The second one

I know it is stupid. But I have never forgotten it.
They had it all. All that I would never have. They were pretty. Boys fell in love with them. They were the prettiest in my class. They used to wear beautiful clothes. Their hair was flawless. Their houses were beautiful. Their toys. Their parents were nice as well. They weren’t weird like mine.
I wished I was their friend. But I was shy. A dork. I admit it. I’m not ashamed of that. So I spent my time with the dorky girls in my class. As dorky as I was. I feel like laughing. One of them was as tiny as a little mouse. Her skin was white pale. Her moustaches were dark, as dark as her eyes and her black curls spread everywhere. Her mother was young and her father was old. She had two half-sisters. Because her father was a widow. And her half-sisters were evil. Her mother used to force her to clean the house. She couldn’t go out on Saturdays. Because she had to clean up. And her half-sisters didn’t do anything. Rumours said. We used to celebrate her birthdays in her garage. In order not to mess up. There was also another girl. She was fat. At that time there were few fat children at school. Her hair was very blond, as blond as gold. She was curly-haired like a cherub. And  her eyes were blue-grey like the winter sky. Her skin was as white as milk and her cheeks were always pink. She was ok. If only she hadn’t been a fatty. And her father lacked a phalanx. And she had the most evil grandma in the world. She was always angry, that lady. She always told us off. But we were not scared. We just laughed a lot.
Oh yes… the pretty ones… I have lost the thread… I had never been invited to their parties. I have never been to one of their birthday parties. The day they invited me to play at their house I felt on top of the world. I didn’t understand why I had been so very lucky… but I have always been stupid. I have always believed in miracles. It’s a question of faith. I was so excited as I got ready and went out. With my brand new bicycle.
A fantastic new bicycle that I had deserved. I was not very talkative but I think that it was my smile that spoke that afternoon. We went to the house of a girl who offered me a delicious snack that my mother would have never given to me. Then to the house of the other girl, who said we would take a ride in the countryside. And I really loved to ride my bike. To ride it with my friends. My new friends. They were so kind to me. So cheerful. Really. I couldn’t believe it. I still remember the road. The countryside. The colour of that afternoon sky. The smell of the air. I remember their smiles. Their hair. I remember the exact light of that afternoon. I remember the image of my legs that pushed the pedals. The pink frame of my bicycle…
And I remember the blue eyes of my friend the day after. The white tiles of the school bathroom. The big windows overlooking the garden. And her blue eyes saying that I had been invited to the countryside only because the street’s gravel would have damaged my beautiful new bicycle.
but gravel doesn’t damage bicycles…
they don’t want to be your friends. they only wanted to damage your bicycle
but gravel doesn’t damage bicycles…
They never invited me to their house again. And my bicycle was still the most beautiful of all. But I have often ridden alone. I don’t remember anything else. Only that on that day I decided that certain things didn’t exist. And I left outside every word of those blue-grey eyes that always gave their terrific revelations in the bathroom. When we were all by ourselves. By those long rectangular basins from which I used to drink. But I never washed my hands. Because I don’t like to wash my hands. No I don’t like them dirty. I am always careful not to get them dirty. So that I don’t need to wash them. No. I don’t loathe water nor soap. But I rather not wash my hands.