Chapter 8

And then there was me.

I made the new wife’s life with us a living hell. She made me wear dresses and, in retaliation, I tore and muddied them beyond repair. She curled and pinned my hair; I tore out the ribbons and let it flow wild down my back. She insisted I sit and eat daintily, “like a lady,” she said. The most hated phrase I had ever heard in my life. I sprawled on the floor, flounced on sofas, splayed my legs over the arms of chairs, and ate with both hands like a monkey in a zoo. I hadn’t asked to be born female, and as far as I was concerned, no one could make me conform to whatever silly notions were relegated to the weaker sex.

Weaker, eh? I could beat any boy my age in arm wrestling, tree climbing, jumping, running, fishing, lifting…anything they did, I could do better. My mother had never seen any problem with my tomboyish behavior. The new wife would have to learn the hard way that she wouldn’t change me.