ribbons ; grayson dolan

o ne

7th

i check the clock
three.
two.
one.

and there he was.

i was reading my book silently, dreading the sound of his sneakers hitting the library carpet--making his was over to me.

"caaaaassie.", he teased me.
as always.

i knew what was coming soon.
i don't even know why i tried to make my hair look nice anymore.

i look up.
"what, grayson?"
i say this every time, every day.

it's as if the hope that he'll say something else keeps me alive.

"you're such a baby, cassie. nobody even reads anymore. and besides, we're twelve. why do you wear those stupid ribbons in your hair?"

i huff.
"because i like them, grayson."

"you really are such a baby, cassidy. i swear. when will you ever grow up?"

and just like the usual, he pulls one of the bottom strings from the pink ribbons tied to the bottoms of my dutch braids.
and the neat little bows my mom put in for me are gone.

he laughs and walks out of the room.
ethan turns to me from his seat.

"i would stop him, you know; i should stop him, that is."

i smile. ethan has never been cruel to me the way that grayson is.

"thank you, ethan. your thought counts. honest."

the thing is, i always admired grayson, for whatever reasons.

i guess it was just because he was brave. he was also confident. and smart, too; he just didn't try. and he was popular. and sporty. and he was even kind of cute. as cute as a seventh grader could be, at least.

i go back to my reading, or at least i try to...but all i can hear in my mind is him. saying cassidy. especially the way he had.

i always went by cassie. always.
and i always wore bright, fun colors.
pastels were a personal favorite: pinks, purples, yellows. i just loved them.
and, i always wore ribbons in the bottom of my hair, which was usually neatly braided into two nice dutch braids.

it was all a personal preference, though.

i smile. i'm proud of myself for embracing who i am.

even if grayson's not.