I was an 8-year-old girl with frizzy hair that had those small beaded dreads in the back from an expired trip to Cancun when the locals braided my hair.

It was also my braces phase and I had just been given bands to strap on my back brace to keep my jaw from moving back and forth. It was for alignment was what they said.

My mom bought me one of those really sick backpacks too. They rolled and had my embroidered monogram overlaying uneven Hawaiian print. The older kids used to kick it over when I would pull it to class but I didn't care. At that point in my life, no one could really stop me. Not even one of those training bra bozos with the high ponies that would fasten their necklaces to my arms and "leash" me to class.

I may not have been quote on quote princess material, but my personality sure did give me something that everyone around me was lacking. I had character.... And grandpa Bob said that's all a girl ever needed.

I remember sitting in the car on the way to Park Dale Elementary where all my elementary dreams came true. I was in the back and I was rather quiet that morning. I had barely touched my oatmeal and only looked myself in the mirror once. And that was unusual because I happened to be in love with the way my freckles popped out in the California summer. Some would say I i could have been tired. But over the course of the day, I knew it was so much more than that. It was a woman's intuition. Change was to come.

I went home that night and knew something was up. My mother sat me down after putting my bald baby brother to bed . She handed me a pink mochi from Trader Joe's which was code for "Lily you're being too weird to the other kids at recess" or "you're having another bald baby brother." In this case I would have been plenty fine with either. But unfortunately it was neither.

"You'll be moving to a different school, Lily. ️We spoke with everyone in your district but unfortunately there are boundary issues and we'll have to pull you out. You're starting on Monday."

It was Thursday. I mean, how could I complain... I had no friends as it were. But like CME on, I loved my desk. I loved my visits with the custodian that would give me now and laters for doing his lunch time work. That shit was great and I was offended that I would be taken away from it. "I'll let you buy lunch on Friday's" my mother said. "Sold" I said back.

So I started Monday. I walked into this new school with both eyes on the prize. Bought Friday lunches and impressing the new boys with my good eye contact and confident demeanor.

I walked into Mrs. Smith's class and sat down at a scratched up version of my old desk. I felt nostalgic but accepted that change is very good for a 10 year old. Keurorak said that.

A boy named Pablo tapped me on my shoulder. He had a mustache. I thought that was pretty cool. I also met another boy with tattoos on his legs. He said his dad was in jail for meth. I didn't know what that was but that was pretty cool too.

The teacher began her lesson and I trounced the class in Spanish. The class recited it back. I thought it was cute until she didn't stop. Until I realized that the whole class was in Spanglish and I couldn't add subtitles.

I was defeated. And Pablo could tell. He barely spoke English. But something about him helped me out of my translation rut.

My parents didn't understand what was up with me. I had no stories to tell during dinner which wasn't like me. They felt bad and I felt bad that they felt bad. I was determined to make this right and fit in. Even if it meant downloading Rosetta Stone and learning the language of love. Or close to it...

The next morning I trekked out to P.E. Once again, I could barely communicate with anyone. I had picked up a few words but I'm pretty sure they were inappropriate because the girls in the class laughed at me when I'd say them out loud. I was standing on the recess field waiting for my turn to kick the kickball, when I noticed a few kids meeting in the center of the field. They had cards in their hand and it looked like some sort of drug deal. I had seen those on cop shows late at night after my parents would fall asleep.

After school my mom took me to get some sympathy ice cream. I walked into the 7-11 and said hi to the guy that worked there. I was a regular. I grabbed my big pop and walked up to the cash register. One pack please. My mother gasped. "Yu-Gi-Oh." I said back. "Jesus, Lily what are you talking about?" The cashier passed me a pack. My mom rolled her eyes and paid the man.

She didn't ask any questions on the car ride home.

Three weeks went by. Picture this: a little blonde girl with pink Cowboy boots and a sweet disposition against Raul, the boy who was stabbed by someone once. In the middle of the quad, surrounded by kids. And I won. I became the Yu-Gi-Oh champion with the intention of breaking the language barrier and then boom. Little did I know I regained my confidence and got myself back in my feet. I dominated that school and Pablo couldn't have been more proud. Plus I found out those Spanish words I had been saying weren't that bad anyways. One had something to do with a cat and that didn't seem that inappropriate to me.

I tell this tale with one lesson and one lesson only.... You can do it. You can be put in a situation that may throw you off your horse... And sometimes all you gotta do is replace it with a donkey and start fresh. Plus here I am 12 years later with a hidden talent that will impress all the kids at comicon.