It was Sally's sixth birthday and she had chosen, of all places, to go to the park. Her parents had asked her if she was sure. According to them she went to the park all of the time.
"Wouldn't you rather the zoo? Think about all of the silly animals you could see," her father argued.
"Don't you think the bowling alley would be more fun?" Her mother asked Sally. But no matter what her parents said, Sally shook her head.
"No, I shall go to the park. I am the birthday girl!" She insisted. Eventually they gave in.
"If that is what you really want…" And it was. Sally went to her room and dressed in her pink party dress that she had begged her parents to buy her the week before. She twirled in front of the full length mirror on the back of her door and just for good measure, made at least seven funny faces at herself before skipping downstairs.
It took a good twenty minutes in the Donovan's squashed little car before they reached the park, but Sally didn't mind. The six year old loved the park. She had taken to exploring it a couple months ago when she and her friend, Lucy, had finally convinced their parents that they were of an age in which they could go off by themselves. It was a great moment in Sally's short life.
It was a clear day, the sun shining, but a welcoming breeze constantly graced the faces of visitors. Sally stood on a small rock, feet from the entrance of the park. She was investigating. She inspected each child that she could see, looking for the right companion with whom she would spend her day. There was a group of girls, maybe a year older than she, playing an intense game of double dutch. No, they weren't right. A variety of boys seemed to have started a game of football halfway across the grassy field, but Sally wasn't in the mood to kick a ball around. She wanted something more exciting. Finally, after much scrutiny, Sally found what she was looking for. A lone boy, playing in the corner of the sandbox. His eye patch, stripped shirt, and toy ship made Sally certain that that boy was a pirate. She curiously walked up to him. He didn't seem to notice.
"Are you a pirate?" The boy coldly looked up.
"No," he went back to navigating his toy ship through the seas of sand. Sally refused to give up.
"Can I play with you?" She asked, then adding proudly: "It's my birthday." The boy didn't even bother to look up. Sally was getting rather irritated. "My name is Sally Donovan."
"My name is Sherlock." The dark haired boy mumbled, still not looking at her. He seemed to be trying quite hard to block her out. Sally couldn't have that happen.
"Well then Sherlock," her voice had that edge that children's get when they are about to throw a tantrum. "Let me play with you!"
Finally Sherlock looked up, he gave her a once over. A small, malicious smile formed on his lips. "I don't play with bed wetters," he purred, before going back to his ship.
"I do not wet the bed!" Sally's eyes were wide. "How dare you say that!"
"But it's the truth." Sherlock seemed to have abandoned his game and stood up to face Sally. "You, Sally, still wet your bed." Sally's lip trembled.
"That isn't true, you are just being a meany pants," she denied it, however her real thoughts were written all over her face: How does he know?
"Don't believe me, Sally the bed wetter?" Sherlock teased. Standing up he was an inch or two taller than she was. "Well I know that the last time that you wet the bed was two days ago because you had a nightmare. I also know that your favorite color is pink, it is your sixth birthday, you have a cat and a goldfish, your last snack was crisps and that your parents don't love each other anymore. You are a stupid little girl and I don't want to play with you!"
Sally stood there shocked and embarrassed. She could feel the tears in her eyes. Her ears burned, the words of the boy still fresh in them. "You," the girl's voice was thick. "FREAK!" She screamed, picking up a fist full of sand and throwing it at him, before running away back towards her parents.