The Demon Inheritance

TWENTY-THREE

Back then, I was not really a part of society yet. I was nearly ready to go through all the things that normally destroy you. After all, most children don't begin suffering until after they have been exposed to those horrible things in the world. At a point in time, the law requires us to step out into society, our colors blazing blindly. Then, society takes your color and bleaches it. They take your sugar and give you salt. They turn that hot red love into a bleak grey mess, and all your pretty violet thoughts into wrinkled silver. I carried myself in such a way that first morning that only a happy person could carry themselves in. Back straight, smile wide, black eyes opened enough to take in the world... I slung my Dora the Explorer backpack across my back and sat excitedly. Undestroyed and untarnished, the innocent little fruit that was me would soon blemish and spoil under the conditions.

That first day of school, my mother kissed me goodbye, and when she started to tear up, I assured her that I would be okay. I assured her I would enjoy my first day, a thing I should never have promised. Anything can shift into a lie with the right conditions.

Mommy only nodded as I went out to meet the bus. I was given the impression by all those television shows that the world was friendly, so starting Pre-K was no big deal to me in any negative way. My mind was centered around potential blossoming friendships, because surely, nothing bad could happen.

It all began when I sat down.

The first wad of spit-infested paper hit against my head, aiming for the bare skin in between my eyes. Whoever had done it had been unashamed, and didn't bother trying to hide their assault. I flicked the paper from my skin, and a boy a little bit older than me sat beside me immediately.

"I haven't seen you before!" said the boy. "What's your name?"

I was already making friends! I answered, "My name is Emma Whitestone."

"Whitestone! Your mom is the one who has been sleeping around, right?" The boy grinned, as if suggesting a joke he knew I wouldn't get.

I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. "Everybody sleeps."

The boy scoffed. "How old are you?"

I beamed. "Five."

He shook his head. "How innocent are you? Yuck. You are gonna sleep around just as much as your mom, probably."

"No, I work hard! I don't sleep a lot... Neither does my mom." I frowned. Why would someone insist that the Whitestones were a lazy group? We had a reputation, and I had never seen this guy before. We all helped around with everything, be it charity or even a stranger's birthday where we stop by and leave gifts and go again. The Whitestone bloodline was made of golden early birds!

He curled his lip in the ghost of amusement. "You can start early and go get a boyfriend. You're in Pre-K, right? I am in Second Grade. You can date me."

I gave him a quizzical look. "I don't even know you! Daddy says that people can break your heart if you let them in without trusting they won't hurt you. Also, you called the Whitestone family lazy! That's not cool."

The boy shrugged, and then tossed his head to the side in an attempt to remove the dark bangs from his squinty eyes. "Listen here, Emma. All girls gets boyfriends. Girls like you are useless without boyfriends."

"Boys like you are useless without brains." My comeback was completely ignored by him.

He merely shrugged his square, lean shoulders. "The world doesn't want you if you don't have children. My dad hits my mom because she can't have kids anymore. He says she is a useless woman. You should learn your place."

Instead of getting angry, I hugged my backpack to my chest. "It's so sad that adults lie to you like that."

"Since when do women do anything good?" he continued. "History was made by men. We even refer to our race as mankind. Girls were made just to make more boys."

I pouted. I felt really sorry for him, actually believing that those lies were true. Maybe with a few more school years, he would learn that he was wrong. He would learn that girls were the same as boys. Neither gender is higher than the other. Maybe someone could change this boy's heart... And maybe his father would open his eyes, too. "That isn't true."

"Girls are toys. They're pretty."

"What about lesbians?" I asked. "They can't make boys."

He wrinkled his nose. "Ew. You're gross. Lesbians aren't real! Those are just women who want attention by pretending to be something else. Daddy says so!"

I gripped my pale purple backpack even closer to my chest. "Well, my Daddy says they can't help it. It isn't a choice, and they don't like boys. We go to a church that helps out lesbians and stuff."

"Girls aren't aloud to talk in church," the boy said, mildly irritated. "You're gonna get a boyfriend. Every girl has had at least five by the end of the year. Some of them even still have five!" He adjusted his backpack in between his legs, and rested his elbows up on top of the seat in front of him. "If you were a boy, I would tell you to get smart, but you're a girl, so I don't care."

I made him get out of my seat. Soon, he was only replaced by a little girl.

She was my age and had a Disney Princess backpack. Her hair was inky black, and it curled thick like a slinky. It was cut really short, brushing just above her porcelain neck. She was wearing white and grey diagonal stripes, shorts that ended above her knee, and black flip-flops. Her green eyes were wide with kindness. "Hey, you're Emma Whitestone! My Granny passed away. You came to her funeral, remember?"

I nodded slowly. "I think so. Yeah, I am Emma..." I sank down in my seat. "Hi..." Truly, I had no desire to speak to anyone else. School was already becoming a place affiliated with bad vibes, and we hadn't even arrived yet.

"My name is Mary Clarkson! Nice to meet you!" She shook my hand happily.

If there was one thing I learned in that year that I hadn't learned already from my mother and father, it was that things were expected of me. As a girl, I was expected to stay a girl, to love all the cute boys my eyes can label candy, and grow up to be something 'sexy'. As a young person, people expected me to never have my own ideas and for every judgment I made to be a bad one. As a human being, I was expected to fall into line with everyone's plans.

By my own standards, I was expected to do just the opposite. And Mary was the only one who agreed with me on that. That's why she was the only one I accepted. That's why everyone else, I instantly assumed, was a prick.