Even though the spotlights hitting that stage were in a state of constant blinking, the auditorium of the elementary school looked like the bright lights of Broadway to me.
It was my first school play, and I was ready to provide a compelling performance of Miss Cotton Candy. It was our kindergarten class production of the alphabet, and I landed the much sought after role of the letter C.
I was decked out with a pink, poofy dress covered with pink spray-painted cotton balls. My Momma spent the whole week creating my costume, and I was determined to be remembered for my performance. I studied my five lines for weeks, complete with facial expressions. It was the role I was born to play.
There were a few other of my classmates who were just as excited as I was. My friend Emily was quite the convincing Anteater for the letter A. My buddy Chris looked impressive in his role of Pirate for the letter P. And who could forget Jeremy’s interpretation of a Zebra for the letter Z.
But then there was Ricky. He was either a Dragon or Dinosaur. I really can’t recall what his costume for the letter D was that night. Why? Because his bad attitude overshadowed every memory I had of him.
It was no secret that Ricky was the class bully. He would often chase me with bugs and even once stole my Little Debbie snack and grape juice during snack time. By the time the school play came around, I was disgusted with him, to be honest.
And he had the nerve to make light of this award-winning production. He made fun of us kids who were excited. He purposely tried to hide Chris’ plastic pirate sword. And he even ate all the fancy cookies at the pre-show reception.
So, there I was…Miss Cotton Candy next to him on the stage.
“What kind of costume are you wearing,” he asked. “You look like Pepto-Bismol.”
“You hush up,” I replied. “My Momma made it, and everybody else has told me I look cute.”
And then the curtain rose to the ceiling. All the lights were upon us. Our families were in the audience taking pictures and waving their hands around so we could see them. My Momma was in the front row with her camera.
The play started with the letter A, moving its way down for each of us to say our lines. I executed my lines perfectly. My Momma was so proud as she took pictures. I swear I thought I saw her wipe a tear away.
And then it was Ricky’s turn. He was too busy trying to make fun of everyone else that he forgot his lines. At that moment, I kind of felt sorry for him. I leaned over to whisper his lines to him.
“Shut up, Pepto,” he said, under his breath.
I could no longer see the fluffy pink of my dress. I saw red as my temper exploded. I can’t quite explain what happened next. But it happened.
I pounced onto Ricky like an animal. I had reached my boiling point. And it didn’t help that my fellow classmates were cheering me on in support. They were tired of his bullying too.
The final sight my Momma saw before the curtain dropped was the bottom of my lace underwear bottoms flashing the entire crowd as I released my frustrations upon my ultimate bully. Traces of cotton balls could still be seen floating in the air as the first grade attempted to save the night by beginning their performances early.
And as we drove home that night with half of my cotton balls missing and my bow clipped on the side of my once perfect hair, I sat in silence. I didn’t know if I was going to get in even more trouble. But I didn’t care. It was worth it. I was willing to take the punishment. I owed it to my classmates. We had reached our limit. And Ricky with his letter D only meant Destroy in my eyes.
I got cleaned up when we got home and made my way to bed. I was nervous as a timid cat, waiting on Momma to come tuck me in. She had not said much at supper, and my cotton ball costume sprawled on the floor was a reminder of my act.
Momma eased into my room, grabbed my covers and pulled them over my chest.
“You were the best Miss Cotton Candy ever,” she said, kissing my forehead. “No one will forget that. I can promise you that.”
Broadway never gave me a callback. But Ricky left me alone for the rest of the year. And to this day, I can’t help but smile when I see cotton candy for sale at the local county fair. It really was a role I guess I was born to play.
