Her name was Karen. She was prettier than the colors in my big box of crayons that had the sharpener in the back. I drew pictures of her. She had sausage curls the color of Umellow Yellow. Blue eyes. Cornflower blue. Her lips were Tickle Me Pink and they did, too.
She was the fastest reader in kindergarten. She was an older woman. I had just turned five and she was five and a half. Every day at snack time I gave her my cookie. I wanted to kiss the cookie crumbs off her lips until they turned Jazzberry Jam. But she had a boyfriend. His name was Rusty. He had Fuzzy Wuzzy brown hair and shit brown eyes. (that one’s not an official Crayola color, though it should be.)
I told Karen to meet me in the girl’s room. She did. And she didn’t seem surprised at all when I backed her up against a stall door and kissed her. In fact, she seemed downright responsive.
At recess, Karen told Rusty I had kissed her. He tried to ambush me from behind. I jumped to the side, stuck out one foot and tripped him. After that all I had to do was straddle him and pound his face with my fists. I stopped just short of whipping him with the jump rope.
I was suspended from Kindergarten for a whole week.
When I went back to school, Rusty was giving Karen cookies and kisses.
I hated Karen. I don’t know what I ever saw in her in the first place. I drew more pictures of her. This time her hair was the color of Neon Carrot and her eyes were Inchworm and her lips were Tumbleweed. I wore all the ugly crayon colors down to little nubs.
I was saving all the pretty crayons for Tracy. She had Goldenrod hair, Shamrock eyes and Cotton Candy lips…