I'm the Small One

I'm the Small One

At eight years old, I'm smaller than everyone else my age. When I walk in the halls at school, I have to squeeze in between the bigger kids to get by. Sometimes they bump into me or step on my toes. “ Sorry, Sophie--I didn't see you, " they say. At the playground, little kids always want to play with me. Some even try to boss me around.

“ Don't climb up that big slide, little girl, " one kindergartner warned me last week. “ You might fall and hurt yourself. " " I think I'll be okay, " I said. She watched me slide down, her mouth gaping open.

My best friend, Casey, is one of the tallest kids in second grade. Her legs are so long that when she walks, I have to jog to keep up with her. Sometimes grown-ups ask her, “ Who's your little friend?" One day while I was over at Casey's house, her grandma thought Casey was babysitting me!

“ This is Sophie, " Casey explained, " my best friend. " " How sweet, " her grandma said. She leaned toward me and smiled brightly. “ What grade are you in, Sophie?" she asked. " Second grade, " I answered. She blinked in amazement, then glanced over at Casey. " Is that true?" she asked. That really rubbed me the wrong way.

I used to try to make myself taller whenever I could. My posture was perfect, straight as an arrow. I hung from the tree in our backyard to stretch out my limbs. I ate all my vegetables . . . even the brussels sprouts. Every day I measured myself to see if I'd grown any taller, but I was the same height every time. It was frustrating.