“Pinch me,” he whispered across the two foot tall table in our kindergarten room filled with hopes and dreams, interrupting me with my drawing of my favorite things. “What?,” I responded. I despise him, with his dark brown hair covering his eyes unable to see his massive forehead, his crooked smile; missing two teeth which made him look evil, and his fancy clothes which I envy, since I had the hand me downs my cousins thought would be cute on me. He thinks he is better than me at everything. Everything was always a competition with him. Not to mention, I am five years old. Do I even know what the word competition means? Even if I look at a dictionary or my parents explained the definition to me, I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.
The other day, he thought it was funny to beat me at coloring. We made it a race to see who would color the same picture the fastest. I carefully colored the dress a bright red plum color and the sky a calming blue just like the ocean looks on a good day at the beach. But of course, he won. Which it isn’t fair because he colored the dress a black funeral color and the sky a green under the sea color and barely stayed inside the lines. Was it fair? I didn’t think so. All day he took pride in the fact that he won the race. This is why I have build a hatred for him.
“I said pinch me!,” practically screaming at me, “Even if you pinch me it wont hurt. I can pinch harder than you,” he added while anticipating the pinch, which I longed to do for so long.
“Alex, I don’t want to pinch you.” I wanted him to leave me alone today, I don’t want to be bothered today. I do not feel like feeling inferior to him again, for like the million time.
“Just do it,” he said.
“NO!!!!!!,” I yelled.
“DO IT!!!!! DO IT!!!!! DO IT!!!!,” shouting at me and attracting attention to the table next to us with the other children playing their candy land game so peacefully, and then I had the urge to pinch him and I did.
“See it didn’t hurt me. Your so weak Camille,” he said merrily, which made me wish I pinched him harder to prove I can make him cry.
“Oh yeah you think you can pinch harder? Well then pinch me.” I responded.
“Okay,” he said, while he pinched me.
It did not hurt one bit. It was even disappointing how much it did not hurt me, but I decided to cry anyways. I made sure the whole kindergarten room heard me cry, feel the pain they thought I had because of the weak pinch.
Mrs. Glen, our thin slender teacher, walked over to and came to my rescue. She asked me what was bothering me. I told her that Alex pinched me and it hurt me A LOT.
“Did you really pinch her Alex?,” there was seriousness in her tone of voice.
“Yes, Mrs. Glen, but she told me too,” scared because he knows she was not going to believe her.
“NO, I DID NOT!,” I said, still bawling over the pinch.
“Alex, you are going to have to spend the rest of the day in the naughty chair. We do not pinch other children in this classroom and I’m afraid I’m going to have to have a talk with your Father when he comes to pick you up,” she said disapprovingly. “You need to walk over there and have a moment to think about what you did to Camille, but first you need to apologize to her.”
“Sorry,” he said, barely even looking at me.
I did not respond. I only decided to stop crying.
Mrs. Glen walked over to him over to the naughty chair and came back to me, “Are you okay now Camille?”
“Yes, Mrs. Glen,” I said.
“Good, now go back to drawing and call me when you need me.” She then walked over to her chair, which she would remain for most of the day.
I looked over to Alex. Seeing his head down and his little figure sitting in the chair gave me joy I never thought a five year old like me would ever enjoy. I knew tomorrow he was going to try to get me into trouble, but it did not worry me for I was happy. I went back to drawing my favorite things with a smile on my face.
