Marisol looked like Frankenstein’s
monster wearing the brown leather stride rite booties. No one in kindergarten
wore them. The shoelaces tied to her ankles. Then came the braces. Wide black
bars, she guessed from the dungeon hidden in the mad scientist’s castle and the
straps with multiple metal loopholes that fastened over her chins. Those straps
were scraps from the laboratory that held the monster on its gurney. The other
kids, mostly the boys, would point and yell at her, “Frankenstein!”
Her friends stood by close with their legs, covering Marisol’s leg-straightening bars. The guards protecting the monster instead of attacking. That’s when she thought about using this moment to her advantage. She raised my arms up, fingers straight, and roared. Her voice vibrated in her chest.
Power. Stand up proud.
Marisol chased the boys, made them
screamed and slip on the ground. Her guards laughed and cheered, “You got this.”
