Cornflower Pink
Katie Fuller

 




For some reason it is not hard for me to remember my days as a child. I can even remember my first day of preschool like it was yesterday. But overall, Kindergarten stands in my memory to be my favorite grade in elementary school. I loved learning letters and numbers with the flash cards that had bright pictures on them. I always participated in singing my A B C’s. I even followed the rules at nap time, which wasn’t always easy considering it was right before lunch. However, no matter what day of the week it was, I would always try to fake a tummy ache everyday around two o’clock because it was arts and crafts time, and I hated arts and crafts. Unfortunately, it only worked a couple of times before Mrs. Loftman called my bluff:

“Now Katie, you must be really sick if your tummy hurts every day at two o’clock?” she would say. “Maybe you have the two o’clock virus?”

 Mrs. Loftman was smart because she knew exactly what to say if I continued to try to go to the nurse.
“I think that we better call your father and ask him what we should do about your two o’clock virus, don’t you think?”

I knew I lost when she would bring my dad in the conversation, because although my mom sometimes gave into my theatrics; daddy always meant business.
 
I don’t know many other kids that hated this period in class, but I sure did. Although Mrs. Loftman would give me gold stars for all my artwork, I felt like I was the only kid who could never fold or cut straight. I hated when we had to display our artwork on the walls because mine seemed to be the only one that wasn’t perfect. At least that’s what Tamara Bailey told me. Now don’t get me wrong, I loved coloring in my Care Bears coloring book, but unfortunately my teacher didn’t think my scribbles outside of the lines were considered art. I don’t remember how many times I was told my coloring needed to be “cleaner” and “not so messy.” I remember another time getting teased by Tamara Bailey, who of course colored in the lines perfectly, because I accidentally connected a dog and a cat by coloring over both of them with the same crayon. She called me “dogcat” for the rest of the day, until my best friend Briana threw a marker at her and made her cry. Although I was glad to have a friend like Briana, I was afraid to color again in class for the rest of the week.
 
I believed the problem wasn’t my work, but it was because I was always given the “cornflower pink” crayon. I’m not sure why I despised this color, but I sighed every time I got it. I tried to sit in different places when the teacher handed out the crayons, but it never failed, the cornflower pink was out to get me. It seemed to follow me wherever I would go. I tried to believe the doctor when he told me that his bubble gum flavored medicine was supposed to taste good, but he didn’t believe me when I told him that the cornflower pink color destroyed the yummy taste for me on purpose. I was horrified when I was told the color of my birth stone was pink. I asked my mom if I could change my birthday to Christmas, but she said no. I was even convinced that the evil crayon wrote my Aunt Vicki a letter telling her that I wanted every article of clothing she bought me to be pink. It must have written her every year because the color of the clothes never changed.

I hated the color pink because I didn’t consider myself one of those girly girls who wore pink everyday with bows and ribbons in their hair like Tamara Bailey. I remember getting upset because I wanted to have the “cerulean blue” crayon that Cody Lawson always got to have. I tried once to ask Cody if he would trade his cerulean blue crayon for the cornflower pink. I even said “please!” And everyone knows that if you say “please” it means you have to do it. That was my mom’s rule when she asked me to “please” clean my room. I was shocked when he laughed in my face and told all the boys that I must have been a boy too because girls can’t like boy colors. I was devastated.

When I went home I started to cry when my mom asked me how my day at school went. She was upset that Sally called me a name that made me sad, and that Cody said I was a boy.

“Now Katie, did you tell them sticks and stones?”
This was my mom’s solutions to every confrontation until I was in high school.
“Yes, mom, I even said ‘please!’”
My mom gave me a hug and kiss.
“Don’t worry honey, I will call Mrs. Loftman and straighten everything up.”


I was excited to go to school the next morning to see if maybe today would be the day that I got to use the cerulean blue crayon. I even closed my eyes and opened them when she placed the crayon in my hand so that I could be even more surprised when I got my color. But when I opened my eyes the only color pointing straight at me was the gross cornflower pink. I couldn’t believe it when I saw that Tamara Bailey was holding my cerulean blue crayon. However, I remembered that pink was her favorite color and that there was a good chance of trading with me.

“Hey Tamara, would you rather have the pink crayon then the blue crayon? I know pinks your favorite color.” I asked.

“Why?” Tamara smirked. “Do you like this ugly color?”

“Yes, I love that color, it’s my favorite!”

