Page 6 of Tainted Love

Istruggle to stifle my giggles, and a smile spreads across my face as I watch Michael’s cheeks redden with frustration. “You said you were coordinated,” I remind him playfully.

“I am!” he retorts, determined to prove himself. “Let’s try it again.”

“Alright,” I say, raising my hands in the air and demonstrating the hand motions to the rhyme. Michael follows along, his movements slightly awkward.

“Down by the bank of the hanky panky, where the bullfrogs jump from bank to banky…” he recites, making it through without a mistake but with a loud and exaggerated “KERPLOP!” We both dissolve into laughter, our bodies sinking onto the soft grass.

“Told you I could do it,” he boasts, nudging me with his shoulder.

“It only took you two days,” I tease.

“I’m not a girl. I don’t do girly stuff,” Michael defends himself jokingly. “I bet you couldn’t beat me at boy stuff.”

A sly smile spreads across my face as I raise an eyebrow challengingly. “There’s no such thing as girl and boy stuff. I bet I can beat you at anything.”

“So now you’re a comedian,” he chuckles. “There’s no way.”

“Oh really? Try me.”

With a smirk, he suggests, “Let’s play Red Rover at recess.”

I snort. “That’s not about coordination. It’s a game of trying not to get clotheslined, which is not on my list of things to do.”

Michael lets out a laugh before throwing out another challenge. “Okay then, what about basketball?”

I consider it for a moment before responding confidently, “Fine. But if I win, you have to wear a dress for an entire day.” The thought of Michael decked out in a frilly dress makes me smile.

He doubles over with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You’re not going to beat me. I’m the Kareem Abdul-Jabbar of this school.”

Now, it’s my turn to laugh uncontrollably. “Bet you a Marathon Bar that I can beat you in a game of HORSE.”

“You’re on,” he says, throwing a pile of grass into my hair.

Michael won. And he wasn’t gracious about it—although I suppose I wouldn’t have been, either. He made up a little song about how he’s better than me and followed me around, singing it in my ear until I elbowed him in the stomach.

We like to compete, especially in sports, but it’s all in fun. We make each other better and challenge each other to try harder, and that’s always good. He’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Losing the bet didn’t go over well with Mom. She took me to the store and bought me the candy bar to give him the next day after lecturing me about the “pitfalls of making bets.” Still, she wouldn’t allow me to stiff him on our deal. “All you have in this life is your integrity, Sascha,” she likes to remind me.

I told her Michael didn’t beat me because I’m a girl, and she nodded because it’s the truth. He simply practices more than I do. He may have won HORSE, but he’s still no Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. I’ve already decided that I’m going to start practicing at recess and beat him the next time.

As we drive home from the grocery store in the quiet of the car, my mom turns to me and says, “Sascha, you know how sometimes we take in children who need help for a short time?”

I nod, understanding immediately. “The foster babies.” We’ve done it before, opening our home to children.

“Well,” she continues with a gentle smile, “there’s a child who could use our help right now. He’s about six months old and needs someone to look after him until his mother can sort some things out in her life.”

My heart swells at the thought of having a baby in the house. “That sounds good,” I tell her eagerly.

“However,” she warns, “he’s young, and he’s been through a lot. He’ll probably be a handful and may not sleep well at night.”

“That’s fine,” I say with a shrug. “I like the babies.”

“It’s kind of you to share your home with children who need it, Sascha. I’m proud of you.”

I beam under my mom’s words, but this isn’t new. My parents have taken in other kids for a long time.

When Mom and Dad were younger, they tried to have children but couldn’t. So, after many years, they decided to adopt a baby. That baby was me. It’s not a secret. They have been honest about it for as long as I can remember.