14… There were no other words to describe her besides odd and tough. Slender hips jutted out as she walked proudly; she took no notice of funny looks from onlookers. A splatter of blue, purple, green, and essentially the rainbow sat on the top of her head. Messy locks framed her face perfectly, complementing her lip and nose piercings. Black eyeliner and crazy eye shadow covered her eyes completely. Along with always wearing black and silver chains everywhere, she refused to ever wear anything that constricted her breasts. Her motto in life was, “Be who you want to be and fuck everyone else.” With a fiery attitude and rebellious strut, no adult ever wanted to oppose her. Meeting her was like encountering a new species -- nothing like anyone else I had met before. My admiration for her was clearly evident within our daily interactions. Everyone admired her, but no one wanted to be her.
15… One year later, the rainbow hair was replaced by an electric blue. A little less outwardly wild, but the same fiery attitude held in her eyes. There was one afternoon where I felt a slight burn of dissatisfaction as she chose not to quarrel with someone who didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. This feeling quickly passed because she still bragged about the men she had seduced before, still bragged about how little it hurt to get nipple piercings. But out of all the things she bragged about, she was the most proud to talk about how wonderful and caring her violin teacher was. She was cocky but lovely.
16… There she sat, another year later by the edge of the deep water, now with half a head of purplish pink, and the other side buzzed off. The light of the moon reflected off the shimmering water onto her smooth pale face. Something made the green rings around her blue irises stand out. She was still wild, but now it was a lot less visible. The small white circular tube sat comfortably between her thin fingers. She raised it to her lips, inhaled deeply, and slowly let rings of smoke fly out of her mouth. She didn’t brag about how much tar she could take into her lungs, nor did she brag about how beautiful she became.
17… Then came the last year before she would leave to go on her own adventure (don’t leave me just yet...) with the same proud grin. Her hair was now short, somewhat spiky, and back to blonde, her original hair color. She was naked and raw. Nothing about her screamed superficial. Like dandelion seeds floating in the wind, she glided along the air, easily making her way through everyone’s life. She blended in more, but there was still an air about her that somehow made her stand out.
18… On her last day of our music program, through ashy breath and smiling eyes, she said, “It’s been great. Now it’s time to travel Europe and get my college degree later. I’ll be working on farms and exploring shit. Isn’t that amazing sounding? Yeah, I’m going to camp in the woods and get paid by random people to do odd jobs. And maybe I’ll get into a bar fight in Ireland, or I’ll ride sheep on a mountain. Now tell me, who wouldn’t want to be me? Just look at all this. Look at this body.” The cockiness never left, it was just more carefully hidden among these years.