Chapter 2: Memories and Mockery

Derek and I were childhood friends—we’d known each other since we were three.

Our parents had been close for over a decade, living right across the hall from each other in our old apartment complex in Maple Heights.

I’d liked Derek since I was little.

In elementary school, I was always bullied by the boys.

One boy was the worst. He sat behind me, pulled my hair, stuck chewing gum on my chair, even put firecrackers in my desk.

I cried to the teacher. She scolded him, but then she laughed and said, “He only does it because he likes you.”

I didn’t believe it. The boy didn’t change, so I went home and told my parents.

My parents were furious and wanted to talk to the teacher immediately. Mr. Lawson happened to be visiting that day, and when he heard, he called Derek over and told him to look out for me at school from then on.

Derek was my age, but we weren’t in the same class. The next day during recess, Derek marched into my third-grade classroom, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum, and yanked that kid right out by the backpack strap.

He’d always been tall and tough, even as a kid. He threw punches until the other boys were bawling and the teacher had to break it up.

Before leaving, he glared at the rest. “Anyone who dares mess with Natalie again, just wait and see!”

That’s when I started liking him.

After that, I became his little shadow, following him everywhere.

Derek didn’t like me tagging along. He was a bit macho and thought hanging around a weak girl all day wasn’t cool.

But I was persistent, always chasing after him, calling him “Derek” all the time.

Years passed like that, and gradually he softened, no longer pushing me away.

I started to notice his gaze lingering on me more and more. When our eyes met, he’d sometimes get flustered, stammer, or change the subject with flushed cheeks.

Mr. Lawson once joked, “Since these two get along so well, why not arrange a childhood engagement?”

Derek said nothing, but he squeezed my hand tightly. I saw his ears turn red.

My heart felt sweet, and I shouted, “Okay! I want to marry Derek!”

But when we got to high school, everything started to change.

At the end of our first semester, a transfer student joined our class.

Her name was Aubrey Fields. I heard her parents moved for work. She had perfect grades and a bright, pretty face.

On her first day, she walked in with chestnut curls and grinned at the homeroom teacher.

“Teacher, this is natural. My hair’s light-colored and naturally curly.”

Then she turned to scan the class. When her eyes landed on me, she stared for a beat, then suddenly burst out laughing.

"Oh my god… help… where did this Barbie princess come from… hahahahaha. Everything is pink, my goodness, you’re in high school and still acting cute? So embarrassing."

The whole class looked my way.

My face burned red.

I loved pink—almost obsessively. My pink backpack had a faded Hello Kitty patch, my phone case sparkled with glitter, and my water bottle was covered in Lisa Frank stickers. Pink hair clip, pink T-shirt, pink sweater—pink everything.

Because of it, I’d been teased before. In elementary school, boys called me fake and delicate; some girls said I was pretending to be cute.

But most people were nice. Many girls told me I was adorable and that pink suited me.

This was the first time I’d been mocked so bluntly and publicly. I wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Wow, did Mattel sponsor your closet or what? You know Barbie’s not real, right?"

Aubrey winked at me, pretending innocence. “Sorry, Pinky, didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You’re just so… bubblegum, you know?”

“All right, it’s your first day. That’s enough,”

Derek’s impatient voice cut in. I turned to see him glaring at Aubrey, clearly annoyed.

Aubrey raised her eyebrows, staring right back at him.

“Oh? The princess’s knight has arrived?”

“What are you talking about! Are you serious?”

Derek slammed the desk, frustration in every line of his face.

The teacher quickly scolded him and told him to sit down, then assigned Aubrey to the only empty seat.

Whether by coincidence or not, the only empty seat was right in front of Derek, making them desk mates.

Even now, I remember the whole class holding its breath, like we were trapped in a bad teen sitcom. The fluorescent lights flickered, and the scent of dry-erase marker hung in the air—a weirdly ordinary backdrop for the day everything started to shift between us.