Sigh. I’m so worried about Daddy. His daymares are getting worse. Sometimes, he holds me so tight that I can’t breathe.
Love,
Magdalena Michaelson
(Second Grade, 7 years old)
4. Friday the 13th
MAGDALENA
TEN YEARS OLD
I’d told my parents I wanted to ride home with my friends. It was only a few spare minutes with him, but every minute together seemed essential. So, every afternoon, Killian and I would wait for his driver to pick us up, even though my house was not on the way to his. “I meant what I said two years ago,” he said, staring at me, but I pretended not to notice the weight of his steady gaze.Killian would never let it go, and the worse part was that it made me blush every time he brought it up.
“What did you say three years ago?” Of course, I already knew the answer to that question, but I liked pretending otherwise to get back at him for bringing it up. It had become a game or a joke between us, the way we’d tease each other.The Hummer stopped in front of us. Killian was standing behind me to my right.
“Don’t pretend you don’t remember, angel. You’re still wearing my ring on your necklace,” he teased as my cheeks burned even more intensely. I looked up at him from the side with a smile on my face. “Would. You. Marry me?”He whispered it as if he was tired of asking me.
“Killian, stop asking me that. We’re only ten years old. You know, Mom says we need to live our lives first,” I griped while climbing into the Hummer.
“You’re my life.” He climbed in, the side of his body right up against mine as if the car couldn’t fit ten more people, our arms were skin to skin. It felt like a hug, a cuddle.
“How old do we have to be for you to say yes?” That was a new question in the playful bickering.
“Okay. How do you think we can do this?”
“Get married? Are you really asking this?” He didn’t hide the shock as he took a hold of my hand, squeezing it just a little. His eyes and mouth were wide open. I couldn’t help laughing.
“Yes. How can two kids as young as us get married?”
“My people marry young. But… to be honest, I’d have to ask your father’s permission.”
The smile on my face melted. “Oh, Daddy would never approve of such a thing, Killian, ever. In fact, he might just kill you for asking.”
“Well, then, we’ll do it without their permission.”
I gasped. “How? When?” The more I allowed the naughtiness of the idea sink in, the more excited I got.
“Don’t worry about any of that. You just keep coming to school as beautiful as today.”
The next day, at the beginning of class, Killian walked in with a stack of folded papers and passed one to each student. One by one, they gasped, especially the girls, then giggling erupted.
“Children, what is so funny? Let’s begin our lesson for the day,” the teacher demanded.
“What were you passing around?” I whispered to Killian.
“Did you find a dress?—”
“Magdalena, can you please face the front of the classroom where I’m teaching?” our teacher, Madame Dubois, asked with a tone full of reprimand. Now that we were in the fifth grade, the new teacher felt it necessary to be stricter with us. Again, everyone laughed. I scanned the room, and a set of eyes made me freeze—Mael. His anger was wrinkling his forehead into a “V,” his lips had a grimace of disgust, and his eyes glared at me then broke the eye contact to pay attention to Madame Dubois.
He looked like a demon. It made me uncomfortable. The weekend before, when I slept over at Bessie’s house, Mael had unexpectedly shown up for a visit and told me I was pretty. In the spirit of politeness, I responded with a thank you. I’d hoped that my acceptance of the compliment hadn’t made him misinterpret anything. I had just been trying to be nice.
Later that same day, as I walked toward our bench, Bessie grabbed my arm. “So, you and Killian are getting married?”
I shrugged. “Yes.”
“On a Friday the thirteenth?”I had not realized he’d set a date, certainly not that day. That was going to be within four weeks.
