To this day the events occurring on August 23rd, 1999 were inconclusive; they hovered in the air like a puppet on strings, simply a dead weight waiting to dance.

Blaine Anderson couldn’t divulge into that day, after all, age has lacerated his memories and fantasies have twisted with reality.  In fact, he probably couldn’t even recall his family’s childhood pet, which happened to be a tabby cat named Flouncy.  Throughout the years sunspots have eroded over the memories of his past; faces and names rushed by and lingering moments fought to burrow into the corners of his mind.

Blaine can recall one singular moment in time.

He was four and the gelatinous syrup that his mommy had scrunch into his billowing curls was starting to solidify on the back of his neck.  His argyle sweater vest was matted with dirt and the thick edges of his knee-high socks had begun to suffocate his legs, like snakes feasting on sausages.  Sweat had made his legs quiver, which is why when the invisible pirates had begun their charge, Blaine was unable to stop himself from tripping on a shoelace.  He had always preferred slip-ons.

Despite the hot weather, that made the atmosphere feel like a parched throat, the grass had been refreshingly wet and cool. And for a fleeting moment, Blaine considered submitting to the dirt’s freezing kiss.  Eventually he rose from the muddy floor, ready to return to the colorful realms of imagination.

However, upon looking up, all notions of attacking sea-fiends were dispelled.

Pamela Peters was…authoritative, to put it nicely.

She liked to have order, or more specifically impose it.  Being the runt of four teenagers, this may have been understandable, but Blaine wasn’t all that invested into details when he was young.  He used to stand by, watching Pammy (her parents endearment) stomp belligerently through the ranks of babies, waving the dingy rag of a stuffed animal like a baton, bawling stupid orders.  In short, she was, to Blaine’s innocent eyes, the exact personification of a raging bull. And he hated her, as much as any toddler could.

He hated her stupid long hair that swished through every tantrum, her infuriating squawk of a voice, her meaty hands that punched without hesitation; he hated the annoying gap between her teeth, and the way she bragged about being able to spell “pterodactyl”, he even despised the slurp of her daily lunchtime spaghetti…everything.  Especially, the incessant jabs at his singing.

Blaine loved to sing, but apparently  (at least to Pamela’s beady eyes), it was too girly. “You sound like a wimp!” she would screech, whilst pounding her lavender Mary Janes into his shin. She tended to express her disapproval with forceful shoves.

The final straw to Blaine and Pam’s dwindling feud came just one week prior.

Blaine had been swinging in the town’s public park, happy to feel the slight breeze flittering across his cheeks.  There was a heat wave currently canopying Westerville and any chance of relief was wonderful in Blaine’s puppy brown eyes.  He was happy.

His mother was just a few feet away, entranced by the pages of some book her wives’ club had been yakking about.  Frankly, Blaine couldn’t see the appeal, I mean there weren’t even pictures in it.  Nevertheless, he was content with the break from his mother’s paranoia with communal play sets.  “They are disgusting; just a large place for miscreant, penniless kids to smoke on”, she had once said disdainfully after Blaine had scraped his knee on the slide.  Luckily, her attention was otherwise hinder, leaving Blaine free reign to everything.

Soon he was bounding up from the swings and across to the jungle gym.  Leaping and sliding all over the multicolored fort.  That is until a sudden foot tripped his gleeful sprint.

With a soft thud he fell to the ground, momentarily dizzy, until a squawk came from above.

“Here, take it.” Pammy said, shoving a gaudy pink paper into his face.

“What is it?” He asked, completely taken aback by her presence.

“It’s a card stupid, read it!” She said, shaking the flimsy stuffed-rabbit in her hand.

“Fine, geez.” He replied, finally standing now.

The card was an annoyingly vibrant Pepto-Bismol hue. Clustered with shimmery heart stickers and reeking of some old-lady stench.

“Why does it smell like this?” He asked

“It’s perfume dummy, it’s supposed to smell good.” She said bossily

Ignoring her comment he looked back down to read the loopy crayon writing.

Deer Blane,

       I love you.

-Pammy P. <3

He read it and re-read it and re-read it, until finally the stinky fragrance conjured a headache.  He was, in a word, utterly confused.

“What?” He asked innocently.

His stomach was suddenly filled with squeamish butterflies and the world began to tilt.  The bowtie felt constrictive and the looming heat rose within seconds.  There Pammy stood; puffy dress and pig tails, looking surprisingly girly for the first time ever (in Blaine’s eyes.)

“I love you,” She said, with a broad smile.

“No.” He uttered.

“What do you mean no? Don’t you like me?” She asked, fragility gone in a blink, a burning anger beginning to boil behind her blue eyes.

“Of course not!” He said “Why would I like you!? All you do is push me around!”

“WELL YOU’RE JUST A BIG IDIOT BLAINE ANDERSON!” Pammy screamed, hurt and infuriated.

With one quick movement she stretched her chubby arm out and yanked his bowtie off.  In a second it was under her fat foot being pounded into the ground.

One stomp and Blaine could feel his heartbeat leap.

Another and his stomach squirmed.

Two more and his skin prickled with heat, fist clenching by his sides.

Once and for all, Pammy took one thunderous jump onto the polka-dot tie, effectively burying into the dirty ground.

With finality she turned her pig nose upwards and walked off.

He quickly knelt down and picked up the ruined bowtie, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.  “How could she?’ He thought. It was so unfair. He was never mean, or cruel and that…that monster hurt him!

With this thought a sudden tidal wave of livid anger slashed through his veins.

“I HATE HER!” he screamed to the trees. “THAT BULLY!  SHE JUST A MEAN, FAT, PIG!  I HATE HER, I HATE HER! I WISH SHE’D JUST DISSAPEAR!”

Rages running rampant, heat was drawing out like the last tremor of a violin.  Inching and inching till finally, it hit the boiling point.

Blaine’s eyes clouded with shadows, his pupils rolled back into his skull.  Pulses of blistering electricity shot through his fingers. Vibrations racked his form and with a belt “AHHHHH!” he collapsed onto the ground.  The card, long forgotten and crumpled, beneath his unconscious body.

And now he stood, captivated by the image of Pammy’s cream-colored arms floating atop the glass-like water.

Her puffy sleeves were no longer inflated, but concaved and soggy.

Her doll-like fingers loosely touched the waterlogged stuffed animals and her face remained focused on the bottom of the pool, eyes open and glossy.  Her skin was blue.

“Pammy?” He called, innocently; as if she would jump awake.

She didn’t respond, remaining asleep against the icy surface.

“P-Pammy?” He called again, wondering why tremors were raking his voice.

Surely she was just fooling him, just playing a prank for cruelty.  Alas, the girl was frozen, suspended above the plastic surface of her kiddy-pool.  Beside her the garden hose was flowing steadily, a living stream making the plastic bathtub overflow.

Blaine would later be found, sitting perfectly still next to the motionless corpse of Pamela Ann Peters.  The Police would pull him away, despite protest, and his mother would envelope him in a too-tight hug.  The girl’s mother would gasp and sob out “why?” as her father held her upright, while trying to keep himself from falling into the same oblivion that claimed his princess.  Neighbors upon Neighbors would flock to the ambulance’s flashing lights, shock and awe painting their faces.  The other kids, naïve and lost by all the commotion, would beg to jump into the pool.  Until finally their designated caregiver would wisp them away from the scene, shaking their head in dismay.

And all the while, Pammy lay silent and still.  People buzzed like bees and Blaine watch numbly. Only aware that somewhere in the depths of his heart, beneath miles of cells, and tissue was a malicious snickering, happy to see her lifeless stare.