing so I knew where to put all of my things. A couple kids smile at me, but no one has talked to me, yet. One girl caught my eye. I had noticed her when I first walked in, as well, almost like I was drawn to her, in a way. She was about my height, with long dirty blonde hair. She has blue-grey eyes that were hidden behind big red glasses. She has a lot of freckles, like the amount one might see on those who are said to have been kissed by summer. She was a little bigger than me, but not by much, and has a very shy smile. She was also one who kept looking at me. I was hoping I would get a chance to make friends with her. Everyone seems to like her, so I assume that she is going to be nice.

We line up and I wait back a bit, so I could be last in line. We walk back down to the classroom and get situated in our desks. I couldn’t help but look over at the girl, again. This time she was looking back at me and she smiles. I smile back and look away. Is making a friend going to be this easy? I thought. That would be so great. I guess I will have to wait and see.

Mrs. Granger gets up in front of the class and talks about the field trip that is coming up tomorrow. I am a little excited. A field trip, on my second day at a new school. That would be awesome! She tells us that we will be riding bikes to a classmate’s house and learning about their farm animals, lunch would be provided, and a bunch of stuff I stopped listening to after she said bike. I don’t have a bike. Does this mean I wasn’t allowed to go? Would I have to stay home from school and miss out?

Recess came quickly. I am really nervous, but I want to observe the other kids and see where I might fit in. There wasn’t much to fit into. There are only about 40 kids on the playground and that was K-6th grade. I walk slowly around, watching kids play on the monkey bars and swings. I feel a hand tap my shoulder. It is the blonde girl. When she touched me, I feel a shock, like an awakening of purpose, rush through my body. She must feel it too because her eyes get really wide and she backs up a bit. I could have sworn I saw a flash in her eyes. We stand there, staring at each other for a few moments.

“Hi, my name is Ashlyn. Wanna go play over by the big toy?” She asks with a cautious smile. I can still feel a pulse running through me and by how she is looking at me, I know that she feels something as well.

“Sure, I’m Isabella. Thank you for asking me to play,” I say shyly. After the words left my mouth, I thought how stupid they sounded.

“I didn’t mean to shock you. That was weird huh?” By the way she asks, I wonder if she is questioning if I feel that too.

“Ya, that was weird. We weren’t even on carpet or anything.” I laugh it off as we walk over to the big toy.

She introduces me to a couple of her friends and we all play together. It felt natural, like I belong here, as if we have been friends our whole lives. Every time I get near Ashlyn, I feel something pulling at me. I’m not sure what it is, but I know that she is going to be a very important person in my life.

As I lay in bed, trying to fall asleep. I start to dream of me and Ashlyn. We are glowing and when we touch, there is a bright light and I feel powerful; magical.