SWEET RIVALS, HATE YOU, LOVE YOU
CHAPTER 1
SANDBOXING
Young Lexi had been pushed her entire life to portray herself more “ladylike.” Ironically many degrading comments often came from other women.
“Sit straighter.”
“Cross your legs.”
“Don’t cuss.”
“Let the men play sport.”
“Ladies, don’t get so angry.”
But Lexi was pissed. Her figure had been petite since the day she was born, but she was as tough as any man, and most of them wouldn’t dare cross her. Those who did quickly realized their mistake. Her tight, blonde curls communicated pretty, but her face often cautioned, don’t test me.
It was never a case of the girl being unhappy. Lexi had grown happy and strong, with love and support surrounding her growth and childhood. She simply had her daddy’s fuse and her mother’s fight. She knew how to stand her own, to not be walked over, yet her heart was as puffy, red and swollen -with love- as her face flushed whenever somebody insulted her.
There wasn’t much to be done for an anger tic like Lexi’s. When you’re a child, outbursts over snacks and toys are hilarious, often filmed for later entertainment. When you’re a teenager, the outbursts are deemed normal, expected; nice, young girls will likely outgrow mood swings, right? When you’re an adult, you’re reprimanded for behaving the way you always have. Your need to succeed can drown or suffocate you. It can ruin you.
But as a child with ringlet pigtails and pretty pink dresses, a little hissy fit warranted for clucking and comments like “She’s such a little diva. Bless her.”
When she was two, Lexi bit another child and was sentenced to time-out for thirty whole minutes. All that time in prison did for her was let her stew in the anger. That other kid had started it, and Lexi had just finished it! Yet, she had to sit and watch stupid Milly run about outside the window, while she was stuck on a little red chair inside. Not only was Milly on the hit-list for all time, Miss Carla’s name had been added.
It was known among the kindergarten class that Lexi wouldn’t tolerate pigtail pulling, bullies, or sandpit betrayal. If someone stole her toy. In cases like this, doll heads would fly.
Questions were rarely asked when a Barbie had been decapitated. Lexi simply did as she did -it was always deserved- and her friends reaped the rewards. They had access to all the good toys once somebody mistreated another kid with Lexi as a witness.
The new boy -a latecomer to the class- Noah, was a goofy, gangly child. Something about him had annoyed Lexi from the day he’d waddled into class. Not only that, but he flat-out refused to conform to these playground rules that had been established for weeks, even after he’d been warned by Simon Spittle, who rued the day he was mean to Lexi’s friend Emma.
This was the day Noah Snipe marked himself -and his soul- forever. Lexi’s hit-list was growing and he was on its top.
When confronted, this boy wouldn’t cower, despite his stick-figure-level build and paper-thin strength. He exuded this knowing look about him, even at four, that implied “I know this game, and I’m ready to play!”
“Give it back,” Lexi growled, snatching at the truck the silly boy had taken.
“Or what?” Noah spat, poking out his tongue. “You gonna tell on me?”
“No!” Lexi didn’t need some grumpy adult fighting her battles for her. “I’ll fight you for it myself, you… you… butthead…”
“Butthead? Well… you’re a… poopy butt!”
Hair was pulled, faces buried in sand, and handfuls of it shoved down throats. As far as toddler boxing matches in the sandpit are concerned, this was a beauty.
Yet, Noah strode away -with the intervention of Miss Carla’s high pitched cartoonish teacher voice- with Lexi’s toy in hand, leaving her to pout in the half-empty sandpit, which became a mini dessert with the heat of her rage. If this were a cartoon, she would’ve had squiggly lines of rage radiating from her, and those doe eyes of hers would have been bright red.
Lexi didn’t have these tantrums forever. She was always going to struggle a little with the spurts of irritation and impatience; she was stuck with impulsivity, but with guidance and trial and error, she slowly worked toward a temperament that was more forgiving and calm. That didn’t mean wrong-doers were necessarily safe in her absence. It just signified she wasn’t going to strangle somebody for littering… maybe just tell him or her off a bit. This relatively calm place Lexi had found didn’t welcome Noah Snipe into its happy bubble. He brought the sparks right back from their hiding space, no matter the situation, day, time, or words spewing from his mouth.
In the early years of elementary school, he and Lexi battled over many things; all the important topics like who had the better packed lunch, who could recite their timetables the fastest, who could sprint the running track quickest, who could win a game of dodgeball, who could jump highest, and who could do a cartwheel and not knee themselves in the face. Neither of them won that battle.
Some days were tests to see who could simply ruffle the other the deepest, and push one’s buttons the hardest.
The main blowout during the later years of elementary school involved a battle to the death regarding who would give the sixth grade graduation speech. They wrote draft after draft, read poem after poem, until the poor teacher had a meltdown, trying to choose between them and gave the speech to Samual Smith instead. There was a week there where Lexi and Noah had formed an unlikely alliance to take Milton down collaboration. They eventually succeeded. Still, their diabolical skills as teammates weren’t enough for either to wave one’s white flag.