“PALE GIRL!”
“Sophie, would you like to visit the nurse? Are you feeling okay?”
It started in kindergarten. She hadn’t gone to preschool, she’d been looked after by Tatik and Granny Ijemma on alternating days, her mother and father whenever possible. They all doted on their baby girl, the only child, only grandchild in their newly adopted country. Adopted child. Adopted culture.
She stood out in the family photos, swan white between her mother’s long, dark locks and deep olive skin, protectively nestled under her father’s broad shoulders and broader grin, a rich coffee color. She felt different but special. Part of a neutral-tone rainbow, something unusual but worth smiling over.
Then the first recess came and the rainbow turned into a tornado.
“What’s wrong with your skin?”
“Why are you so white?”
“Are you an albino?” An older kid wearing one of the School Safety reflective belts cornered her as she boarded the bus in the afternoon, squinting at her curiously.
“I’m Armenian-Nigerian-American,” she whispered, eyes wide, rushing for the safety of the tall, green seats.
If only the bus ride had carried into an alternate dimension, but it did not.
“Hello, Beautiful! Hi, Princess!” Her mother and father were both there at the bus stop, having taken time off from work.
Her father swung her up and around, cradling her close. “Tell us all about it, Princess?”
“Did my little Snow White make any new friends?” Her mother held her pink backpack with one hand while tickling her shoulder with the other.
“No! Don’t call me that!” Sophie exploded, scrambling down, sobbing. The nickname had been one she chose after watching the old Disney movie, finally seeing a character in a movie that she resembled. Her parents played along and let her dress up as the classic princess for Halloween three years in a row.
“Baby! What happened?” Her mother followed after her, anger and worry in her eyes.
“What’s an albino?” Sophie asked.
The next thing she knew, her father’s lion-like voice was roaring on the phone.
The next day, no one in her class said anything about how pale she was. No one said much of anything to her.
The bus was hell.
Every new grade was hell.
Middle school was... It didn’t help that lots of the kids had already been with her for the previous five years. Middle school gave tongues new wings, new lies.
Her mom was a ghost.
She got bitten by a vampire.
Sophie’s a burn victim. The only way they could save her skin was to remove all the pigment.
She was in an accident, with acid, like the Joker.
“Sophie? Are you feeling faint? Would you like to visit the school nurse, dear?”
HER BOW SKIDDED TOa juddering halt, a sour roll across the strings. She stopped, blinking back tears. Then, like always, she turned the page and played on.
PHILADELPHIA HAD TOOmany people. Philadelphia had millions of places to hide, but she felt like all eyes were always on her. The psychiatrist her parents forced her to see during high school said that was all in her head— but she noticed that the same psychiatrist, like every doctor ever, ordered a battery of blood tests to pinpoint the root of her “condition.”
Like all the rest, the tests showed nothing. She wasn’t anemic or riddled with parasites. Her heart, lungs, liver, and everything else proved normal.
She was just abnormally pale.
