Every afternoon, at 3 pm, she would finally escape the taunting children. Even at eight, she felt the weight of their vicious taunts and unwelcome scorn. As the new girl, she was an easy target and they fed her generous doses of their childish mockery. She ignored them and never cried, pretending instead, that they were invisible. She simply walked by them without a glance, refusing to buy into their stupid games.
Her old school had been different. There, she had been included, a part of the group, the kids. She had best friends there and the worst games they'd played with each other was a competition for who could gain the best grade at the end of the school term. And, there, she couldn't remember any of the kids being so vicious or taunting.
"Nicki," she yelled across the parking spaces, after parent's day was over and she walked toward her mom's car, "what did your report card say?". Then, after hearing her best friend tell her how she had, as usual, obtained straight A's, she'd grin back, "Me, too!". They would both smile and sometimes give a yell of delight. There were no malicious games between her friends at the old school. No taunts she could recall. No disrespect or disregard for each other. Things were as they were meant to be. That was her old school, though.
This new school wasn't only bigger in proportions when playing comparisons with her old school. This school was bloated to near bursting with kids who were swelled with self-importance and found pleasure in another's pain. These kids were experts, professionals devoted to shooting darts of discouragement and ruthlessness. Would it always be this way?
She walked the short mile home from school alone, her arms loaded with books and her mind commanding courage. She was determined not to cry when some other kid tripped her or taunted her before she escaped the school grounds. And, she didn't cry. She cried inside, but never gave them her tears. Instead, as her mama had instructed her, she turned the other cheek. She ignored their words and their laughter, refusing to acknowledge them as she strolled past them. Wise beyond her years, even then, she thought these kids were the worst sort of morons, gaining their strength from another's weakness.
Once she was away from the strange lot who called themselves kids, and made the trek home, she would be welcomed by her best friend and companion. Duchess, always delighted to see her, would bounce and pounce, licking her arms and face, wagging her tail viciously, impatient for the hugs she knew were coming. Duchess, she named the beautiful black dog, a name reserved for royalty. And, in one child's eyes, she was just that.
Like a guardian angel, Duchess had drifted into her life and she deserved a special name. It was evident that this magnificent ball of ebony fur was a special lady, a Duchess awaiting her crown. She reflected every childlike dream with her endless supply of playful energy, affection, charm, humor and devotion. Duchess was a angel, a best friend, a playmate and so much more. She was loved beyond words, and beyond any explanation she could give the busy adults in her life, who disregarded her affectionate black playmate as merely a dog' instead of a true "Duchess", deserving of a crown. Or, at least those biscuits she so often smuggled from the kitchen for her.
Each afternoon, rain or shine, Duchess met her with the same overwhelming love and boundless joy that only she seemed capable of knowing. The routine became a familiar one and she couldn't have imagined a time might come when Duchess wouldn't be there to meet her after she'd finally escaped the prison like walls of the new school she was attending.
That time did come, though.
When she came home from school one day, pausing, hesitating, a frown forming across her face... where was Duchess? Where was that big black ball of fur that came pounding toward her every day? The girl went into the house, threw her books on the couch and ran back outside. She searched around the lawn, in the bushes where Duchess sometimes shaded herself from the afternoon sun, then cast her gaze across the neighborhood. A worried expression shadowed her young face as she walked and walked, seeking out her heart's ebony delight. Finally, she realized that Duchess was gone.
For months thereafter, the little girl walked home from school, her mind filling up with hope. Duchess could have decided to return home today. She might be there when she arrived, ready to prance around in her majestic stance, then pounce on her, delighting her with a furry hug. Sometimes, she'd hide herself away from the prying eyes of adults and pray for God to bring Duchess back home. Even her prayers, though, this time... went unanswered.
The ebony delight never returned home.