Why Not? *ON HOLD*

A/N: PART 1

Hey guys. Today's update is part 1 on how I got bullied.

So here goes nothing.

When I was 5, we moved to Arizona from Mexico.

I did not know 1 drop of English, only Spanish.

1 week later, I started kindergarten at a nearby elementary school.

We drove to the new school, and I excitedly chatted with my mom, while my dad was driving.

Finally, we walked in to my new class.

"Mami, te vas a quedar, verdad?" I asked.

For those who don't understand Spanish, this means, "Mommy, you are gonna stay, right?"

She shook her head.

The teacher said some words I did not understand, and my dad translated, telling me to go sit down.

I did as told.

Kids looked at me as if I were an alien.

I felt so intimated.

I sat down at and empty seat, and the girls smiled.

I smiled back.

When I turned around to look at my parents, they were gone.

I felt tears filling my eyes.

The teacher looked at me, and said something.

I looked down, and shook my head.

"Que paso, y como te llamas?" one of the girls said.

("What happened, and what's your name?")

I looked up in excitement, and told her.

This went on for weeks, and Girl 1 became my translator.

One day, I ran to my bus.

I got on, and sat down next to BFF 1.

We began smiling and drawing, since she spoke very little Spanish, and I only new a few sentences in English.

Suddenly, a big girl got on the bus, and looked at us.

BFF 1 looked at me nervously, and pointed to the back of the bus.

"I'm going to sentarme with mi hermano."

I nodded.

The tough girl sat next to me, pushing me to the window.

We were sitting right behind the bus driver.

She looked at me, and started talking to me in Spanish.

"Awww... Que bonita chamarra. Se me antojo tirarla en la basura." she said.

("Awww... what a pretty jacket. I feel like throwing it in the trash.")

She grabbed it from my lap and rolled it up in a ball.

I began to feel upset from my stomach.

She touched my hair next.

"Awwwww....que bonito cabello. Se me antoja cortartelo. Esta bien?"

("Awwww....pretty hair. I feel like cutting it. Can I?")

She took out a pair of scissors.

I shook my head.

She shrugged, and pulled on my hair.

A big wad of hair was in her hands.

She put it in my hands.

The wad was bigger than a 5-year-old's hand.