Brittany stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, her hands smoothing down her long blonde hair. Today was her first day of third grade and she was terrified.
She loved to watch the other kids run to the school bus and play outside on their bikes. But up until a month ago when her home school tutor Ms. Kraine suggested she try public school to become more socialized, her mother had always insisted she stay inside. It wasn't all bad, Brittany thought. Her dad had helped her build a pretty awesome clubhouse in her room with old cardboard boxes he swiped from work. She drew pretend windows on the sides with crayon and sometimes her dad would pop his head in at night and read her Peter Cottontail. It was her favorite, even when it wasn't Easter. But as cool as her clubhouse was, and as much as she loved helping her mom bake cookies, Brittany yearned for the outside world. Most of all, Brittany wanted a real friend.
See, Brittany Pierce wasn't quite like the other kids in Lima, Ohio…or kids anywhere for that matter. She had been born seven weeks early and was diagnosed with a very rare development disorder the doctors called Severe Werner Syndrome. Brittany didn't know what it meant, she just knew that the other seven year olds on her block weren't as tall as their mommies yet. And somehow, not only was Brittany taller than her mommy, but also wore bigger shoes and got the same dark circles under her eyes when she was tired.
When Brittany would ask her mom why she looked so different, her mom would cry. Her heart broke for her daughter, her little girl whose life span may only last until shortly after she makes it through high school. Of course she doesn't tell Brittany this, but she dreads it every day. By the time Brittany's brain is eighteen years old, her body will be sixty, and from there, the doctors have told her, things will really start to go downhill. The few people they've seen with this condition, they tell her, have not lived past 30 years old.
"Ready to go, sweetie?" Karen Pierce knocks on her daughter's bedroom door. She's standing in front of her dresser, checking her reflection carefully. She's dressed in a pair of jeans that her mom sewed butterfly patches on, since they don't make butterfly clothes in grown up sizes like Brittany has to wear, and a purple polo shirt.
"Mommy what if the other kids don't like me?" she whimpered.
"They will, just show them how nice and fun you are. You always say you want to play with the other kids, don't you?" she replied, fidgeting with the rainbow barrettes in her daughter's hair.
"Yeah,"
"So just play with them. You'll have fun, I promise. And if anybody is mean to you, just tell the teacher,"
Brittany felt better then. She hoped her teacher was a lot like Ms Kraine. Ms. Kraine knew everything; she knew shapes and numbers and how to read her books in fun voices so Brittany didn't get sleepy.
"Go on to the car, baby I'll be right there," Mrs. Pierce told her. She grinned as she watched her daughter grab her pink butterfly backpack and run toward the front door.
"Please God, look out for her today," she said under her breath, a tear rolling down her cheek.