Every week Ramona would follow Damien to her local gang hangout, where all the other cats of the neighborhood would convene. She was a secret agent, a special guest allowed to witness their dealings. There was one rather fluffy cat, a ginger who she named Marshmello. There was another slim, black cat that always blended into the evening shadows. She found respite, crouching next to them as crickets stirred, in a world where she didn't necessarily need to explain herself.
The cat yakuza did not mind her presence, brushing their soft bodies against her as they strutted by as if to bestow approval. Damien always stuck extra close to her, objecting with sharp meows if she tried to leave too early and knocking her knees with his furry head. Marshmello's seat of residence was always at the top of the wall, the unspoken gang leader of this section of cats in the neighborhood.
At school, Ramona did not particularly stand out in any subject, nor did she have an affinity for any of the teachers. She was most fond of break times when she could move her body around: dodgeball, tetherball, handball, tag. She wanted to feel the wind in her hair and the pavement hot against her heel. Theirs was a uniformed school, so she always donned the same white-collared shirt with navy blue pants, never wearing skirts. She gathered her hair in the same low ponytail everyday, having no desire to let it down.
She got along well enough with her peers, not really causing trouble or the center of attention, except as the last one standing during dodgeball matches. It was the one time she could shine, her ability to evade the fastest throws until the end made her somewhat proud. A rush would go through her as the ball whizzed by, a fraction from the hair on her arms, grazing the hem of her khakis. Perhaps she liked the idea of being a target, yet never getting caught. Dancing between bodies, concealing her position: "Hit me with your best shot", kind of thing. She would often finish recess sweating, the shirt clinging to her back after the day's venture beneath the sun. ------ Short piece I wrote a while back inspired by my own childhood, trying to make sense of some of the memories that emerge as watercolor these days.
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