Status: Work In Progress
Bitten
Chapter Two
My life was relatively normal up until age 7. At that time I realized I wasn’t like the other boys in my class. I didn’t like being dirty or playing sports. I loved letting my older sister dress me up and put make up on me to make me feel pretty. I didn’t like boys or water balloons, and I especially didn’t like girls, they had cooties.
As I got older things didn’t change. Girls were icky: then I met Jenny. Jenny was a new student in my class who came mid-year when her parents got a divorce and her mother was forced to move to the “slums” that is Clearview, Virginia. When I first saw Jenny she had her hair in pig tails and she had on a denim dress with a white tee shirt under it; at that moment I knew I wanted it.
The teacher told her to find an open seat and get out her notebook because we were practicing our cursive. She sat down in the seat next to me and smiled, I smiled back.
“Hi, I’m Jenny.” She said
“I’m Adrain, but people call me Rain.”
“That’s a funny name.” She said while giggling
“Um, thanks?”
She smiled again, “Your welcome, and I like your shirt.”
“Thanks! I like your dress, wanna switch clothes at lunch time? You could wear mind and I could wear yours!” I said very excitedly. That’s when she said something that hurt and confused my little 9 year old brain.
“Boys don’t wear dress.”
As I got older things didn’t change. Girls were icky: then I met Jenny. Jenny was a new student in my class who came mid-year when her parents got a divorce and her mother was forced to move to the “slums” that is Clearview, Virginia. When I first saw Jenny she had her hair in pig tails and she had on a denim dress with a white tee shirt under it; at that moment I knew I wanted it.
The teacher told her to find an open seat and get out her notebook because we were practicing our cursive. She sat down in the seat next to me and smiled, I smiled back.
“Hi, I’m Jenny.” She said
“I’m Adrain, but people call me Rain.”
“That’s a funny name.” She said while giggling
“Um, thanks?”
She smiled again, “Your welcome, and I like your shirt.”
“Thanks! I like your dress, wanna switch clothes at lunch time? You could wear mind and I could wear yours!” I said very excitedly. That’s when she said something that hurt and confused my little 9 year old brain.
“Boys don’t wear dress.”