I was born to a normal middle class family, the eldest of three. We lived in a small white house with a bright red door, on the top of a hill, in a town where no one’s face was unfamiliar and where no secrets were kept, no matter how hard you tried. The trees on the hill were trimmed just enough for you to see the kitchen window, with its garish yellow curtains and the chipping paint outlining it.
I loved that window.
I would lean a chair against the counter and stand on it, barely tall enough to see outside. From that window, I would watch the horizon, and the birds, until their wings became invisible in the distance and all you could see were tiny dots against the pale blue sky.
By the time my first sister was born, I was old enough to go out alone. After school, I’d wrap myself up in thick woolen scarves and put on big rubber boots, and walk down the hill, with the wind at my back. I wasn’t like the other kids, who begged their parents to take them to the tiny candy shop where they made salty taffy and sticky ribbon candy. I was barely eight years old and already knew I was different. I’d walk past the trolley-tracks that ran down main street, and step onto the boardwalk. Its planks and handrails made of old wet wood were rough and moist, and the breeze carried the scent of sea salt and fish, and the caramel corn that grandmas threw to the seagulls. I’d sit on the metal benches and watch the clouds for hours, letting the sunset pour over me and the darkening sky envelope me in shadow. By the time the stars came out, my parents would step out onto the porch, and watch me climb back up the hill.
When my baby brother was born five years later, I’d outgrown three big rubber boots and instead of flowery wallpaper, sketches covered the walls of my bedroom. Black and white main street shops and drawing of little girls strolling with lollipops in their mouths filled notebooks that lay in piles on the floor. Throughout the years of sharing my parents with my rambunctious little sister, I’d learned to communicate with a pencil and paper better than with my words. But in this town where secrets never stay secret for long, I kept prying eyes away from my art by becoming the quiet person who blends into the background. I was sixteen when I finally broke out of the walls I built up around me. I remember that day, almost as if I just lived that moment. It all began with:
“So that’s where you were! I’ve been looking all over for you, you stood me up!”

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“So that’s where you were! I’ve been looking all over for you, you stood me up!”
“Cody, calm down, I just wanted to take a walk before school started, no biggie,” I said to the tall blonde boy in the red hoody.
“You mean you just wanted to go to the boardwalk. It’s as if you like you can’t survive a day without coming here! Well, since I’m your best friend, I guess I’ll forgive you.” He winked a goodnatured eye at me and started walking beside me. “Hey did you watch American Idol last night? Weren’t you surprised when…”
I met Cody nine years ago when he moved into the house at the bottom of the hill with his mom. He wasn’t the same as all the other kids in town. He was bright and cheerful, and smelled of sunshine. He was quiet at first, but through the years he became rowdy and rambunctious. He was the only one who didn't think of me as weird, and the one of the only ones who knew about my drawings. If I had to be alone for the rest of my life, he would be the one I would miss the most.
“I can’t believe she was disqualified for that! I mean come on, you should have seen last season when…”
I smiled, my grin hidden by my thick curly hair. If Cody was my first love, his would be music. While I expressed what I couldn’t say with my drawings, he did it through his guitar. I guess, we were just meant to be.
“So how’s your mom?” Cody interrupted my thoughts, and immediately my grin disappeared.
“Fine,” I responded quickly.
“Come on Mel, I know you better than that. What happened this time?” He says quietly, gently grabbing my hand and pulling me to a stop, “We’re not moving until you tell me what’s wrong.”
I sighed, I knew from experience that he wasn’t kidding.
“It’s nothing really, we just argued.”
“About what?”
“Well, she wants me to go to Heather’s house for some party. I told her I didn’t want to go, and she yelled at me. That’s it.” I tried to keep walking but he stopped me.
“No it’s not. What aren’t you telling me?” He held my gaze for a minute as if searching my eyes for the answer then said jokingly, “You may be a girl, but that won’t stop me from beating it out of you!”
I laughed a little, but on the inside, I wasn’t laughing.
“I told her about the emails,” I whispered.
His eyes darkened like the storm clouds that come in from the coast.
“And what did she say?”
I looked away.
“She didn’t believe me.”
He squeezed my hand, hard. “Oh.”
“But, it’s not like it bothered me or anything I mean its nothing new and--”
“Mel,” his one word silenced me instantly, “You aren’t fat, you are beautiful. Never let Heather or her friends make you think that you aren’t. She’s just jealous because you have talent, and all she has is a big mouth and closet full of short skirts.”
“I know. You tell me that everytime.”
“That’s because I’m right and you know it. C’mon, keep your chin up,” He said tilting my face up to meet his eyes. He gave me a lopsided grin, “Race ya to the school gate!” He took off running, his long legs carrying him faster than the wind, his laugh floating back toward me.
Cody was always in front of me, one step ahead, just out of grasp; somewhere where it smelled like sunshine.
*
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When you live in a small town, you get used to seeing the same faces. And in Heather’s case, her face was seen more than most. Heather lived in the big house by city hall, and her uncle was the mayor. She had pretty green eyes, and silky red hair, and everyone called her ‘the princess’. But once upon a time, Cody, Heather, and I were best friends.
Young us would watch scary movies together, and walk down to the wharf and buy popcorn to eat or throw at the seagulls. Neither seemed to mind how different I looked compared to them; Heather with the long limbs of a dancer, Cody with his easy smile and sparkling eyes and me with my a chunky body and frizzy hair. We would listen to Cody practice guitar, and I would draw pictures of Heather and she would smile and pose for me. But somewhere between her ballet classes and my long walks alone, we drifted apart. Though, it wasn’t until I was in middle school when it became apparent just how far we’d drifted.
It was little things at first: snickers as I walked past, stares from behind my back, tables filling up so I couldn’t sit next to Heather and her friends at lunch. In fact, at first, Heather would try to stand up for me, her pale pink lips pulled back to reveal pearly whites in a comforting smile. That’s when I heard them. Twelve year old me didn’t understand what was going on on the other side of the door. All I heard my best friend laughing with a group of girls:
“Let’s call her Melly-Belly!” they said.
“She’s as huge as a whale!” they said.
“Her face looks like someone splattered tomato sauce on it!” they said.
I stood on the other side of the door listening for what felt like hours. I stood there listening to my best friend laugh at me, mock me, over, and over, and over again.
I took off running, not looking at my surroundings, and bumped into one of the teachers. My pencils and books went flying; I picked them up and muttered an apology, and just kept running. The hallway felt suffocating all of a sudden and all I knew was that I had to get out, had to be anywhere but here.

