At school, I was defiant. They had all-day kindergarten there. We even had naptime. My teacher wanted me to take my brand-new Holly Hobby rain boots off the first week of school to get on a nap mat, to take a nap. The nap – okay. Take off my new boots – not okay. She lost the battle, and I was sent home with a note pinned to my sweater, telling my parents how I was defiant. Thank God dad wasn’t home. That belt would have swatted my naked ass and legs, leaving welts for days.
Right from the start, I was not too fond of school. I was quiet and withdrawn; the other kids bullied me. They teased and laughed at me when I accidentally left my Dukes of Hazard lunchbox on the basketball court. The street sweeper decided to be an a*****e and flatten it. What was left of the lunchbox I carried home from school? Dad and mom managed to get a great laugh out of it too. I was the only one that didn’t think it was funny.
Troubles with dad were about to begin, the bullying at school was about to start, and a shitstorm of a life was waiting ahead of me. But at the moment, I was a four-year-old little girl, with hopes, dreams, and someone who thought she had a whole life ahead of her, with endless possibilities.