Mud Pies
On a muggy August day in the mosquito-infested, lily-pad filled bogs of Central Florida, 8-year-old Clara Rupp could be found chasing frogs and making delicious, inedible mud pies that she would later take home to serve to her mother, father, and baby brother, along with the frogs. Clara Rupp spent most of her time out in the bogs when she grew bored of the tire swing and annoyed by chores. Her skin had become tan and freckled by this time of the summer, and her dirty blonde hair was streaked with perfect gold strands that made her sapphire eyes practically glow. She was a lovely young girl who had been lovingly kissed by the summer sun.
She'd already had three frogs in a single large mason jar and was slapping at a pancake of mud, knee-deep in water and getting the edges of her baby blue jean shorts wet, when she was rudely interrupted by her 7-year-old neighbor, Bentley Kim. Bentley was a wild girl from a wild family, and everything about her amplified this fact. Her ginger skin did not tan, but was instead red and peeling on her bare shoulders and legs. Her freckles were abrasive and her hair was a riper shade of orange than the Florida fruit. Her eyes were less an emerald green than an avocado green, but shined just the same with her abundant energy. Beneath her rough exterior was a child who would grow into a beautiful woman, but this was hidden beneath a layer of dirt and a gap between her front teeth.
Bentley was sprinting towards the unassuming Clara, and without letting up on her momentum even the slightest bit, she ran into Clara, tackling the innocent girl and sending them both down into the muddy water.
Bentley came back up first, a lily-pad stuck in one of her pigtails and laughing manically. "WOOOO-EEEE, Clara Rudd! I'm feelin' pretty COOLED-OFF right about now, ain't you?"
Clara surfaced, inner rage blooming in her round face. "No, Bentley Kim," she growled, wiping mud from her cheek, "I just feel filthy."
"What's wrong wit' bein' filthy, Clara?" Bentley asked loudly, her brows knitting up in a kind of concern. "Little Princess Rudd too CLEANLY 'n' PROPER fer a lil' MUD WRESTLING?"
Bentley laughed boisterously, snorting from time to time, and Clara just sat there in the bog and stared at her for a long moment.
Then, in a quiet but deadly fashion, Clara Rudd said, "Of course not," and she reached down into the mud, took up a handful, and smashed it directly into Bentley Kim's smiling face.
Bentley was shocked for a moment, but reciprocated quickly, and the two girls laughed and threw mud until the sun set hours later.
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On a sunny September day five years later, 8th grade Clara Rudd is dressed to impress in a short pink skirt, puffy white blouse, and lacy flats. She'd done her dirty blonde hair up in a regal bun, two loose curls hanging down on either side of her flawless face, and her mother had bought her a pink, white, and orange Vera Bradley backpack. She took a deep breath and strode through the doors of her middle school, quietly vowing to herself that this year she wouldn't be a shy, quiet little loser. This year, she would become a part of the 'in' crowd if it killed her.
She spotted the beautiful, fashionable girls she had made friends with at Girl Scout Camp and rushed over to them, already putting her plan into action. She introduced and reintroduced herself, smiling gregariously and comparing class schedules with the other girls. All was going well until she was rudely interrupted by her 7th grade neighbor, Bentley Kim. Bentley was wearing something no one in the 'in' crowd would be caught dead wearing; baggy, grass-stained jeans with the knees all torn up; a men's t-shirt with some stupid Simpson's character on a skateboard on the front; and gross white tennis shoes splattered with mud and paint. Her tangled orange hair was in two pigtails, her burnt skin was peeling and acne-ridden, and in her mouth were the #1 killer of any teenage girl's reputation and social status- braces.
Bentley ran up to Clara without hesitation, ignoring her preppy new friends and waving her hand wildly in hello, her beaten-up brown backpack thumping against her back.
"Clara Rudd! HEEEEEY, Clara Rudd!" Bentley was calling to her old friend almost like one would call to a pig, and Clara was mortified. "HEEEY! D'we have any classes together, Clara? I'm likin' yer fancy geddup, by the way. My momma tol' me to dress nice for the first day of school, but I was like N'AWWWW, momma! I ain't gonna go wearin' my church clothes just to impress some stupid ki-"
Clara grabbed Bentley by the shoulders roughly, shoving her towards the empty space near the water fountains and away from the group of shocked, giggling, sneering girls who she had been trying desperately to make friends with.
"Bentley! What're you doing?" she whispered loudly in the ginger's face, teeth clenched desperately.
Bentley looked utterly stunned by Clara's actions. "Why, Miss Rudd, I was jus' sayin' hi, is all. I-"
"No, Bentley!" Clara cut her off, releasing the girl's shoulders and turning to go. "DON'T say hi to me! You're not COOL!"
"But... Clara..." Bentley gazed at her old pal helplessly.
"No, Bentley Kim! Stay AWAY from me!"
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On a chilly November day four years later, high school senior Clara Rudd was, to no one's surprise, the most popular girl in the school. Her beauty had boys lined up to even get near her, and no matter how much other girls tried to hate her, she was simply too nice to be truly despised. She had won homecoming queen and would probably win prom queen this year, going out with a bang. She had a close-knit circle of fashionable, gorgeous friends and an outer circle of rich, party-animal friends that she could turn to for anything and everything. She had died her hair a bright platinum blonde and began wearing expensive designer make-up. Her eyes, though, were the same sapphire blue they'd been on that muggy day in August, nine years back. This November day, Clara Rudd was heading out into the school's parking lot to hop into her shiny red Mercedes Benz and drive home to her usually empty house.
She stepped out of the doors and was crossing to her car, waving goodbye to some of her friends as she went, when she was rudely interrupted by her high school junior neighbor, Bentley Kim. Bentley had lost the braces but gotten trendy, square-rimmed glasses. Her freckles were still prominent and her scorching hair was still pulled into two pigtails, but there was a headband with a bow around her head, and her clothes, though still not at all form-fitting, were not covered in mud and dirt.
This time, Bentley was not running at maddening speeds, but rather walking sheepishly and thoughtfully towards her. They had parked two spaces away from one another, and they met eyes for the first time in years.
"Clara Rudd," Bentley said, and the statement sounded like an accusation to Clara's ears. "Hey. How you been?"
"Just fine, Bentley," Clara replied, feeling sheepish and suddenly a little sweaty. "I, y'know, won homecoming and all, and I'm in the Community Service Club, and..."
There was a brief, contemplative silence. Clara bit her lip as Bentley stared deeply at her with those avocado-colored eyes.
Suddenly, Bentley smiled. "Y'know, Miss Rudd, I... I was down out near the bogs the other day. And I was thinkin'.... I was thinkin' bout this girl I once knew." Her smile grew as she gazed off into the distance, seeing 8-year-old Clara Rudd with her dirty blonde hair and jean shorts. "She would make mud pies down there, and catch frogs... And we would toss mud at each other sometimes, like little boys do, only we were lil' girls... We were awfully close when we were lil' girls..." She paused, looking back at Clara, her eyes conveying a deep, powerful meaning. "I remember that lil' girl pretty vividly."
Clara Rudd smiled at Bentley Kim. "Yeah... I remember her too."