Cody was the one who found me. I sat at the edge of the boardwalk, my feet dangling off the edge, looking down at the water. He sat down next to me, and when he saw what I was doing he remained silent. I was slowly ripping all the sketches of Heather out of my notebook and letting them fall down to the water below. They drifted on the breeze like the feathers of a dead bird before finally disappearing under the planks of the boardwalk. Before all the kids from started walking home from school, Cody helped me to my feet and took me home. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t try to pressure me. He gave me space and walked a couple steps ahead kicking at rocks as he went and humming a song by Journey.
“Don’t stop believing, hold on to that feeling. Hm, hm, doo dam doo da doo..”
I smiled. This was his way of cheering me up. No pressure, no questions, just Cody and his music.
That was when the tears I was holding back started to fall. He slowed down, but didn’t stop humming.
“Just a small town girl, livin’ in a lonely world. Hm, hm, doo da, don’t stop...”
That was the last time I spoke to Heather as friends. But that was not the last day of the bullying.

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Four years later I walk into my classroom. Cody beat me to the gate by at least three minutes, but stood there waiting for me to catch up. The classroom was abuzz with the usual whispering and giggles. I walked over to my seat, just as the bell rang and the teacher opened the door.
“Everyone, I have something to pass out. If the first person in every row could grab enough for their row and then distribute them, it would be much appreciated,” she said before sitting in her chair at the head of the class.
I grabbed a handful of the printouts and looked at them.
Small town talent! Enter for a chance to win an all-expenses trip to New York City! they read in big letters. I read over the words again. New York City: imagine all the art galleries, the studios, the exhibitions! What if--
A snicker interrupted my thoughts.
“Look at her,” laughed Karli, one of the wannabes in Heather’s circle, “she’s actually thinking about it!” Then turning to look at me she said in baby talk, “Does wittle Melly-Belly wanna go to New York?”
I crumpled up my copy of the handout and threw in the trash. I didn’t say a word. Wearily, I sat down in my chair and started doodling an image of Karli being dangled over a pool of sharks, angling my body so that they couldn’t see. Cody walked over and looking over my shoulder saw what I was doodling, barely able to stifle a laugh.
“I can’t tell who’s worse, Karli or that shark,” he whispered conspiratorially.
“I don’t know either, but I have a bad feeling that it won’t end well for that poor little sharkie,” I responded, trying to hide a smile.
“Hey, can I borrow your text book, I totally forgot to do my homework last night,” he asked with a sheepish smile.
“That’s what you get for watching American Idol instead of studying,” handing him the heavy volume with a grin.
“You can’t blame me though, I just am so weak,” he grinned back, pretending to almost drop it.
I laughed; Karli, Heather, and the talent contest suddenly were a million miles away. Cody always seemed to have a way to make me feel better.

It was mid January and the days were still dark and the shadows jumped out as soon as the clock struck four. The bell rang; it was time to go home. When I got back to my locker, I saw that Cody had dropped off the textbook, a neon orange post-it stuck to the cover with a smiley face on it. I noticed a corner of a paper sticking out of the book, and it didn’t seem like it belonged. I pulled it out and looked at quizzically: Small Town Talent: Entry Sheet. I nearly dropped it. Another sticky note, this time neon green, was stuck to it and in Cody’s writing it said: Good luck! I took three shaky breaths before tucking it back into the textbook.
I walked home slowly, not noticing the cars, or the light drizzle of rain that began to slowly soak into my hoodie.
Soon I found myself at my doorstep. I took a deep breath and walked inside. I stood over the kitchen sink and held up the blank entry paper up to my special window and looked out at our small riverside town. A shy smile crept onto my face. It was then and there I decided I would someday find my place. Maybe that place wouldn’t be in Heather’s circle, maybe it wouldn’t be at Cody’s side, but it would be mine. It would be a place to call my own. I would get there by my own strength, even if I couldn’t do it yet. I am strong. I am beautiful. And I will get there soon.
I grabbed well-used charcoal pencils and began drawing.