When I tell people Astrid is my best friend, they often look at me funny. Maybe raise their eyebrows, or give me a crooked smile and a half-laugh.
But it’s true. She’s my best friend. Ever since that day in third grade when a group of fifth grade boys threw me down on the hard, hot concrete at recess and placed the soles of their shoes on my wrists. Not enough pain to make me scream, but enough to make me beg them to stop.
“Come see the freak!” they called out to the other kids. “She’s got TOES for thumbs! Freak show, right here!”
I don’t remember much after that, except that I tried to shove my thumbs under my palms, and the pressure on my wrists grew more intense. I could hear the laughter growing around me, different voices shouting “Freak!” Everything started to grow fuzzy as my eyes filled with tears.
There was a blur of red and pink as the boy who held me prisoner fell backwards with a grunt. The pressure left my wrists.
The red was from the hair, the pink was the dress. The person was Astrid. She must’ve came charging at the biggest kid with her fist held straight out, because he was now doubled over, clutching his gut and moaning.
With my hands no longer pinned to the ground, I sat up, wiping my tear-streaked face with the sleeves of my t-shirt. I watched in horror as the other boys charged Astrid immediately. The crowd had cheered when she hit the leader, and then they cheered again when the boys shoved her up against the brick wall of the school, just out of view from the recess monitor.
“The freak show continues!” one of the boys yelled to the crowd. “You’ll never believe it, but now you can see a girl with a BUTT for a chin!”
(Okay, yes. Astrid has an indent on her chin. It’s called a dimple, and it does not look anything like a butt.)
Still, laughter rang out around us. I pushed myself off the ground and shoved my way to the front of the crowd, expecting to see Astrid squirming under the grasp of them, but it was the opposite. She stood still. She stood tall.
Her lack of struggle shook the bullies. I could see them glancing at one another, their clutch on the crowd lessening. It was becoming quiet. That’s why we all heard Astrid when she said:
“YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT THIS BUTT CHIN CAN DO?”
She launched her head at the kid holding her against the wall. Her chin connected with his nose, which erupted with bright red blood. He stumbled back, screaming. The crowd lost its mind. In all the chaos, I ran to stand by Astrid so the recess monitor wouldn’t know which one of us delivered the blow.
Ever since that day, it has been Toe-Thumb Girl and Butt-Chin Girl against the world.
Paige Gardner 