“Eww you’re gross Katie, this is a boy color and you’re a girl.”

“Well, why do you want it then Tamara you are a girl?”

“Well, I have beautiful blue eyes my mom says that they are the most beautiful eyes in our entire family. That’s why I can have the blue crayon. You can’t because you’re eyes are ugly brown. That’s just how this works. Ugly people, especially those without blue eyes can’t color with pretty blue crayons!”

That day, Briana’s mom picked us up from school. Sometimes my mom had to work late, which I didn’t mind because that meant I got to go play at Briana’s house. Briana could tell I wasn’t myself, but waited to ask what was wrong until we got in our secret club house. I’m not sure why we thought it was a secret club house, especially the fact that it didn’t have a roof. We would rearrange the furniture in her living room so that it surrounded us on all sides.

“What’s wrong Katie, you seem sad?” Briana asked.

“It’s just not fair, why can’t I have your blue eyes instead of my ugly brown one?” I said. “Everyone has blue eyes in my family; everyone except me.”

When I started crying, Briana tried to think of ways to make my eyes blue. She came up with the idea to put blue playdoh over my eyes, but it kept falling off when I started to walk around. It was hopeless I was always going to be different.

The next day at school it didn’t fail, I once again got the cornflower pink crayon. When I saw Tamara Bailey switch her redbrick red with someone in order to get the cerulean blue before I could, I broke down.

“I can’t take this anymore!”
 I ran outside the room and started to cry.

“Katie, what in heavens name happened?” Mrs. Loftman asked giving me a big hug.

“I don’t want the cornflower pink crayon anymore; I always get the cornflower pink crayon!” I sobbed.

“But you color so well with it, Katie. I had no idea. Is there specific color you liked?”

“Yes, cerulean, but I’m not a boy! I know I have ugly brown eyes but I just really like the color blue.”

“Well blue happens to be one of my favorite colors too, and I’m not a boy am I?”
I looked up at her while wiping my tears.

“No.”

“Katie it doesn’t matter what color eyes you have. You are allowed to love any color you want.” She said. “What makes you so passionate about blue?”
“Everyone has blue eyes in my family except me.” I cried. “I just want to have something blue too.”

“I think I know what this is about,” Mrs. Loftman said as she led me back into the class room.

“Attention class!” she said. “Guess what I learned that Katie and I have in common?”

“What?” they yelled.

“We both like the color blue,” she said. “It is okay for girls to like blue, just like it is okay for guys to like pink, or purple, or red.”
Everyone shook their heads in agreement.

“But more importantly Katie is going to teach us why having brown eyes makes her so special in her family, because she is the only one who has them.”
I never thought about it that way before.

Briana suddenly shot her hand up and asked before she was called on, “Is it because she is adopted Mrs. Loftman?”

“Does that mean she was dropped off by the stork?” Tamara Bailey asked.

“Of course not Tamara,” Mrs. Loftman said. “Go ahead Katie; explain to the class what being adopted means.”

It was weird trying to explain to my kindergarten friends what being adopted meant. I don’t distinctly remember when my mom told me, but I always knew. I explained adoption to the class the way my Grandmother explained to me.

“ Being adopted meant my real mommy had me too young, and prayed for angels to give me to a family who would take good care of me and love me forever, and that God chose, out of all the families who wanted to have a little girl, my family to take me home from the hospital,” I explained.

It made me feel special to get to explain my background in front of the entire class. Everyone asked me questions, and I even got two gold stars on my chart for sharing my story. Although he didn’t have the blue crayon, Cody Lawson offered to share his crayons with me during arts and crafts. I started to feel a little bit prouder of my brown eyes. That was until Tamara Bailey started teasing me at recess.

“I can’t believe I had to color with that ugly cerulean crayon today.” She snorted. “It is the ugliest color in the world!”

“Whatever Tamara, you’re just jealous that Katie got to speak in front of class to day, so leave her alone,” Briana warned.

“Whatever Briana, I thought the whole thing was weird. I’m would never want to be adopted!”

Briana couldn’t handle Tamara anymore and grabbed onto her hair ripping out her pink ribbons.

“Stop Briana its okay,” I said pulling her off Tamara.

“Tamara you are the meanest person I have ever met, Briana said pushing Tamara one more time.

“It’s okay Briana,” I said, “at least my parents picked me; Tamara’s parents had to keep her.”


 

 

Copyright © 2006 Katie Fuller
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"